FAREWELL, 2016!
Dear Ones:
OK.
Let's do this.
Let's say our goodbyes to 2016.
But let's think for a moment, really seriously, about HOW we're going to say our goodbyes to 2016.
The easiest and least thoughful way to do it is by saying, "Fuck you, 2016!" — which I keep hearing people say...
And listen, I GET IT.
It's been a hell of a year. I won't review the major facts on a global level, because you already know the heartbreaks and the madness of 2016. You who we lost (and who we GOT.) I know a lot of you are feeling battered and anxious and undone and freaked out by this, and I HEAR YOU.
But I still can't say "Fuck you, 2016."
I can't. I can't hate on any of the years. I can't hate on the gift and complexity of life itself, of time itself. I just can't.
And for me, 2016 was a hard year not only nationally and globally, but also personally. I was faced with the challenges of a divorce, the terrifying cancer diagnosis of my most beloved person, the deaths of precious loved ones, the complete upheaval of my personal life. It's been a year of funerals and lawyers and hospitals and fear and courage and shocking changes and awe and love and sorrow and forgiveness and grace and pain.
If you had sat me down on January 1, 2016, and told me what was coming this year — to me, and to all of us — I don't know if I would have fainted, cried, punched you in the face, called you a liar, or starting digging a really deep hole to hide myself in.
But see...here's the thing: They NEVER tell you what's coming. And even if you did see what was coming, you don't GET to dig a hole to hide in. Not while you're still lucky enough to be alive.
What is coming shall come, and — as long as you live — you will have the enormous privilege and challenge of trying to figure out how to respond to destiny.
Tomorrow, when you are gifted with a brand new year (and it IS a gift), nobody will sit you down and tell you what's going to happen in the next 12 months, and — as it unfolds — nobody will be able to tell you how to endure it, or how to enjoy it, or how to understand it.
That part will be up to you.
Life will keep unfolding; you must keep manufacturing your own response.
Which brings me to this photo....
The woman in this picture was named Rozella Perry. She was one of the more interesting people who died in 2016. She was a farmgirl from Nebraska, who entered the workforce during WWII to work as a welder, building pontoon boats for the war effort After the war, she was one of the few women to continue to find employment in heavy industry — supporting her family by working as a welder, after her husband was injured in a railroad accident. She died just a few weeks ago. She wasn't famous, so her death didn't get a lot of play, but I found this photo of her when she was young, and I fell in love with her...
I mean: LOOK AT HER!
I thought this photo would be a wonderful illustration of how to BE, in the face of unpredictable and sometimes heartbreaking life events.
You may remember that in EAT PRAY LOVE, I wrote about my theory of Free Will vs. Fate. I described a human life as being something like a circus performer, riding on two horses at the same time.
One horse is fate — that which we absolutely cannot control.
The other horse is free will — our own choices about how to direct our own lives (and how we respond to fate.)
We are not 100% victims of destiny, nor are we 100% masters of our own fate. It is constant shifting of energy between these two forces...and you often must steer the horse of free will very carefully (but bravely) in order to keep it in responsive alignment with the more wild horse of destiny.
It's a hell of a ride, you guys. Sometimes it's terrifying. Sometimes one horse seems more powerful than the other. But it's still the greatest game on earth. And there are ALWAYS two horses under you....and there always will be, as long as you're still here.
You will ALWAYS have things that happen to you, that you did not choose.
You will ALWAYS have choices about how to respond.
The most masterful and brave riders of life end up looking like Rozella here — straddled courageously between these two powerful forces (that which you can control, and that which you cannot control) — and just giving a big salute to the universe the whole time, like, "OK, y'all! Let's do this! Here we go!"
So...
I know it's been a hard year for many of you.
ME, TOO.
But you are still here. I am still here. We are still in the ring. We still have choices. We still have power.
And that's incredible.
Also: frightening.
Also: sacred.
This is my wish for you all: That you find a way to stay brave and focused and strong and responsive atop BOTH your horses — both the uncontrollable one, and the controllable one.
Don't surrender into feelings of utter helplessness (if you are capable of reading this, you are not utterly helpless), but don't get cocky about feeling that you are all-powerful, either (the world will correct you of that delusion soon enough)...but instead find your position of respect and curiosity and courage about EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS.
So cock your hat, everyone. What's done is done. What's coming is coming. Brace yourself and relax (Yes! Brace yourself AND relax AT THE SAME TIME; it's an art form.) Make the best choices you can make in split-second intervals, make course corrections as you must, say goodbye to everything that is behind you, give a jaunty salute to all that's ahead of you, keep galloping through this messy life as fast as the wind, be grateful that you are still here...and then?
LET'S RIDE.
ONWARD,
LG
LG
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