By Annette Marie Hyder
New Year’s Eve 2012
New Year’s Eve is when the ground of time itself is magically primed and you can take all the bad and ill-will in your life, shape it into a seed and bury it.
What you are really doing is planting that seed and because of the nature of the confluence of the past and the present what will grow from that seed — if you bury it well — is not more of the same of that from whence it came. No, what you will get is The New Year Tree and on that tree are the flowers of possibility. These flowers and the fruits that spring from them are imbued with transformative promise for the future.
The flowers morph right before your eyes from trembling bud to globed fruit swinging on the vine
and though the fruit that hangs the lowest looks good to the eye you should climb that tree to reach the “pears”, “apples” and “figs” that nestle near the sky.
Embrace the tree, feel its rough bark against your sensitive skin, shimmy up the trunk pulling yourself up by the lower hanging branches (they are silver overlaying gold and the glittery dust off them coats and shimmers your skin). Once you have a perch, it is like most other things, a matter of doing the same thing again and again and again (life itself being a series of subsets of recurring patterns and repeating routines) but with more skill, agility and grace as you learn/move up the tree.
There are inscriptions on the leaves that make them look like banners bearing mottos or the fortunes from Chinese fortunes cookies rustling in the wind; they say things like, “Pluck the fruits of refreshment and enjoy them as you climb.“, “May your way shine with the beauty of movement.” and “To err is human, to fall angelic.”
Bees bright with gold against their black sides hum from their hive while the bold squirrel named Ratatoskr watches you climb.
Each level up offers a clearer view from your place upon the tree. There are hammocks swinging in the breeze, woven from the softest feathers; you can watch sunrise and sunset from your perch upon the tree. The moon will personally come by and serenade you. Birds flutter and a snake whispers through the leaves beckoning for you to stop climbing, to come and take your ease.
Nothing wrong with that — if that is what you want. But the way to the top, although it becomes treacherous, is lofty and proud; a ladder to the heavens. I’ll see you in the clouds.
Happy New Year!