And now. . . the Holiday Hangover. The adrenaline dump is done. The Christmas decorations must come down. I turned off the holiday lights for the last time last night. Some of you were up early this morning, out for a New Year's hike or run. Some of you slept in and are now in your housecoats and slippers sipping coffee or tea and thinking about food. Stripped of decorations, the landscape is stark and wintry. The New Year struggles to take form, the baby born, the spectre of the unknown.
All those holiday chores we put off now weigh upon our minds.
"On Monday, I must. . . ."
One day this week, I will journey to the silent marshlands on the coast, the National Wildlife Refuge or Preserve. . . whatever it is called. . . and shelter from the wind and cold in quiet meditation.
There is no use making resolutions. We have no idea with what we might be faced. We can only prepare to walk gracefully through the fire.
"God grant me grace."
I'm glad I got the jump on Dry January. I may regret popping the cork on the champagne last night, but I'm not beating myself up over it.
Too much.
I have ideas on how to spend the day. Part of it will be making a fifteen bean soup with ham and vegetables for "Good Luck." Also, for the fiber. I read yesterday in WaPo that protein is "out" and fiber is "in." They predicted other trends, too, for the trendy.
Otherwise, things will be quiet, I hope. We'll just take things day by day.
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