What happens for anyone within the space/time of one year?
It’s too much to measure or even speak of, isn’t it?
Perhaps some patterns appear, but these are so gross, and life is so immensely nuanced.
How many present moments occur in the turn of 12 calendar pages?
I already know without grabbing my calculator that the number is too big for my brain.
But I’m certain we have changed in every one of them.
Who else could understand the unfathomably intimate relationship we have with ourselves?
Is it fair to expect someone to even try?
And how can we really know what’s going on with them?
In the vastness of what can’t be accomplished, only curiosity makes sense to me.
How much are we willing to learn about ourselves?
And the other?
And given the impossibility of really knowing anything, can we make patience and compassion our starting point?
I sat down to write about conclusions.
But received only queries.
There is only one question.
With eight billion answers.
Or, eight billion questions.
With just one answer.
I would love to collaborate with you more in the new year! Follow my book page, Divorce: A Love Story, on Facebook here. Connect with my Instagram page here. Watch for my new podcast Alive & Kicking in just a few weeks!