How To Start A New Year

When it feels like the world is on fire

Having a birthday in early January means the new year aligns with another personal revolution around the sun. We Capricorns are notoriously goal-oriented list makers, so this is always a potent time for me to make a vision board and/or commit to new goals.

This year feels different.

In early January, we passed the one-year anniversary of the Eaton Fire, which is a powerful reminder of the fragility of life as we know it. Anything (and everything) can change at any time. Last year, I had no stomach for my birthday (3 days after the fires), and this year I have no stomach for a vision board. When it feels -sometimes- as if the whole world is burning because the president just kidnapped a sitting president and has turned a government agency into his own private militia that can apparently murder protestors without any accountability or investigation, making a vision board for myself seems borderline silly.

Instead of setting goals, I decided to cut something out and remove alcohol from my diet for the year. I may fail, and that’s fine. But knowing myself as well as I do at this point in life, I’m pretty sure I’ll make it.

The first test was New Year’s Day. I’d had three martinis on New Year’s Eve and enjoyed each one fully and completely. I was very lucky to be invited to a beautiful celebration on the water with wonderful friends and a lot of delicious food, which made those martinis all the more perfect. And it was certainly tempting the next day to imbibe a little more with my friends, but instead, I drank water.

And then I did something very supportive for myself.

I had planned to revisit a little waterfall I used to know, long ago. I was curious if it was still there, or if the park was still open, or if I would remember where it was. But I did, and it was just the same as I remembered, but much bigger than I’d ever seen because of all the rain we’ve had here in SoCal this winter. Standing by all that water hitting rock so forcefully, I could barely think, which allowed for one small, clear thought to break through: I would let water be my medicine this year. I’d already had an icy swim in the ocean on New Year’s Day, and I committed to a year of appreciating water by drinking more of it, playing in it, swimming in it, and even praying over it to help me move past my deep but somewhat toxic friendship with alcohol.

Water is not something we take for granted in Southern California, but in the effort to conserve, I can sometimes neglect it. I’m especially excited to get wet more often and jump into cold water when I can. Even just a cold shower can change my whole morning.

I had a full month of celebrating my birthday. I guess I was making up for last year, but I’ve always loved drawing out my birthday. My favorite thing to do on the actual day is a giant hike, and I was able to do that this year with my dear friend Tanya, who took this picture of me.

I’ve made a wonderful group of friends at school. We study and eat lunch together, and sometimes even sit in a circle and check in with each other. We hiked together during the winter break. But we never drink together, and it’s been refreshing to remember that drinking, though it’s been a steady habit for many years, is not a defining part of me.

My friends at school threw me a little birthday party with a cake and everything. It was such a great way to start this new year, feeling fresh and new and full of possibility.