Who can resist the metaphor of a new year?
Two colourful piles of books on a warm wood table top. Taken at our old studio by Shannon Litt.
Rest your eyes! You can listen to this newsletter instead of reading it.
Even though I won’t send it right away, I’m writing you this early on January 1st, while the whole world — or so it seems — is still sleeping.
Earlier this morning, there was a fresh slick of ice on the sidewalks, making my dog walk slow and hesitant. One steady step and then another, eyes on the road. Wind on my face. Leash warm in my hand.
Who can resist the metaphor of a new year?
It’s a convention, of course; very little is actually starting over today. But it’s an opportunity to look out at the horizon with new eyes, and believe — or remember — that change is possible.
I used to be so annoyed by New Years, just another call to socialize after all the social pressure of the holidays. But as I get older, and this experiment of being human feels more and more tenuous, I’m in love with any opportunity to pause and say, “Look at us. We are making it through.”
Last night, my partner Ian and I ended 2023 by watching Fantastic Mr. Fox, making waffles, and then walking around the neighborhood in a dusting of wispy snow.
I couldn’t believe how touched I felt to see all those warm-lit windows full of the murmur of gatherings, flashes of friendship, flickers of muted conversation. I loved the kid blowing his kazoo out his window at midnight, the family who stood on their porch to count down together under the wild winter sky.
And so, a page turns.
Tomorrow, the team will be back at their desks. Lesley will edit these words and send them to you. Soon, workshops will start and my inbox will fill up with new questions and ideas.
And here we are, us and you, in this experiment in being human. Feeling the cold wind this world blows at us, some more than others. Finding each other. Showing up. Walking forward as best we can, steady step by steady step.
We are still collecting gift cards for families arriving from Gaza
Our gift card drive is going great, nearly $7,000 raised so far. If you’d like to help 11 families fleeing to Toronto from Gaza get settled, here’s everything you need to know.
I’m grateful to be here with you.
In her poem Yes! No! Mary Oliver writes: “Imagination is better than a sharp instrument.”
Let’s start the year with our imaginations, and the dedication, community and language we need to put them out into this world, where they belong.
In it with you,
