“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.”
-Zora Neale Hurston
As I started to prepare for this new year, looking forward to what will or might be, while also looking back on the past year, my favorite Zora Neale Hurston quote came to mind. Last year was most definitely a year that asked questions. I started the year unsure of how to feel about my changing role as a mom as my kids get older. I was unsure of how to change my role as a human as my mom duties are slowly diminishing and the time I have to pursue “me” things is increasing. And I was unsure of how to let go of the identity I had carried for 13 years as a brain tumor survivor.
Perhaps now is the time when I should mention that patience is not my strong suit. I often joke that I have subconsciously chosen all my hobbies in the hopes that they will teach me the virtue of patience. But so far, reading, running, weightlifting, gardening and quilting haven’t made a dent in my dedication to impatience.
I didn’t like living a year full of questions last year. I wanted answers on how to feel better, on what I was supposed to be doing with my life, on how to live when you’re no longer being actively observed for a brain tumor (one would think this would be easy . . . but I found it oddly profoundly difficult).
When my impatience with running caught up to me (too much volume too quickly = calf tear), I was relegated to long walks this summer. These walks almost always took place while the kids were still asleep, as the sun was rising, and the streets were quiet. The quiet and the solitude afforded me time to think, and to listen to some very wise women through a number of audio books. As I thought, and contemplated, and kept walking, I started to have some glimmers of ideas as to what this next chapter of my life could be.
Of course, like all summers, it ended too quickly. And all too soon my walks were replaced with early morning skating practices and school drop offs and the general business that is fall with two school-aged children. And it wasn’t until things slowed down during the holidays that I was able to start preparing for the new year and to revisit some of the thoughts and ideas I had been cultivating during my summer walk.
I love to have a word of the year, a word that I can use to help guide me as I work through all the things I want to accomplish in the coming year. I also love to make an annual list of “things” (goals, projects, things to explore) like Gretchen Rubin does. As my list took shape, I realized that I was subconsciously setting myself up for a year of answers. The goals and projects and things I want to explore this year are all things designed to either bring me back to what I love (getting into the gym, reading, writing and cooking), or to test out things I think I might like (new projects).
All of which brought me to my word for this year:
Glimmer
- To shine faintly or unsteadily
- To give off a subdued or unsteady reflection
- To appear indistinctly with a faintly luminous quality
- A feeble or intermittent light
- A dim perception or faint idea: inkling
- A hint or spark
I hope that as this new year progresses, I will see glimmers of the “old” me and glimmers of the “new” me that I am becoming as my life changes. I hope that at this time next year, when I look back and reflect on all that has transpired, that the calendar is filled with little (and big) glimmering moments and memories.
Happy New Year! xoxo
nancyhotson 