I cannot dance.
I love love LOVE music, and will often flail my limbs about in some sort of full body response to the music, but dance I cannot.
As a young child I had piano and organ and theory lessons (yes I was THAT kid) at a school that had music and dance classes. As I sat with my music sheets and pencil, the dance students would glide on by at the end of their classes. All ballet shoes and dance stockings and leotards and long hair pulled back, and impossibly smooth movements that I could never ever replicate.
Instead, I would adjust my glasses (and I still do) and get back to interpreting marks on a page (and I still do) and sit still (and I still do).
As 2014 was drawing to a close, I was feeling the pull to do it again. Sit still, make marks on a page, and find the light and the dark from the year that was.
The year that was the long trek, one foot after the other, out of the dark swamp of grief, and back into the open air and the sunlight of life.
It took a while, but we made it out.
Our New Year’s Eve was in fact our Christmas Day. A Wakefield Christmas Day, anyway.
We had an epic lunch.
Including some serious dessert action.
And a fab afternoon of chatting and gift giving and more chatting.
Then, as the day turned to night, we shifted gears from Christmas Day to New Year’s Day.
We spent the evening around the fire at Rob and Suzie’s. Eating leftover Christmas food (YUM) and chatting some more.
There were oversized marshmallows for toasting in the fire. And sparklers, of course.
Late in the night I opened the fanciest bottle of champagne that I have ever bought. And forget to take a picture. Bad blogger!
And for those who felt like it, we had a word ceremony, right on midnight.
I had brought along some beautiful parchment paper, and we wrote thoughts about the year that was ending, the year to come, or anything really, and then threw those notes in the fire.
There was something so satisfying watching them go up in flames. To let things go, and allow space for the new.
The children fell asleep in unlikely places (always the sign of a great family night) and all of the adults managed to hold on until midnight.
And, of course, there was a game of glow in the dark quoits for the late night crowd.
There was silliness and love and laughter in our night.
And so began my 2015. Around a fire, surrounded by my family.
I thought my 2015 would need a word. After all, I see myself as a bit of a hack storyteller and writer. So a word seemed like the natural choice.
But within days, I could feel the truth.
My 2015 needs a dance step. To be precise a 2-step.
… Decide … Act …
For too long I have been talking and angst-ing (that is SO a word) and planning and learning and dreaming.
Those things need to carry on. And being the Queen of the Overthinkers, there is no way they will stop.
It is time for a pattern break.
Time to step out, onto the dance floor, and begin to move.
Decide … then … Act
Twist twist …
Decide … then … Act.
If you’re not a fan of flailing limbs and inelegant movement, then perhaps you should avert your eyes.
Because my 2015 mantra is going to be to dance the 2 step.
The Decide … then Act … 2 step.
Are you ready?
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