Did You Ever Go Clear?

It’s ten in the morning, the end of December. I’m writing you now to see if you’re better. Vermont is cold but I like where I’m living. There’s silence on Howard Street all through the evening.

It’s New Year’s Eve morning; I’m listening to Leonard Cohen through the computer. The sky outside is a gray tinged with purple. The color depresses many but comforts me. Several strata of crystallized water – powder, cake, ice – cover the Earth.

You’re living for nothing now. I hope you’re keeping some kind of record.

The Cohen was inspired by memories of 2009. On January 7th of the passing year, a friend died. He was a writer, a political junkie and a Leonard Cohen fan. He hated the Bush era. When he died, I was sad he missed surviving it by so little.

Much has been written this week about the year and decade now behind us. I don’t want to add to it. I doubt you want me to, either.

When I was young, I would look back over the course of a year and think about how much I’d learned. Later, I’d take solace knowing I was not as big a jerk on this new year’s as I’d been the year before. Now I’m middle aged. I’m not sure I learn as much in a year as I used to and the jerk factor has – for good or ill – leveled off.

Over tea this morning, Adrienne said, “Twenty-ten is going to be whatever it’s going to be.” Odd as that statement sounds, she’s exactly right. Perhaps that’s the lesson of 2009. So much was said and still left unsaid, so much done and still left undone.

The year is gone and my life’s half gone (if I’m lucky). I’m a year older and I don’t know if I’m any closer to finding the meaning of life. Here’s what I think it is today: The meaning of life is all around me, it falls in my path a dozen times a day. The key is actually not to find the meaning of life, but to make myself ready to find it, to recognize it when I see it.

Once I’m ready for it, I’ll see I already have it.

Happy New Year.

© Mark Floegel, 2009

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