December 31, 2004
Last days of disco
A few days spent in the company of friends at a chalet down in the countryside, away from day-to-day things, with time for jokes, chatter, games, or peaceful reading next to the crackle of the fireplace.
The light is strange at the chalet. It steals in too-bright bursts through the windows, as if seeking solace from the overwhelming glare of the snow outside. The place is crowded with old wooden furnishings, some deeply beautiful, others mere fascinating curiosities. There is a heavy gravity here that the light has difficulty to penetrate — perhaps due to the depth of the mahogany, the severity of the oak. Hence, the rooms here seep a kind of stillness; it is as if the history that these old things carry with them slows the flow of time, insinuating a sense of calm, peace, and rest that blankets over you the moment you walk in through the door.
The last day of a calendar year always makes me wonder about the journey of the year just past. In the last few days, I caught myself continually reflecting, thinking of old friends, friends with whom I haven't been keeping in touch as much as I probably should have or would have like to have. If you've ever spent any amount of time with me, be assured that you have been in my thoughts these days.
It has been a tiring year, a wearying journey that I have yet to completely recover from. Shifting from one side of the world to another isn't a small deal, and constantly living in temporary spaces had taken their toll. I continually struggle with the knowledge that I need rest, alongside the impatience to push forward with projects and things I'd like to get done, things I'd like to do better. Even in weariness, my lust for life gets the better of me.
Strangely, it was raining today. Pebble has been sleeping a lot lately, I guess she needs rest too. A couple of parties lined up for the night, and tomorrow is yet another day.
Wherever you are, whatever you've got in sight for the next 365.25 days, have a happy new year!
