Thank you, my Terra Firma

A New Year’s note

We are drawn to the sea because we are not of the sea. The sea is foreign, stranger, unknowable, shapeless.

We are of the land. We are of the shores, coastlines, coves, ports. The sea is shapeless, yet not boundless.

Roaming, diving, swimming, surfing are time-bound, knowing we’ll return to terra firma, dry haven.

Thus I thank you, my Terra Firma.

I thank you that are my shores, my coves, my ports. Some of you are my lighthouses, beacons in my life, signalling what truly matters. Not whimsy waves, not changing currents.

Without you I could not set sail, without knowing I have docks to return to. Even when the coastline is out of sight, I know there is one.

At the cusp of the year I look back to a turmoil that only scared me when I forgot that I could simply put my feet down and stop the current from carrying me too far.

I should not take you for granted. I do not. So while the new year begins, while you drink, you dance, you eat, you fuck, you kiss, and then eat again and drink again and dance again I wish you the best year you could hope for. Not out of ritual but of gratitude.

Thank you my friends, thank you my family.

Cheers to you.

Oh, the vibrance

Sun in my eyes (it gets brighter)

‘Til you can not longer see (and you’re not lonely)

And you are no longer growing (to face up)

That January ain’t the whole world

And falling’s really over shown

And you’re never really, really on yourown

First thing is just be watched

Time heals, and then it repeats You will never be complete

And the strain and thirst are sweet

You have not yet gone too deep