2023: Fog or Head-butting Goat?

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As 2023 wound down, I began searching for a metaphor to understand the year that was.  A hectic schedule found me immersed in unrelenting work demands that kept me away from the joy of writing. As I often do, I turned to nature to unwind and invite inspiration back into my world. I needed to reset myself for a different experience in 2024.

The day after Christmas my husband and I took a detour through the Shenandoah Valley and climbed to the top of Lydia Mountain (driving, not hiking). Mountains and a distant horizon would usually fill me with inspiration and clarity for whatever is perplexing me. Alas, the morning fog blocked any view. In a year that found me mostly with my head down and focused on work, the fog-blocked view seemed appropriate, an apt metaphor for what I’d experienced in the past six months of mostly slogging through the days of more work and less writing, more intensity and less clarity.

As we descended the mountain, we passed several penned goats. One of the goats was head-butting an electrical post. The goat was unphased but determined. Bam, bam, bam. Yet another appropriate metaphor for 2023? All of my energy and toil for naught. We laughed, not realizing that goats are prone to head-butting for a variety of reasons—as are humans.

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I yearn for happiness and growth for myself and those around me. Movement forward is the name of the game, the reason for New Year’s resolutions, the human experience. To improve with each passing year is what we expect. But this past year featured health challenges, work challenges, family relocations, and significant loss for some in our extended family and friends. So, losing focus on writing is a minor trial by comparison.  Writing usually sustains me through the tribulations thrown in my path, but 2023, it seemed, had stolen that from me.

Still, the optimist buried deep in my bones refuses to let the head-butting goat prevail. And 2024 will NOT be the year of unrewarded toil, even if the reward is the sheer joy of it all.

So, I again put myself in nature and went on a short hike on New Year’s Eve. I passed a grove of tangled trees, bare of leaves and standing firm against the breeze. I trounced through muddy and twisting trails, and I side-stepped dog poo in search of something beautiful, something uplifting and inspiring. At the end of the trail, I lifted my gaze toward the sky and saw frothy clouds against an azure sky—echoing the Georgia O’Keefe painting. Ah, finally.  Beauty, art, nature at its finest.

For 2024, I choose to seek out beauty, to find clarity where there is fog, and to leave the head-butting to our goat friends. I get to choose, and I get to write. 2024 – the year of joyful writing.

Where will you find joy this year?

(Photo credit: Roosendaal, Rollercoaster trail, James S. Long Park)