It’s Christmas again, and a brand New Year peeps at us from just around the corner. Instead of jacaranda, our morning walks are now across pathways strewn with yellow flame.
Last Christmas was a season of horror. Lucy lost part of her beautiful tail in an act of sickening callousness. A travesty, a defilement of my Lucy’s purity, heralding cosmic wailings that nobody may ever be able to hear, but myself and a very few whose ears are tuned to the whispers of realms beyond human-centricity. ‘Twas a season of wading through fetid pools overflowing with flotsam and jetsam of social plastic, brittle fondnesses, meaningless verbage (verbal garbage), locked inside the iron-fisted grip of grandiose benevolence. All I remember of last Christmas was dust, construction, toxic fumes, paint, cardboard boxes, overwhelming frustration (at not being able to dive into pressing and important work), slaving in kitchen dispensing gratitude, being excluded from boring conversations yet locked inside the vortex of meaningless babble, and falling asleep on my plate of sad ham while trying hard to feign perkiness.
Then, as if the cosmos hadn’t had enough of Artaudian-Wagnarian fun and games with me, 2016 kicked off with a shocking betrayal of trust: an eviction notice couched in an emotionally manipulative tapestry of sickly sweet illogical excuses, just a few weeks before I was due to submit my PhD dissertation. The rest of the year saw Lucy and me tumbling into one churning ordeal after another.
A few days ago, I was telling my sister about how 2016 was my Annus Horribilis, when she offered me another perspective, one which I now see as the more cogent focus of the Grand Libretto.
In 2016, amidst the fury and terror, I submitted my PhD dissertation – the culmination of four years of hard work, wonderful awakenings, and thrilling discoveries. My PhD was conferred without need for rewrites – a rare privilege. I then became the sole recipient of the 2016 Dean’s Award for Postgraduate Research Excellence – an honour I never dreamt of, let alone actually receiving it in such circumstances. Lucy and I survived 2016 with the help of loyal friends, true friends who did not offer mere words of sugary undertakings but steadfastly held us up through rough rumblings and tumblings. We made an amazing journey across the skies in the most remarkable manner. And we are together again. Inside Clement Space. We are well-loved. We are safe.
My sister was right: instead of the Annus Horribilis that I had previously pronounced, 2016 was actually an amazing year. A year of truth and revelation. A year of strength and grit. A year of purging the inutile. A year of retaining and embracing the worthy. A year of grace, and of finding gems inside swirling mire.
We look forward to our path ahead with renewed confidence in the ‘dogliness’ of Being!
Have a Blessed Holiday Season and Warm Wishes for an Amazing New Year!