Mon, 02 Jan 2012 18:03:56 -0800
That it was close to 70 degrees and gloriously sunny on New Year's Day in San Francisco helped. That my house, though strewn with dirty champagne flutes, expired Old Fashioneds, and remnants of munchies, was full of friends when I woke up (both those who had intended to crash, and those too drunk to make it back across the bridge) did too. My new gold leggings shone gleefully in the afternoon sunlight, and yesterday on the walk down 18th Street to brunch, my misanthropy index (Emily's term) was at zero.
I love New Year's: Both eve and day are equally affirming for me, the former an intentional homecoming and celebration of things I've chosen; the latter a fresh, unencumbered start. Yoga on Penultimate Day and the 31st stretched hamstrings and heartstrings both (somehow urdhva dhanurasana will do that to you); later, mere hours before 2012, I achieved closure on my recent palpitations with a frank discussion sitting (aptly) beneath my closet's chandelier; thus disburdened, I could focus wholeheartedly on my party and my friends. And the homecoming this year was both sweetened and deepened by my new permanence: Usually, when my late-December flight from the Midwest touches down at SFO and I relax into the back seat of a cab, watching the city lights reflected in the bay as we speed up 101, part of my thoughts go to the evanescence of this Californian fairyland; arriving from Madison (from Chicago (from Berlin)) last Thursday, those thoughts were answered by the surging remembrance that I now own a house, and, the city so reified, I may stay. Funny how paying property taxes affects the soul.
Nothing feels urgent today, or yesterday. I love the liminal space we afford ourselves at the end and beginning of each year. Work and its monotonically increasing to-do list begin again tomorrow; the Symphony Chorus starts its Debussy madness tonight; I'll barely have a free evening for two weeks. But for just a few days (after the few weeks of Berlin-then-family), to lift out of the n dimensions of one's life and view it from the n+1st, to do nothing but breathe in yoga and celebrate one's home and friends, and to dance through the Mission in brilliant gold leggings for coffee, pumpkin beignets, and Bloody Marys with those you love: What a gift!