“I believe that the community – in the fullest sense: a place and all its creatures – is the smallest unit of health and that to speak of the health of an isolated individual is a contradiction in terms.” – Wendell Berry
New Year’s Eve 2023, Sunday, Noon, Chilkat River beach. Flowing tide, cloudy, light breeze, 32 degrees.
Good news. I tested negative for Covid this morning and am back in the land of the living and very happy about. It’s amazing how one less line on the test strip can make such a difference.
I couldn’t wait to go to church, walk with Beth, wash the sheets, air the pillows, go to grocery store, take Sarah’s yoga class. Soak the black-eyed peas for tomorrow. I didn’t see all the people who walked before we did, but the footprints made me feel I was with them. We are not alone in our appreciation of the beach on the last day of the year. A pretty nice day at that.
In church the sermon was about why we go to church—to be together—to see each other, to encourage the best in each other is as much of it as anything. We all learned during the bad Covid years that we may attend services on Zoom, but that it wasn’t church. I did yoga on Zoom too, never missed a Sunday for a year. It was better than not “going” but it wasn’t actually being anywhere with anyone. I was on the floor upstairs by myself. As my daughter said today, exercising together is good medicine.
Amen.
And so is walking with friends. (Of course a quiet walk is therapeutic, good for me even—but meeting a friend for a walk? That’s a party. )
I am over New Year’s resolutions. I don’t have time to fail or worry about keeping them. I like intentions though.
I intend to be happy and busy. For me, they are linked. How? In the easy ways: in community. In church and yoga and swimming in a public pool, singing in a choir, umping Little League, getting to know my neighbors better in Haines (yes, there are people here whose name I do not know…) and in Tenakee where I plan to spend more time at my cabin. (Talk about community: the bath is even public.) I’m making a new clothesline too. Hanging my laundry out for all to see while saving the planet by using the dryer less is good for the spirit too.
You are also part of my community intention. Sharing my days with you gives them more meaning and structure. Thank you.
One more thing: I never understood “Auld Lang Syne”. I thought it was odd to sing a song about forgetting old acquaintances at the end of each year. I mean, shouldn’t we remember them? My thoughts are all mixed up with the living and dead—all those voices of yesterday shape the way I respond to today, and tomorrow—isn’t that true for you, too? The older I get, the more I use the net that allows negative thoughts to escape but catches and keeps the positive ones. The kind ones. The helpful ones. What are we here for, if not to do a little good, in whatever ways we are able, for the people- the communities- we live with?
Today I learned that “Auld Lang Syne” means Days Long Ago and that “should old acquaintance be forgot,” is not a directive but a question. Better still, the answer is no— we won’t forget , we will drink a cup of kindness (kindness!) for days long ago, for old friends and old acquaintances who made our lives richer— but also for how ever many days, years- and loves- are yet to come. Think of all the people singing it tonight. If even half of us means it, the future is bright.
