I am sitting on a sofa in a house of a good friend, watching men from a moving company load things into boxes. Dusty memories from trips far away, pensive photos of relatives, hungry pots, playful lego blocks, books longing for a tender touch. Life enchanted in things. Proofs of our existence.

Efficient hands methodically arrange things in cardboard boxes, close a lid over them. End of a chapter.

I think about the year that has passed.
What is there to keep? What is obsolete? What is difficult to let go of?
What do I need? What makes me happy?
What do I keep out of fear? And what do I keep as a warning?

Like in a kaleidoscope, the months are spinning. Memories like jewels. Some have sharp edges, they hurt my hands. Other nest warmly into the palm of my hand.

I remember …
I remember … I whisper gazing at the colorful collage. A mosaic I call my life. There is a place for everything human in it. For laughter and for tears. For light and darkness. Joy and pain*.  A soft prayer over the passing year.

I find solace in this practice, not always comfortable, yet heartfelt. Sweet gratitudes and salty mournings.

I dance and I write.
I acknowledge and I say goodbye.
I make room for new…

And how do you bid farewell to this year? What will you remember? What will you leave behind?

* My spiritual sister beautifully writes about making a space for the dark here: https://www.facebook.com/lindsay.alderton/posts/10161150697840384

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