January 1st. Emotions tangled.
I am usually a stay-present to-this-day type of person, rather than ruminating on what might be.
But I listen to the news feed, babies freezing to death in Gaza, the oligarchs ruling the world, playing silly games that will kill us all, the disgusting sanctioning of cruelty, violence and poverty to all who do not fit the stereotype of supremacy, and I feel despair.
Before sleep, last night, I finished and then reread the last few pages of Ta-Nihisi Coates’s The Message. The words so beautifully ordered, the pain generations deep. The call for the voices of those carrying the pain to be brought forward, to allow them to speak against the forces that prefer silence.
I know not what 2025 will hold. My little dog Milly has suddenly gone deaf, and her ability to go for walks diminished. I consider that. My father will be 92, his partner is showing early signs of dementia. I consider that. My love has to have more surgery and face an issue affecting mobility. I consider that.
Australia will go to the polls and choose who will steward our country for the next four years. The Trumpian wanna-be, the lacking-in-courage current leader, or a group of community-elected independents who might, I hope, hold the majority.
And Palestine? Will it disappear, as I believe the leadership of Israel hope? It is in a stage of erasure, on the world’s watch. What about Sudan? Do we care?
As a citizen of the land that sought to exterminate all of its Indigenous people, the reconciliation of my history with what we observe on the world stage is savage. How does one confront this brutal past and then find some way of threading a greater unity than existed before?
I watched the movie 6888 a few days ago and wept. I know how hard it is for women to get equality, but Black women – multiply the difficulty by 100. I am not sure it has changed.
My partner and I had a rare but difficult disagreement last night. The chasm of the unspoken is yet to be crossed. It sits raw.
Here we are, January 1st, in a cafe, surrounded by young people draped across tables, sleeping after a night of partying.
I have no idea what 2025 will bring. No one does.
What I do know is I get to choose how I show up. Do I, as Ted Lasso suggests – be like a goldfish and forget the sting of nasty within 10 seconds?
Do I practice kindness? Care. Be a stand for love, all-human dignity?
Justice?
Do I rail against the bullies?
Do I face the challenges with grace? And persist, against every force, for a more Syntropic World? Especially when my rage turns me sour?
Integrity. Equality. Justice. Peace. Kindness. Dignity. Joy.
Let us make a better 2025, no matter what happens.
This is up to me. And you.
Every moment. My choice. Our choice.
How we respond to what happens in 2025 is in our hands.
Photo Taken January 1st, 2025, Article written January 1st, 2025.
