A new year is about to begin. Amidst the noise of fireworks, the celebrations of what’s to come, the interminable chattering of certain classes; the usual endless list of pundits prognosticating this & that, often missing the large canvass of our resolve + the classic procrastinating resolutions; the calendar of the past 12 months reveals interesting stories about the state I/we are in.
For example, we remember long conversations with friends and foes about the politics of change; our spirited the imagination for a moment suspended with pillars of hope. We review completed projects, others pending funding, or at least, some level of enthusiasm to make it happen.
The calendar speaks of funerals attended; ongoing dialogues with loved ones about unfulfilled expectations – of course, of reflective moments of solitude; some unfinished business. When I double check my recent itinerary I see gaps, holes, empty spaces, double entendres, convivial closures, missed opportunities and, disturbingly, seductive entrapments lingering in the shadows, waiting for a resolution; any.
Remember that biting commentary by your supervisor at work? Or the paternalistic look from some of your co-workers for wearing the wrong clothing’ brands? Who’s that sad person for crying out loud? And what about the pompous remark by your oversized boss about the need to synergize, maximize profitability? – Do as I tell you and your Rolex is coming by the next quarter!
Indeed. One can also remember the sweet scent of love passing through and being unable to grasp it; too busy reading the last memo from head office, or trying to make sense of a lengthy report that give you only number, frozen statistics, but no whys? Did you see her look? Noticed her body, full of sensuous contours? The delicate movement of her hands? What about those big & wide Mediterranean dark eyes suggesting a night of unremitting passion and mystery? Yes, I said, who’s that Goddess descending upon us with such charm?
The tragic death of a dear friend flashes by; he wanted to disappear, blend in – he killed himself instead. The blessed internet almanac tells us of bloody war, earthquakes, famine, and drought, dead soldiers in an untamed land; the rightfully departed, a planet burning; way too many people hurting. The year also tells a story about what’s missing in one’s life, what wasn’t accomplished; ideas that went nowhere; the diminishing stamina of one’s aging, surgical wards, litigations, pending divorces, and negotiations concluded painless, even laughingly.
Light shines once more over pointless troubling existential dilemmas; does God actually listen at all? We comment on the many illuminating acts of kindness, the generosity of an estranger; the successful food drive; the failings of some manufactured “celebrity.” Someone said that the New Year offers the possibility of surprise; to some, of healing & closure, of listening and following their hearts. For others, the New Year becomes a prophecy foretold – no point in trying anything original. A successful friend of mine suggests we should commit ourselves to using our brains more frequently; become less gullible! She yells from the corner. I bow in agreement.
While the vuvuzelas offer a moment of respite and strange fascination, others will try to recast the past in a futile exercise to recapture a wondrous time long gone. Many yearn for something anew, refreshingly moving, pedestrian, even. I am one of them. Tomorrow I’ll be looking for something utterly engaging. A new compass. At its core, it must be authentic, less fearful – aiming at removing the numbness that surrounds me. Truth be told; nothing else would do.
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© Leo Campos Aldunez
Edmonton, AB (Canada)
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