The dream of the new year

[kaberett]

May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.

... says Neil Gaiman, at intervals, and I know that he is dreadful, and I take issue with the idea of good madness (at least for myself); and yet - and yet, this.

Because: the days are getting longer, and light is seeping back into the world. Because I've made it halfway through winter. Because it reminds me to find other people wonderful, and to trust that others might feel similarly about me; because it reminds me to dare to make art.

And: yes, I don't think a changing number in the Gregorian calendar makes a huge difference to What Things Will Be Like, but - it's a useful milestone; a useful waymarker at which to lay down one's load and consider the path ahead. So that's the dream, maybe, but I don't think it's an unrealistic one: that I might have choice, and the space to choose wisely.