DECEMBER

…and a celebration of the heavy heart.

It always feels that every celebration is also a grievance. Birthdays are like that, and new years. We say hi and bye avoiding too much thinking of what is slipping away. We take good with the bad, we entering new waters of the same river, hoping it will hold, hope we can stay afloat.

River never betrays, it carries us on, this river of time, this river of life, this river of you-can’t-go-back. We will see new places and we will learn new things. We will also forget things because river is merciful. We forget us as we were, and in a future, as we are now. The hindsight is a soft filter. The pink rear view mirrors of nostalgia come with a warning - objects in a mirror are farther and farther, and blind spot can be anywhere your mind puts it, wiping the slate clean, erasing what we don’t want to see anymore. You know the trick. If you change the beginning the ending will also change. In a different place, at the different time…but I already hear the sound of the ocean.

Fear

Khalil Gibran

It is said that before entering the sea
a river trembles with fear.

She looks back at the path she has traveled,
from the peaks of the mountains,
the long winding road crossing forests and villages.

And in front of her,
she sees an ocean so vast,
that to enter
there seems nothing more than to disappear forever.

But there is no other way.
The river can not go back.

Nobody can go back.
To go back is impossible in existence.

The river needs to take the risk
of entering the ocean
because only then will fear disappear,
because that’s where the river will know
it’s not about disappearing into the ocean,
but of becoming the ocean.