I am very partial to the rudderless space between the Christmas end of busyness and the new year trampoline. Beyond being the only excusable period to constantly eat, drink and be merry, it is a liminal space in which we chew over our year. When it doesn’t have to be any more than mere musing, simply allowing our consciousness to bubble to the surface of our mind’s ocean.
The cosmos has come to the party with a delightfully unaspected few days. The full moon peaks on the other side of our annual line as our major planetary players are lining up to be counted in Capricornia. Our rebuild begins there but I will be taking my sweet time, ambling towards the line that heralds next year for me: the new moon in the last days of Capricorn.
Until then I am obeying twin urges to rest and to sort. To float through the detritus of the year nearly done and choose what I will salvage and what I shall let drift away in my wake. To recognise what compels me to peer into the horizon and welcome its impending arrival. To run my hands gently over the form of next year without any need to tear open its wrapping, just yet. To drift between space and time and let it all settle in around me.
“I’ve learned to stop rushing things that need time to grow.”
Surreal art by Caitlin Welz-Stein
Words © Kerrie Basha, 2017