Why does it matter, this changing of one year to the next and yet it seems to do so. I drove up Mt. Tamalpais this morning. It was cold, clear, and windy, as I walked along the crest of the hill looking out at the ocean and city. I felt cleansed by the wind, air, view. No one else was around, and the sea, rocks, trees, and birds were all part of me, and me, of them.
I come home to these words by Paul Klee: Imagine you are dead. After many years of exile you are permitted to cast a single glance earthward. You see a lamppost and an old dog lifting his leg against it. You are so moved that you cannot stop sobbing.
Tonight we enjoyed cheese fondue for dinner. It is a communal meal, delicious and enriched in sharing. May each of us open even more fully to the magical, mystical, majestic and mysterious realms we share. Happy New Year!
