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Is it goodbye?

New years bring new blessings and an impatience for things that don’t quite “work”. My writing practice is flourishing for the first time in years. Most of it doesn’t make its way here. Obligations to work, school, and family make it difficult for me to make this blog a blog and not just a sort of dead-zone website. I would rather devote my creative energies to a more static and pukka site if I am unable to contribute regularly to an actual blog. Still – the impulse to communicate, reach out, and express is very powerful, and I worry that I will miss the outlet. I’ve been leaning towards discontinuing A Good Traveler for a while, so that I can direct the energies into something that holds space for the evolving meaning of what I do here.

We’ll see what the future holds!

Sankranthi Subhakankshalu! Happy Pongal!

A clear new year

Today my morning pages reflected on New Year’s Eve, and the sort of societal and psychological trappings that come along with streamers, glitter, booze, and noisemakers. NYE often carries with it such a strange brew of hype, regret, nostalgia, hope, and indigestion. In the distant past my NYE used to be laden with beginnings and endings and it was a little messy. (Anecdotally, I know it’s not the best night for those who have untended goblins lurking in their psyche. The fallout to those around you can get a little nasty too, so don’t be selfish in any misguided quest for liberation!). It’s the ultimate night of “I should have been” or “I have to do”. It’s weighty! It’s almost like the entire world is having a high school reunion in a 24 hour period. Thanks but no thanks! American culture is kind of conditioned to have this one night of excess and atone for it the rest of January. Those who resist (like myself) have a different experience that is not reflected in the culture at large.

In honor of a more gentle and moderate way to ring in the new year, I have turned my experience around and made my NYE individual, quiet, intimate, and sane. The last couple days have been very internal, a gathering of energy and conscious planning. I have processed 2009. I strive to live consciously each day, so the new year doesn’t feel like an avalanche. Still, I came across some bumpy, gnarled places in my life. I consciously and gently addressed them. A crowded room, while drunk, is not usually the most gracious place to bump into your deeper self. Especially if it’s cranky from neglect!

Here is what I wish someone had told me when I began this decade began 10 years ago: “You have a lifetime to be who you want to be, and a good time to start is now. Even so, don’t pressure yourself to make this one night the symbol of a year or a life. Don’t give in to the temptation to sort out a whole year and a whole decade tonight while bloated on mini-quiches and cosmos. It’s just one night. Give yourself the gift of mindful and honest reflection. And don’t be scared of what you find.”

Coming into 2010, I feel clear and prepared and inherently ready. I’m grateful I had the opportunity for deeply satisfying and productive reflection. The last decade has been good to me. I’ve been good to myself and will continue to be present for myself, through thick and thin.

For tonight, have fun, laugh, and be gentle with yourself.

To the brim

Some say no to life,
others say no to love.
I want my answer to be yes – always, yes.
I will keep at it
Until the edges of my heart
are worn smooth and warm
until I am
Mellowed, rounded out
Like a wooden bowl
Filled to the brim
with the suchness of life.

© Elizabeth Borghi

My Buttons

One day,
I will assemble all my
Buttons in one place.

After that,
Nothing will ever
Get lost
Permanently stained
Broken
Torn, shattered
Require scouring
or need mending
Again.

And the forehead lines
Which have appeared
Since who-knows-when
Will disappear,
Made immaculate
As a freshly laundered sheet.

© Elizabeth Borghi

One of my biggest struggles in life is with imperfection. It’s really hard to be kind to yourself or others when anything imperfect (ie – life) happens, or when you are constantly exerting energy into maintaining the perfection of things. Decay, lost things, and brokenness are tender and inherent aspects of life. This poem is about how we sometimes fool ourselves into thinking that if the surface life is orderly and perfect (frankly, an impossible task!), time and aging and mortality can also be kept at bay.

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