Well, my dear Fearless year, we've had quite the time, haven't we? We crashed into 2014 together, intent on growth and success and soul-knowing. And we did it. We grew. We saw some successes (and some failures). And today, I know my soul far better than I did at this time last year.
It's been quite the year.
I wrote a book. And published it. And then wrote most of another book. And a book of poetry (coming soon, I hope).
I did a lot of things to my hair, intent on discovering what is most me-ish.
I pierced my nose, after much dreaming, and made plans for future tattoos.
I made art.
I made love. I enjoyed my first orgasm. And then a bunch more after that.
I fought for my marriage.
I fought for my soul, reclaiming it for myself from all those darn shoulds.
I fought depression.
I said hello, hugged beloved kindreds.
I said goodbye. And it hurt. A lot. Especially when my farewell went unnoticed.
I traveled (twice!!).
I went down a scary water slide . . . and liked it.
I said no. And yes.
I explored. I found a cave. I found my self.
I howled at the moon.
I said hard things. I said nothing.
I made mistakes. A lot of them.
I cursed more. I listened harder. I tried to love better.
I wore real lipstick for the first time, and loved it.
I charged forward, and stepped back.
I danced wild.
I (with some help) gave a new person life within me.
I whispered "I love you" an extravagant amount of times into my beloveds ears.
I was afraid. I did it anyway. And sometimes I didn't.
Quite the year. I've never lived a year so full, I think. Not ever.
What I've loved about my Fearless year is how I went after it, sometimes aggressively, went after the life I longed for, the self that I wanted to be, the way that I wanted to walk in the world. I went for it. And what I found difficult about my Fearless year in hindsight, is, um, that selfsame aggression. Sometimes I went too hard (and sometimes not hard enough). I was not always the most nuanced in my awakening. I stepped on toes, quite a few of them. For that I am sorry.
I also pulled my own toes out from a number of different heels, of things that snagged my soul and kept my knotted up and small. So, for all my mistakes and stumblings, it was worth it. I look back at my Fearless year and am satisfied. Because I went for it. And that is, if not everything, then a lot.
Thank you, my Fearless year. You taught me a lot about how I want to be, and how I don't want to be, and who I'd like to walk with, and where. You taught me that fearlessness is not a state of walking without fear, but a state of being fearful but daring to walk anyway. You taught me about the nature of courage, and how sometimes it is loud and sometimes it is soft, and sometimes it can look a lot like sleeping, which was unexpected.
I felt so young this year, my Fearless year, so full of life. And then sometimes I felt excruciatingly old. That was harder, but you had lessons for me there, too. You taught me more in the art of turning the everyday into magic that is no less sparkling for its mundanity.
You taught me to be me, and you taught me well, I think. And now it is time to say goodbye, my Fearless year, to release and renew and rediscover. I'm sure I will meet you again one day, and perhaps even one day soon. But for now, we part.
Thank you and thank you and thank you, my Fearless year. I will never be the same, and I will never stop being grateful for that.