And so this is December 2022.

I began writing about the year 2022–after not posting anything all year, more than a year–beginning on December 1st.

Each day represented a month. 2022 has taught me to be grateful there are only 12 months in a year given 2022 has felt like a year that began in 2020!

I began with January 2022; then on December 2nd, I wrote about February 2022; March and April I combined on December 3rd and 4th.

December 5th brought me to reflect on May, teaching, and the school year that was 2021-2022. Time is strange as it is, but a “new” year for those in the teaching professions at any level begins in August or September. So, in many ways, May of 2022 was an end-of-the-year.

December 6th and 7th gave me the chance to re-live June and July of 2022: time to write, travel, be with my family in California and my family of (writing) friends in Ireland.

I didn’t have much to say about August of 2022, so I kept it short on December 8th. I mean, what do you say about a train wreck? Final thoughts? Afterthoughts? Intuitive thoughts? Things truly unraveled in my school district, city and state in ways that were beyond my imagining. I felt like a fraud for having “done so well” the past two years. My measure for “doing well” is headspace for writing and reading. It’s only now that I am realizing that no one can carry so much for so many for so long. Whatever fortitude I had been able to muster out of some ancestral force for the past two years was completely depleted in this school year which began in August.

December 9th and December 10th I wrote about September and October.

November 2022 is when I was finally able to calibrate a sense of “normal” between teaching and breathing. I hadn’t felt this way since I was a very new teacher in Spanish Harlem in New York City 20 years ago! But I was younger then and it was New York City; and, there was a group of us who became close friends and Harlem was our home; it was dysfunctional then too, and it wasn’t easy, and so much wasn’t right even back then, but when you are young and in New York City it doesn’t matter that you don’t know much, and you keep going until you can’t. We all had our “can’t” moments and went onto do other things and came back to teaching one way or another. Something in us continues to hum that literacy, reading, writing, equity, are the only way forward, especially if you wish to create art, be it with words or images. Equity has become “one of those” words now, a word that no longer means what it once meant, a word that is divisive instead of a bridge to resolve differences, and sadly, a word that has lost its meaning. I hope to share more about that word next year. Not tomorrow.

And here we are, November doesn’t feel like “last month” and tomorrow doesn’t feel like a new year.

The above was shared by my friend Caroline Farrell who was recently awarded to become The Stowe Story Labs/ Galway Film Fleadh Marketplace fellow. It made me laugh out loud. But, December has been good, all things considered. And I can only hope it bodes well for 2023.

The community around Cedar Crest mountains has kept me going this second half of the year. I began in October by signing up for a printmaking workshop with Beth and continued with two more workshops in December. This is not the image of the space, but a coffee shop right across; the space is called Art Space East and is inside Tom and Jerry Plaza which is an antique wonderland itself. I feel so good when I am there.

Here are two photos from my printmaking workshop where I created holiday cards. I learned about relief printing as I carved an image (I drew it to the best of my ability) into an easy-cut rubber matrix. I love not knowing how things are going to turn out during this process. I love things not turning out okay and yet being able to do something with them anyway. And I am not just okay with this not-knowing, but I enjoy it. This is similar to how I experience travel. Being creative in another completely different medium, I have become more open to the unknown while writing, especially when revising and editing. I suppose during travel and printmaking I am truly immersed in the flow of Now. This has become more challenging to experience while writing because in the last few years I have transitioned to “revising” and “editing” instead of that initial draft or idea. This is to say that my relationship with writing has changed because I have grown as a writer.

This workshop wasn’t with Beth, but it was equally enjoyable. This involved using altered paper to create mixed media work. I liked it but I learned that I prefer creating my own things even if I can’t draw, compared to altering others’ art to create my own.

Then came winter break. This was probably the best holiday my family has had. We joined my family on Christmas Eve at my sister’s where we ate and watched movies and sat by the fire and laughed and got tired and got sleepy and ate some more. We were surrounded by warmth and joy. I felt very blessed and lucky. And then Christmas was at my parents’ farmhouse where my sister and her husband prepared an elaborate breakfast for everyone.

This image is of a very foggy day at my parents’ farmhouse in California. There are lots of changes ahead for my parents as they retire, downsize from the farmhouse land, and transition into a new phase of their lives.

I started and finished reading Winter People by Gráinne Murphy; I became interested in it thanks to Anne’s blog. You can read the interview here which led me to buy the book.

There was a lot of rain in California this winter. The above image is a reflection I saw in giant puddle while driving in farm country. I turned it upside down so it looks right-side up; here it’s no longer a reflection of something that’s upside down, but in fact holds its very own logical space.

I don’t have any resolutions, not for my writing, not for publishing, not for myself. I do have hope for more kindness for one another and for coming together to hold elected officials and corporations accountable.

And I want to check in with myself, every hour if need be, to remind myself that Now is all we have. That time called Now which I experience when traveling, when horseback riding, when printmaking, I wish to bring that Now to my writing and being and all that I do and am in 2023. What I don’t want is to wonder at the end of 2023, where did the year go? This is not about being intentional; I am very intentional. This is about creating space to reflect. I tell my students that’s how we capture learning forever. That’s how we “capture” time too. Especially when, as these posts have demonstrated, it was a year filled with lots of wonderful moments, despite the challenges.

Image shared via my brother from a 1971 book by Ram Dass called Be Here Now.
I haven’t actually read it.