As the year draws to a close, I find myself slightly optimistic, but only in the sense that perhaps some of the things that happened this year will not recur next year, that lessons will be learned, dramatic changes will occur, and I will become hopeful again. It’s been a long season of lament and where hope once bubbled abundantly through my being, now I find it’s merely a single flickering candle, a flame that will sometimes twist and nearly fade from view or grow brighter, but doesn’t have the ability to shine enough light to show that there is a way, a path, a direction to be taken.
It’s been a season where beloved people and much wanted babies died, where complications from minor surgery turned grave. A season where relationships sometimes bloomed, but also fractured, possibly beyond repair, or changed in a way that’s no longer comfortable or healthy. Sometimes I’ve had to learn that I believed a relationship existed only to find that in truth it existed only in my head.
Social media feeds kept me informed about all manner of politics, of protesting against injustice, scripture quotes, the climate crisis, racism, sexism, violence and abuse, and also the occasional rare meme or tweet that was funny but not at the expense of a fellow human being.
This year I moved to a new apartment, which meant the final gasping breaths of a dream dying, acceptance that maybe it’s just not possible to live in community, even if it’s with people I love and with whom I share similar values. Though I was an active participant in all that occurred I still sometimes wonder what exactly happened, why things turned out the way they did, and what could have been done differently.
As I walked around the parking lot before and after Christmas, I saw dumpsters and recycle bins filled with the aftermath of excessive consumption, shiny new things purchased by parents and grandparents, spouses and children, daughters and sons, things that are supposed to bring happiness and a feeling of good cheer during this holiday season. This seemed rather incongruous as voices of parents yelling and children crying echoed in the hallway outside of my apartment. Was it necessary to buy all the plastic toys that will be on this planet forever? Will we ever learn that we can’t continue to consume at this rate without causing our own extinction? What sort of world will our grandchildren grow up in? Will they have fresh air, clean water, food to eat? Will they suffer from illnesses and have a shorter life expectancy than their parents and grandparents?
The one saving grace in this season has been the forest that sits behind my apartment building. As I walk along the path, leaves crunching under my boots, I listen for the birds, watch the squirrels and chipmunks running up and down the trees, watch the deer, who seem as interested in me as I am in them. I feel at peace, refreshed, at home. It’s hard to describe the beauty and the joy I feel when I’m there and I’m sure Thoreau or others have said it much more eloquently than I could hope to. And yet this beauty is also laced with sadness – a developer owns the land and the city has approved the building of twenty plus new homes that will wipe out the majority of the forest. Staying here when that happens is something I’m afraid I won’t be able to bear and I feel intense pressure to figure out the next step.
Will next year be better? It seems unlikely given what I know at the moment. Many of the problems that plague our country and humankind in general are not easily solved and it’s hard to be patient when change is so painfully slow, and quite frankly, when people refuse to acknowledge what is wrong, who is being harmed, and the role that each of us plays in it. As I mentioned earlier, I’m not clear on the path or direction I need to take, but I’m working on figuring it out.
And so, there is that glimmer of hope and I cling to that because without hope, there can be no revolution. And we are desperately in need of a revolution. As the song from Counting Crows goes, “It’s been a Long December but there’s reason to believe that maybe this year will be better than the last.” Time will tell, eh?