Sunday, November 07, 2010

Always a Happy Ending

We need a little Christmas.  Right this very minute.  We need a little Christmas, now.

Here it is, November 7th, and although the stores have all their decorations up, the music barrage hasn't started yet, and best of all, the usual debates about the "war on Christmas" or lack thereof have yet to begin.

And it won't start here, either.

I'm just here to say that I'm looking forward to the all-too-familiar music, a sprinkling of snow, and the expectant atmosphere that accompanies December.  The anticipation has much to do with the end of the year.

In my journal, I provide a summing-up spot for each week (which for me ends on Fridays), and each month.  Around the 25th of every month, like clockwork, I jot something like "Ah, the end of the month approaches once again, and as always, I'm glad."  For most of my life, New Year's Day has been my favorite holiday.

Why am I always so glad to move on, turn the page, and bid farewell to the past?  I haven't yet gotten to the point where I look ahead to the future and see nothing but failure, but the feeling of defeat does tend to hit about halfway through the week, month, and year.  All of that is due to age and circumstance, and possibly brain chemistry as well.  I'm gradually turning into a pessimist.  One of those people who walk around sighing "What's the use?"  I get tired at the midpoint, thinking "Yeah, yeah, whatever, same-old, same-old, let's see if the new [day/week/month/year] brings any good surprises."  I don't know what it is I'm expecting, since it's finally gotten through to me that "good stuff" won't just come along and jump into my lap.  "If it is to be, it is up to me," as the saying goes.  But if I'm the engine that drives my life, I'm no longer saying "I think I can, I think I can."  Those hills are looking steeper and steeper as time goes by.

A lot of people I know looked forward to the beginning of this year with particular relish -- the last decade has sucked so very spectacularly.  The church I attend had a ceremony in which we wrote down regrets and resolutions.  The regrets were consigned to a burn-barrel out behind the church.  

There's no question that things "felt" better this year -- we all encouraged one another and the renewed vigor got most of us through the little dips and dings.

A lot of groundwork was laid this year and there's still a lot more energy and determination in the air than there was last fall.  The moments of soaring optimism tend to come in spurts nowadays.  I watch for them with the hope of a child scanning the skies for a shooting star.

1 comment:

Barbara Bruederlin said...

I find it so easy to be simultaneously always anticipating the future, while wondering why everything always feels the same. It's usually always Groundhog Day in my head.