My theme for 2009 was Free Fall. And it certainly proved to be true. I’ve learned more about letting go this year than I could have ever imagined. It was a tangled year, full of twists and turns and steep drops. This year, I’ve been able to let go more than ever of the things that once gripped me.
My life became cluttered with the sorting of medical paperwork for more than one family member. I’ve learned more than I care to about the medical mess this country has gotten itself into. And I’ve learned a little about home insurance in an eleven-month journey to finally enjoying my new front porch, provided by last winter’s snows too heavy for the old porch to support. 2009 has been full of the challenges of navigating rules, providing documentation, and finding people who are willing to do what they commit to.
I’m looking forward to the end of my 2009 “Free Fall” as the paperwork flutters behind me. This final letting go will be monumental for me. I can no longer see the importance of things I’ve been taught must be held with great reverence. An early January bonfire ought to clean up the last of the mess. And that is the Free Fall blessing of 2009.
Now, I’m looking at my 2010 theme and feeling like it’s time to “Get Lost!”
I’m ready to be a pioneer, an adventurer, stumbling in to new areas to survey broadly and examine minutely. I want to investigate new waters, explore new wilderness, discover what others may have long ago left behind and, when necessary, make my own crude maps as a way to encourage myself to go deeper.
I will not be a seeker, searcher or one on a quest. I’m not interested in any theme that might carry deep meaning or be a cause in any way. There will be no exploration plan or search for knowledge.
Beating about, kicking around, casting about, putting out feelers, and finding myself up a creek are more my style. All I’m looking for are a few effortless escapades and the simplicity in being lost.
“Explorers have to be ready to die lost.” ~Russell Hoban
50 degree temperatures feel oh so much different in March than they did in September. It’s the same temperature, just a different month, a different angle, and therefore a different perspective. 
Right now, with the sun shining like I have not seen it shine in over four months, I’m more alive. The affect feels razor sharp after dreary dark and overcast snowy days for months. Oh, we have had some sun on occasion. It’s just that now, with spring, our sunshine comes with colors. Don’t ask me to explain in any kind of a scientific way. I’m sure there is one. But it’s not until late February or early March that I see those colors in each day’s light. Sunshine in December and January can, on occasion, be bright, but it’s never colorful. 
There’s nothing to do really but hang on for the ride. I’ll soon be into a new six-month routine. And then, just when I think I’ve got it down, fall will sneak up behind me I’ll be seeing things differently all over again. 
The gifts of February in Northern Michigan come in tiny, tiny packages: a momentary sight of a deer before she heads back down to the creek where the snow is less deep and the temperatures are just a little warmer; a few 
Happy Thanksgiving All
These days, there is not much space outside of the time I spend with my mother. So I have found when I do not hand over my writing to others, what I am compelled to write about becomes an extension of my conversations and reflections with Mom. The two of us are spending a lot of time looking back. That’s where she’s most comfortable. The farther back we go, the better her memory. Ask her about an event or person in her childhood and you’ll get minute details. Ask her what she had for lunch the minute she finished the last morsel, and you’ll get a shrug.