I confess I have never been much of an aficionado of celebrating the New Year by drinking and raising hell... or even bothering with it at all. Definitely, I never make any New Year's resolutions, not since I was about twelve years old, when I discovered they were just another guise to make me feel guilty. On the other hand, I have heard that you will spend your year in the manner you start it; therefore, in recent years, I've been inclined to start my year with a good night's sleep. However, last year I decided to make a change and start the year dancing, but I don't know if it was worth the trouble. I had a hard time finding anyone to join me in fulfilling that desire. Anyway I did dance a lot during the year, so I guess it was a good thing in the end.

So this New Year's when a long time friend phones to invite me to one of those black tie charity dinner dances, I go for it without a second thought. I figure it's about time I get out of my little woodsy roost. No matter how far one retreats into solitude, I think there is a little fear that we might be missing out on some happening in the world. I was surprised when I found out that Thoreau walked to Concord nearly every day to have dinner with his family or the Emerson's. So I am look forward to enjoying a social reality too.

But I do have one request: I want to wake up the first day of the year in the country in my own bed. I'm not really superstitious, but somehow I feel it is a symbol of my declaration of having a life outside the city. Dear Gus is willing to humor me by driving the one and one-half hours to the woods, while I am nodding off. However, when we reach my home, I get a second wind and build a warm fire to enjoy before we drop into bed.

Sadly, New Year's day shows up in long gray robes, dispersing scattered showers over the countryside. I express my disappointment to Gus, since he cannot enjoy the woods and meadows. Nature is so bountiful here, but somehow it's hard to experience its beauty when it is shrouded in rain. Fortunately, Gus is not daunted. Decked in plastic gear, he does manage to catch a couple of fish, while I am cooking breakfast. I would have loved for him to stay longer to share this natural reality, but he has to work tomorrow.

Later in the day, when I am alone, I sit down to send an e-mail message to all of my friends. I have some really special friends who I feel very honored to have in my life. Here's my message to them:

It is impossible to express in words the thanksgiving in my heart for having such lovely loving friends in my life. Please know that I hold you in my heart with the brightest and lightest love. You have all been such a support to me in small ways and big ways—I honor you all as a special part of me and my life.

I wish you success in fulfilling all of your dreams this year. Not just material ones, but the real ones, like knowing the love that is the foundation of our being.
Let's face it—All we really want is to love and be loved. And I do love you.

The following morning when I awaken to more gray fog, I realize that I am starting my day way off schedule. . . and the truth is I don't even feel like starting it at all. The lack of sleep on New Year's Eve is slowing me down. I am finally jarred into reality by the ringing of the telephone. Gusagi is calling to wish me a Happy New Year. He is a fellow writer, so we share our thoughts and goals for the year.

I confess that I don't seem to have a clear path laid out for this year. I had planned a trip to India in February, but I have had to postpone it because my India manuscript is being reviewed by a publisher. In reality, it doesn't matter when I go to India, even if I end up there in the hottest month. After all, I was acclimated to the Arizona heat. I should survive.

Not only have I surrendered timing on India, but on everything else too. I just feel like relaxing and having a spontaneous year. Even though I sometimes have a general dream to work toward, I have never concerned myself much with plans for the future. I have reason to believe that I will survive, so I never feel inclined to put any energy on building security for the future.

Instantly, as the thought, I will let the future be whatever it is—I accept, crosses my mind, I am aware of a cozy warm feeling in my chest. Smiling, I become aware of a tune swelling in my heart. If there's a song in my heart, it hardly matters where I am—Houston city, national forest, India chaos.

So today I accept gray; gray days aren't necessarily bad. I remember we always welcomed a “shady” day in Arizona. Unfortunately, here gray is accompanied by rain and cold. Occasionally, there's another kind of gray day: warm dry calm. Actually, I look forward to these silent pauses between sun and rain. Rainy days impel me to be indoors, writing and editing. Sunshine pushes me to laugh and play in the meadow. But this shade gives me an atmosphere I can wrap about myself, a soft entrance into Me. A day I can touch eternity. Do you remember that wonderful little verse by William Blake—

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And heaven in a wild flower;
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.