2020: The year of possibility.

“I dwell in possibility …” ~ Emily Dickinson

For the past 16 days, I have felt unprepared for 2020… not quite yet settled on the idea of changing over a decade or even changing over a year. It seems too big; too important; too monumental. And at the moment, I feel a bit too small; a bit too timid; and all together too quiet inside. That hardly seems like a recipe for taking on 2020 with any sort of power or enthusiasm.

But time, in the relentless way that it does, continues marching forward. And so I too move forward – reluctant as my movements may be.

And even as I am here dragging my feet through the first few weeks of the year, I can’t help but mull over the word I chose at the end of 2019 that I had hoped would give me some comfort and guidance moving forward. Generally, I can find solace and power in words; as if they take on a life of their own and act as friend or mentor. After all, words have moved people to tears, mobilized countries or even the world. They have brought about great big belly laughs, and changed lives.

And so in my quiet and timid, my small and subtle way, I have sat here these past weeks and flipped my word over and over in my brain – trying to inspect it from top to bottom – as if it might be hiding something from me, keeping a secret locked up and far away. Or perhaps it’s less poetic than that, and really I’m just trying to appear prepared for 2020 by being busy with words.

Regardless of my motives – original or current – the truth is that the word has been swimming around in my head for days. It pops up in unexpected places and has taken on a life of its own. It has become more salient, expansive, and specific, all at once. And it has given me the grace to let go of ambitious goals and desires, for the time being at least.

My word. My companion. My adversary and friend is possibility.

On the surface it may sound lofty or expansive. But in truth, I chose this word because of its ability to hold space for breath and stillness. Sure, we often use this word in a context that demands action and power, itemized lists and long hours. But possibility doesn’t need to ride in on sparks and light, fire and passion. Possibility can arrive like a pastel sunrise – all pale blues and pinks. It can arrive on the wings of storks, wrapped in the grace of riding the air currents in an open sky.

My year may have begun without a pop or a zing; without itemized lists of resolutions and action plans to get there. But my year did begin with sunrises and storks, kindness and color, stillness and breath. With possibilities yet undiscovered but teeming just under the surface of tomorrow. And for however long I need to take until I feel prepared for 2020, they will be there. Waiting for me.