It has been a dark year, personally for certain, but also culturally, politically, and environmentally. I lost my father unexpectedly. People have been put in charge who care only about their power as they exploit the earth and the diverse people who inhabit it. We lost so many visionaries: storytellers who saw magic in the world, sexy gender-boundary expanders, frank discussants of personal experiences with mental illness, composers of heart-expanding music. We lost black lives that mattered, queer lives that mattered, and poor lives that mattered because there are many in power who do not yet see the beauty and value in each of us.
Most of us are afraid of the dark. But the dark–of the night, of the future–though filled with dangers real and imagined, is also the darkness of possibility. The darkness of soil or womb in which a seed planted, grows, moving towards the light. A seed sprouting first, always, in the dark, the light being an inhospitable place for potential to begin the transformation into actual.
So as I sit in the dark tomorrow, saying goodbye to a year that was and hello to what will be, I will be that seed of possibility: bursting forth into the new year, reaching for the light.