Happy New Year! My word for 2018 is…

I’m exploring the contours of Treasure Island in my hiking boots. With each step, I leave behind another set of footprints. I’m not the only visitor on this last weekend in December: Joggers, beachcombers, surfers, and seabirds….side-by-side and single-file, we write our stories into the sand.

But.

And.

The waves advance and retreat. Flotsam and jetsam, shell fragments and seaweed… everything gets swept away by the currents. Even the deepest footprints are eventually erased by nature’s Etch-a-Sketch.

At this time last year, for instance I created from my hopes and dreams a sand painting, very similar to this one. A spark of inspiration, not a resolution, inspired by Maya Angelou’s Still I Rise.

RISE—my 2017 Word of the Year—was all about stretching myself in ways I hadn’t yet imagined. What did it mean, in the abstract? Reaching for my highest potential, and lifting my candle against the dark. How did it play out in reality? Long story made short, it’s been a baffling-enlightening-exhausting-exhilarating adventure. Life, with all its ebbs and flows…and lots more wheeeeee! than whoa.

And here I am again, exploring my favorite beach, as yet another year give way to the gravitational pull of time.

2018 lies just ahead: a clean slate on which to write the next chapters of my life. I’ll start tonight by laying claim to my new Word of the Year. There were lots of strong contenders, but when SING popped into my head, my heart beat a little faster. I’ve learned by now to heed those inner stirrings.

I love a good metaphor, don’t you? SING gives rise to lots of interpretations–aside from the obvious, which is very much a work in progress. Speaking of which, oh my goodness! I forgot to mention that I sang onstage with the world-famous Harlem Gospel Choir, at B.B. King’s? Yes, that’s me, making a joyful noise at Sunday Gospel Brunch! (More about that NYC adventure soon, but meantime…Can I hear an amen chorus?)

Photo credit: Donna Sullivan

SING. The word itself holds deep-seated significance for me. I can’t lie: It makes my stomach churn just a little, to think about the challenges it represents. But oh, the rewards…!

I’ll draw this year from the wellspring of my innermost reserves, remembering always these encouraging words: “Do everything as far as you can for love and you will see what you are capable of. One can make more progress this way in a year, than in ten by the way of fear.” That St. Mary Euphrasia was a wise woman, don’t you think? I’ll bet she sang solos in her church choir.

Long , deep breaths, Melodye! Plant both feet on solid ground, and lift your voice to the heavens.

This is the year that I sing to my heart’s content, speak with courage, and tell my story true. I can’t yet imagine where all of this might lead me, but I’m already excited about the possibilities!

#ThankfulThursday: Winter Solstice and the Promise of Light

Happy Winter Solstice!

The sun sets early on these waning days of December. Shorter days, longer nights…winter has officially arrived. We greet it with open arms, even though we have reason to suspect it’ll overstay its welcome.

Winter calls upon our innermost reserves: We bundle up, hibernate, illuminate our homes with artificial light, and dream about spring. Joy to the world, the sun returns!

On this shortest day of the year, I’m reminded of a scene from Northern Exposure. In this snippet from his radio broadcast, philosopher king Chris Stevens is waxing poetic about the power of hope, and the ultimate triumph of light over dark.

Goethe’s final words: ‘More light.’ Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that’s been our unifying cry: ‘More light.’ Sunlight, torchlight, candlelight, neon, incandescent, light to banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier’s Field, little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we’re supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles, light is metaphor. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet. Rage, rage against the dying of the light! Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom, lead thou me on. The night is dark and I am far from home, lead thou me on. Arise, shine, for thy light has come. Light is knowledge, light is life, light is light.” ~ “Chris in the Morning,” on the TV series Northern Exposure.