December 31, 2012
I'll have to state this right at the beginning: 2012 was, without any doubt whatsoever, by far the most fascinating year of my life. Hands down, it beat every other year. That does not mean, even remotely, that it was a year of joy and happiness. It wasn't, not even by any stretch of distant imagination. The flag rose many a time, and fluttered proudly too, only to be hit by sudden, totally incomprehensible, storms that brought a kind of misery that I've come to know far too closely. But the year was colorful to say the least, and the various hues that spread themselves out on the canvas of my life, made it vivid and memorable.
When you get to a really low point in life, you wonder if there can possibly be something even lower. As the sun sets on another year that saw significant ups and even more significant downs, those thoughts cloud my mind. I had hoped and wished at the end of last year (2011) that there were no more depths, that the graph of my life couldn't drop further. Needless to say, those wishes of mine were left unfulfilled. The start to the year was relatively silent, though there were traces of winds that promised to bring some things of note. And they did come, those phases of high, that made the year somewhat bearable.
Yet, there was something sad about the year that's almost inexplicable. It's not hard to put a finger on what went wrong; that's almost straight forward. But the meaning underlying those shadows that swept across the year, bringing flashes of tremendous low, escapes me. In the past, through every one of the endless stretches of darkness, there was some kind of hidden meaning, and most certainly valuable lessons. But none of the trenches made sense this year. I doubt there was anything to take away from them, save the knowledge that life can dip to newer and newer lows every year.
I did make some strides in the direction of my dreams. Publishing my first book 'Rainy Days' was a hugely satisfying experience, and it renewed my hopes of an interesting, 'story-filled' life ahead. It, even if ever so briefly, created a crest of unexpected high. It was also an immensely compelling, challenging, and demanding year at work - the most riveting phase of my professional life. And it made up in a very small way - as much as that aspect of life can - for the underlying sorrow that forever lingered around and never let go.
It was, literally, a year of wildly swinging fortunes and emotions, spanning almost the entire range of the spectrum, yet still - somewhat ironically - clearly missing the target. The sheer number of different experiences that made an impact were almost too much to take, perhaps in a strangely positive way. Yes, it wasn't a happy year, but thankfully, it wasn't boring either. I do not know if one can bear all the sorrows that come unrelenting, if life is made interesting. But maybe, it's better than emptiness.
"It's not the end of the world," my heart says, after every failure. 2012 wasn't the end of the world either. And maybe that's an unlikely kind of consolation, perhaps even an inspiration, as the world - and life - goes on. Perhaps the events of the past year will make some sort of sense in 2013, maybe even sometime later in life, I don't know. But given the long, one dimensional phase of bad luck, the belief in some sort of level playing field and order in the world and beyond is hard to sustain.
Even so, as I close the pages of the past year and open a new chapter, everything within me is fighting to keep the belief alive. All I hope for 2013, is that it makes a little more sense. A bit of felicity and good luck will be welcome too!
I'll have to state this right at the beginning: 2012 was, without any doubt whatsoever, by far the most fascinating year of my life. Hands down, it beat every other year. That does not mean, even remotely, that it was a year of joy and happiness. It wasn't, not even by any stretch of distant imagination. The flag rose many a time, and fluttered proudly too, only to be hit by sudden, totally incomprehensible, storms that brought a kind of misery that I've come to know far too closely. But the year was colorful to say the least, and the various hues that spread themselves out on the canvas of my life, made it vivid and memorable.
When you get to a really low point in life, you wonder if there can possibly be something even lower. As the sun sets on another year that saw significant ups and even more significant downs, those thoughts cloud my mind. I had hoped and wished at the end of last year (2011) that there were no more depths, that the graph of my life couldn't drop further. Needless to say, those wishes of mine were left unfulfilled. The start to the year was relatively silent, though there were traces of winds that promised to bring some things of note. And they did come, those phases of high, that made the year somewhat bearable.
Yet, there was something sad about the year that's almost inexplicable. It's not hard to put a finger on what went wrong; that's almost straight forward. But the meaning underlying those shadows that swept across the year, bringing flashes of tremendous low, escapes me. In the past, through every one of the endless stretches of darkness, there was some kind of hidden meaning, and most certainly valuable lessons. But none of the trenches made sense this year. I doubt there was anything to take away from them, save the knowledge that life can dip to newer and newer lows every year.
I did make some strides in the direction of my dreams. Publishing my first book 'Rainy Days' was a hugely satisfying experience, and it renewed my hopes of an interesting, 'story-filled' life ahead. It, even if ever so briefly, created a crest of unexpected high. It was also an immensely compelling, challenging, and demanding year at work - the most riveting phase of my professional life. And it made up in a very small way - as much as that aspect of life can - for the underlying sorrow that forever lingered around and never let go.
It was, literally, a year of wildly swinging fortunes and emotions, spanning almost the entire range of the spectrum, yet still - somewhat ironically - clearly missing the target. The sheer number of different experiences that made an impact were almost too much to take, perhaps in a strangely positive way. Yes, it wasn't a happy year, but thankfully, it wasn't boring either. I do not know if one can bear all the sorrows that come unrelenting, if life is made interesting. But maybe, it's better than emptiness.
"It's not the end of the world," my heart says, after every failure. 2012 wasn't the end of the world either. And maybe that's an unlikely kind of consolation, perhaps even an inspiration, as the world - and life - goes on. Perhaps the events of the past year will make some sort of sense in 2013, maybe even sometime later in life, I don't know. But given the long, one dimensional phase of bad luck, the belief in some sort of level playing field and order in the world and beyond is hard to sustain.
Even so, as I close the pages of the past year and open a new chapter, everything within me is fighting to keep the belief alive. All I hope for 2013, is that it makes a little more sense. A bit of felicity and good luck will be welcome too!
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