It’s almost the end of January 2021, and barely stepping into another year comes an urgency to accomplish and resolve. This always ponders the questions:  how, why, when, and where.

No matter the terms of Covid-19, winter slows us down. The days are short, the nights are long, and the cold colors dreams out of reach.

The start of the year has moved us away from the end of the holidays (such as they were) and overly zealous politics. Hope flowed with the uncorked New Year Eve’s champagne. Now the pace of life grinds around like a wheel into a direction we hope will be brighter than the previous year.

I know writers who’ve sheltered and isolated over the past year, and they’ve written probably some of their best work. I don’t envy them. I admire their willpower and the end results. Finding an inner peace to write requires a different set of tools, when the chaotic world operates on a whole new level, bringing unlikely enemies.

As I communicate with my writer friends, our community of pen-to-pen offers a support lifeline whatever the future brings. We cherish our talents, believing out of this round world—which has temporally been flattened—our words and our stories will go on and on. From what I can tell, it still remains important:  a routine to move within the external walls beyond our cocoon.

I will share with those who follow me (who aren’t necessarily writers), but as we all are:  keepers of one’s own day, wanting to make it better~~~

I’ve drawn on these passions. Read poetry: it requires that we slow down and be silent, be still. Poetry is made by men and women in modes of contemplation, and it can teach us to do the same, because reading it requires attention and time. Reading poetry aloud cultivates rhythm, which I’m experimenting in writing my future stories.  An optimum morning routine:  no social media, emails, or telephone. It requires a meal, a bit of music, exercise, and meditation.  Walk aimlessly:  a walk without a goal or timeframe.

 Happy New Year

We’re all familiar with this post-holidays pause of life, and I think for most of us it feels like a let-down. The parties have come and gone, the excitement of New Year’s resolutions has passed, and in its place is the boring task of accomplishing what we’ve said we want to accomplish. Combine that annual malaise with the intensified solitude and boredom of pandemic restrictions, and we find ourselves feeling more alone, and more disappointed about being alone, than ever.