It's only the 3rd. The year is so tender. Yet here we are, breaking it in. Everything gearing up, full steam ahead. They roll out a new year, then give us only two days to prepare ourselves. On the third day, we rise up and head straight into it, ready or not. I like the time after Christmas and before New Year's, when it feels like we are floating free, inbetween years. The current year, dwindled down to a few remaining days, doesn't carry much weight anymore. The checks you write probably won't be cashed that year. The calendar which hung with such relevance and importance in your kitchen is now a has-been, ready for the recycling pile. Yet the new year hasn't arrived yet. So there you are, suspended in a sort of non-time, a state of timeless liberty.
Well, it takes a few days, after a new year has been sprung from its packing, to accept it, and adopt it. It takes a body some getting used to, returning to a time-governed state. And re-joining the relentless march of time, a billion feet stepping in rhythm, a billion calendar pages turning, takes a certain willingness, that does not come in just two days. No, I need a whole week to ease myself in. I need a week to watch the old year falling away, like a space capsule jettisoned to earth, and to incorporate a new year into my reality. But we are given two measly days, and on January 3rd, we must resign ourselves to plotting our life, our moments, in terms of this newly minted year. We must remember to use the new year when writing dates, and before the new year has had time to mature and ripen, we open our calendars and begin filling them up immediately.
The new year is like a train, charging through town, everybody running to catch it. And it is this collective urge to not be left behind, that surely was the reason I awoke this morning, determined to post something to my blog, before the new year got away from me.