A new year.  It’s a symbolic clean slate.  The chance to start fresh.  My husband gave me the most perfect
new year’s gift-- an empty desk just for me—in a clean, well lit, warm art space.  And with it, a chance to get back to back to being genuine.  I’m a goal-setter so new year’s resolutions come naturally to me.  I started thinking about resolutions at the Winter Solstice and realized I had left some of the most important parts of me behind.  My resolution this year is to be true to myself.  

How did I stray so far off course? It just so happens I’m also an adapter.  I have a mutable personality and that’s why, when my new husband and his sons moved into my house three years ago, I decided to make a big 
change.  So grateful that they were joining me in house I loved, I was eager to show my willingness to adapt.  Bear in mind my home was already overflowing.  My space was brimming.  It was stuffed with stuff.  I was hanging on tight to my childhood memories, my half of the detritus from a 20-year-marriage, and assorted boxes full of my children’s memories.  Did I mention that I’m a collector? 

Optimistically we shoehorned our new family into this space the best we could.  I spent weeks prior to our wedding day weeding through my art supplies.  The plan was to turn half of my basement art area into a bedroom.  It seemed logical to sacrifice some paper and paints to make three guys feel welcome.  I attacked my mission with zeal.  Meanwhile, my husband had the loathsome task of cramming all of his belongings into the remaining cracks and crevices.  

Enter the desk.  While I was occupied with giving up my cache of art supplies a crippling scenario was taking place in the sunroom.  After three moves and zero time or energy to organize papers, my husband had no choice but stack every important and seemingly important paper on a desk in the sunroom.   He had too much to handle.  Filing was risky.  Sorting was agonizing.  The fear of losing essential papers was paralyzing.   What's worse is the torture was apparent.  While the basement door could be shut, the desk in the sunroom was always in plain sight, groaning with the weight.  We were trapped.  I gave up part of my identity and his was lost somewhere in piles of papers.

The first year was really tough for all kinds of reasons.  After a year my stepsons moved on but me and my husband remained in "desk limbo."  What used to be a basement art haven became invisible.  My dusty drafting table was stacked with forgotten materials.  And the piles grew in the sunroom.  Turning opposite of true north, I gave my drafting table to my younger stepson.  Oddly enough, that might have been just the wake up call I needed.   Soon after, I dug out my art journal and went back to play.  

This past summer I asked to have the sunroom desk in exchange for a space in the basement.  Thus began a series of lessons that probably will be discussed in more detail on other days in other articles.  I had to confront my communications demons; it was not a pretty picture.  One day I figured out how to use my words and a lightbulb switched on above both our heads.  Suffice it to say it’s been a 3-year-long learning experience that was an effective teaching tool on so many levels.  

The happy news is the gift.  We came to a mutual agreement that has left us both happy, true to ourselves and most important, with usable space each of us to fill however we choose.  To my utter surprise and delight I looked into the sunroom yesterday and saw a completely empty desk.  And now, at the start of a new year I have a gleaming new art table just waiting for me to play.  I wonder if he knows his gift wasn't just a clean desk for me; it was a clean slate for us. Thanks to you, my darling! 

Midwinter.  The day we say goodbye to darkness and welcome the light.  The solstices and equinoxes signal new seasons.  These seasonal transitions are the perfect times to set personal intentions.  But no transition is more potent than the Winter Solstice.  The symbolism of light's triumph over darkness has resonated with mankind throughout the ages.

The Winter Solstice falls on December 22nd this year, the day the sun is the lowest in the southern sky.  The exact time is 05:30 GMT.  Solstice celebrations have been among the most important festivals since ancient times.   The days grew shorter and shorter until the Solstice when the sun began to rise again.   The light brings hope and the promise of plenty.

"The most exciting thing in Orkney, perhaps in Scotland, is going to happen this afternoon at sunset, in few other places even in Orkney can you see the wide hemisphere of sky in all its plenitude.

The winter sun just hangs over the ridge of the Coolags. Its setting will seal the shortest day of the year, the winter solstice. At this season the sun is a pale wick between two gulfs of darkness. Surely there could be no darker place in the be-wintered world than the interior of Maeshowe.

One of the light rays is caught in this stone web of death. Through the long corridor it has found its way; it splashes the far wall of the chamber. The illumination lasts a few minutes, then is quenched

Winter after winter I never cease to wonder at the way primitive man arranged, in hewn stone, such powerful symbolism."The poet George Mackay Brown on midwinter at Maeshowe.

This day brings renewal and with it, an opportunity to renew ourselves.  The transition from dark to light is the perfect time to examine motivations and goals.  What changes can we make so that our lives will run more smoothly?  This is the ideal time for resolutions.   

Last month I talked about two aspects of body image.  In accepting myself, I wrestled with maintaining a positive self image in spite of life's ups and downs.   Adorning myself dealt with boosting self-esteem with head-to-toe makeovers.  Ultimately, self-acceptance comes from within.  This series details  my checklist for an inside-out makeover.

#1.  Get strong.

First on my list is strength.  In my experience, getting strong is the most important thing I can do to shape my attitude.  Somehow a set of strong, competent muscles has an amazing effect on my psyche.  As if a sturdy internal framework fortifies my very spirit.  I'm talking about more than a daily walk.  My suggestion is good old fashioned variations of crunches or planks, tricep extensions and lunges.  Fancy equipment and gym memberships are not required.  Start slow and be consistent.  You will feel so empowered by your progress!

The first time I remember using strength to bolster my spirit was 2007.  My younger child was a senior and I felt terrified by the inevitable empty nest.  I decided to enter the Danskin Women's Triathlon.  It was an athletic goal beyond anything I'd ever done but why not set my sights high?  Indeed.  I hadn't run in a couple of years.  It had been 10 years since I'd been on my bike.  And not only had I never learned the crawl, it had been 20 years since I'd done anything in a pool besides float.  Other than these minor obstacles I figured I'd be good.  It certainly took my mind off losing my baby.  In return for pushing my limits I gained an awareness of my own strength that will last my lifetime.

My mother was an amazing example of strength.  She took Jazzercize classes 3 days a week for 20 years;  on alternate days, 50-minute power walks.  Sinewy and fiercely strong, she could take on any challenge.  That her amazing strength outlasted her failing mind is a testament to maintaining a strong body.   Her will remained powerful to the end.

I wish I had remembered my own advice earlier this month when I injured my foot.  Although I'm happy for the rest and the space I created, adding a little yoga to my routine might be a good balance next time I'm in that situation.  Running for the first time yesterday reminded me how good it feels to use my body.  And today, each step brings a painful, yet welcome reminder of my personal strength.