New Year

On the first day of 2015, I read and I walked.

In the morning I immersed myself in The Faraway Nearby and other writing by and about Rebecca Solnit; just before noon I re-emerged into the here and now: a rare clear, blue, winter day in Vancouver. And so it was easy and natural to set my intention and destination for the afternoon: a long, city walk with my faithful companion that would eventually lead us to the trails alongside Lost Lagoon and Beaver Lake at Stanley Park.


We stayed until daylight waned, and then retraced our steps home along the seawall, pausing at Sunset Beach to sit on a log and watch the moon rise over downtown Vancouver.


On the first evening and night of 2015, sleep came easily and early, and was long and deep.

On the second day of the new year, I woke up early to write. I wrote for as long as I had walked the day before, trying to make my words as perfect as the day had been, before realizing the shortest, simplest way to the truth of my experience is the best version to save and share. So here it is.

After publishing this post yesterday evening, I returned to reading and discovered The Gifts of Hibernation, a beautiful essay at the On Being blog.

Hibernation restores us to our nourishing, grounding source and, in so doing, frees us to become a force of reason, reflection, and kindness.  (Source)

How did you begin 2015?  And have you been "hibernating" this winter?