A couple weeks ago, after being safely sequestered in my house for three pleasantly isolated days during the coldest temps I’ve ever lived through (-50 degrees windchills in Colorado!), I visited my new favorite spot in town for an iced decaf latte and wrote a lovely year-end reflection that I was so excited to share.
I mused through a rough summary of the trajectory of 2022 — how I really embraced it as my Year of Trust and leaned hard into my deepest, gut-level sense of knowing; how I moved through weeks of ‘no’ toward creating a detailed vision of what a resounding ‘yes’ for work and art and relationships would be for me. A salient theme I shared was just how much I recognize and appreciate the support of my friends and community, which, in very obvious ways, made the most significant and positive aspects of my year possible. And my favorite line from the post captured the essence of my process this year, which ended with a poetic rhythm stating, “…to let, to will, and to let again.”
I’ve learned it’s best to give myself time between writing and hitting “publish” so that I can review for edits and the inevitable typos with fresh eyes, so I packed up my things and headed home. When I returned to apply the finishing touches and include a link to my corresponding End-of-2022-Playlist, my heart was crushed to realize the draft post didn’t actually save at all. It was all gone, everything that led up to and followed that beautiful line about letting and willing and letting again. How poignant.
Rather than trying to recreate the post, on this last night of the year, I’ve decided to share something simple that I think about VERY often. My dear BMAC Crew, this one is for you. You are a small but loyal bunch. You are patient, kind, and generous. You have my deepest gratitude, and I think about you all the time.
When I started writing here on BMAC, my hope was that this would be a place where I could write more freely, without the inhibitions that plagued me when I would consider writing something to post directly on my professional website (well, it’s always been a personal website, but ever since adding my consulting business to it, things felt murkier than I ever prefer them to be). I wanted it to be more personal, more vulnerable, more honest here. And more consistent.
Most importantly, I was excited to designate a different kind of space where I could trust that whoever read my stuff here, actually wanted to engage with it, and they may even want to support me in it. I figured knowing this might allow for a different kind of relationship to my own process by redefining my relationship to a very specific audience, which might help me avoid, or even push through, my own walls and writer’s block, the internal frictions that frequently result in me getting in my own way.
Even though I haven’t been writing here as much as I anticipated or would have liked, particularly over this past year, your support HAS actually offered me exactly what I hoped for. One clear example of this was my happy little experiment with “Learning Healing.” It is one of my favorite spontaneous creative projects I’ve ever done, and I didn’t hesitate to share it here. As I reflected on this year, I took stock of all the other major things I put energy into (talks, lectures, seminar series, keynotes, podcast interviews, live streams, a pretty strange birthday party, and new content for my own approach to how I do DEI work with groups…and none of that even touches on the things I’ve learned through and about my intimate and romantic relationships). I didn’t share updates or reflections on these various experiences here, but you are the audience I want to tell, because I know I could share different types of reflections with you, and do so in different ways.
I am genuinely grateful for anyone who subscribes to follow my work on any platform (at this point there are many, and my own sense of overwhelm about keeping them relevant causes me to neglect pretty much all of them). But you all have a very special place in my heart because of how you have supported me and met me here, on another platform, another interface, in ways that I feel every single day. It has encouraged me to consistently consider who I am as a creative (dare I say, an artist!), and invites me to imagine potentials I still want to explore with my own voice.
This year, as my Year of Trust, has been immensely rewarding. There has been a long arc in my own journey over the past three years leading up to this, and for the first time in over ten years, I feel like I am finally secure, stable, and the most content I’ve been. I’ve learned to trust myself, to trust my process even more, and to trust that the art and creative projects that mean the most to me will also be meaningful for the right people, the ones who get it.
Holding space and appreciation for you and everything that has made it possible for me to get to this precise moment, I am so excited for what will transpire in the months and years ahead. Already it is looking to be a full year, so I’m preparing by getting grounded in my intentions for this next phase. Last month, I understood that 2023 will be my Year of Becoming (which echoes with the exuberance of Nietzsche, my philosophical love, and his directive to “become who you are!”).
My hope and anticipation is that this will be the year when I discover how to newly embody a critical part of my vision for my work and art and relationships by becoming who I am as a Meta-Philosophical Performance Artist. And I hope this develops in many ways, across many platforms, in numerous spaces, especially including whatever, and however, I will come to share that journey with you here.
As a byproduct of 2022 and my expanded capacity around trust, I’m already less nervous or worried about sharing my weird projects and unusual ideas, but the audience I feel most comfortable sharing with is still you, who I lovingly refer to in my head as my Buy Me a Coffee Crew. This is partly because I know who you are - you are individuals in my life with whom I have unique relationships, some that have lasted for many years and span a significant amount of space and time. But I feel less afraid to move boldly into this next year because I am literally able to picture you in my corner - I see your faces, I cherish your words, and I am so profoundly grateful for your support. You have helped me get to this place from where I will continue to grow and create.
With all my heart, and all the big thoughts and deep feelings it contains, thank you.
If you'd like to vibe with me and follow along the journey, here's a link to listen to my "Become Who You Are!" playlist. :)