Usually I write something as one year ends or the next begins. The feeling of completing the calendar or turning a new page has always felt like an important new beginning. A clean slate waiting for newness to unfold. But this year is hard. I really struggled (like so many of my friends) to get through the festive season. We all feel burnt out and exhausted. We have endured 2 years where days bled into each other but months somehow flew by. We all feel like we've had two non-years.
I'm quite a ridiculously festive person. Fairy lights seem magical and the sparkle of tinsel brings a smile to my face. It's not about presents, or heaven forbid, anything religious. I simply like the idea that we focus on people we love and decorate everything. But as the end of 2021 approached I didn't even have the energy to get our christmas tree out. Luckily I have a tiny tree from our days of living in a tiny flat. This was as much christmas spirit as I could muster.
Even juggling our families has become more complicated. My Mum and Peter's Dad live at opposite ends of the state, so we're unable to fit everyone in on one crazy day. We have to juggle travel and the availability of my brothers, sister in law and their children...some who are now old enough to have jobs. It always feels like a giant game of Jenga, with availability teetering on one date closest to christmas. It was impossible to catch up with everyone this year, so parts of my family caught up on different days. And to throw some additional stress on top, I got a text from the DHHS to say I'd been in contact with a positive COVID case. I received this just after seeing members of my family and days before heading off to see Peter's Dad. Luckily after a couple of days in isolation waiting for test results I got the all clear. But I feared everyone's christmas would be impacted because a friend and I went for gelati after work that turned out to be hot spot. But I count myself lucky. I know people who got their text message on Christmas eve, throwing all christmas plans out the window.
And this is where we find ourselves. Daily numbers of the omicron varient going up, everyone scrambling for Rapid Antigen Tests for home, and thinking long and hard about whether to go outside ever again. After returning home from Christmas in regional Victoria (which included a lovely catch up with friends we haven't seen in years, who had waited out their own covid test results!), we collapsed in a heap. It was just nice to stop. Everything. Anything. Just have a moment where there was no responsibility or expectations. Just being. Mostly in pyjamas on the couch.
We masked up and went to the movies, I went to the pub with a friend (it was quiet and we had a room of our own away from everyone else), we went to collect records we'd ordered before christmas and went to the gallery (also incredibly quiet). I guess people were either away on holiday or staying home. As the temperature soared we contemplated New Years. I have this notion that you need to exercise the demons of the previous year and embrace the turning page to a new year, putting a stop to any awfulness from the year prior. Champagne and sparklers also help this process. We had a quiet night in planned, listening to music, drinking cocktails and watching a movie before the big moment. But boy oh boy did we make a poor decision. I suggested watching the satyrical movie Don't Look Up. Talk about a nihilistic NYE. It is a biting commentary on scientists being ignored about the end of the world. The comet plummenting towards earth a metaphor for climate change. Spoiler alert: no one listens and the world ends. Humans were too wrapped up in commerce and politics and click bait to do anything to save ourselves. The movie ended mere minutes from midnight. Perhaps another metaphor. We sat on the couch, empty husks as the fire works began exploding. I ran outside, looking skywards, looking for sparkles. Surrounded by the loud bangs and the night sky, I realised our laneway neighbour was having a party. As the new year began the familiar tune of 'This must be the place' by Talking Heads rang out into the empty street.
Pick me up and turn me round
I feel numb, burn with a weak heart
I guess I must be having fun
The less we say about it the better
Make it up as we go along
Feet on the ground
Head in the sky
It's ok I know nothing's wrong... nothing
What a rollercoaster my emotions were having. The feeling of desolation stayed with us both into the first day of the year. It's hard to shake the reality of a pandemic and climate change and 'leaders' who are crap at dealing with both. Late in the afternoon, Peter looked through the 'watch list' on our streaming channels. We chose a show a friend from work had recommended months ago but we kept forgetting about - Taskmaster. It's a UK comedy show where comedians must complete tasks and they are given points. It's both sublime and ridiculous. We binged episode after episode with tears rolling down our cheeks from laughing. It was the antidote to heavy weight carried from the night before.
On the 2nd we had tickets to go see the Linda MacCartney retrospective at the Ballarat foto biennale. While getting ready, I scrolled through Instagram. The George Harrison account posted a song for the new year - Ding Dong.
Ring out the old
Ring in the new
Ring out the false
Ring in the true
The film clip is silly and joy-filled. We've been in a Beatles headspace after watching Get Back. It took me back to my late teens/early twenties when I was obsessed with all things Beatles. Was this song another sign? The exhibition was great and transported us mentally to a different place. I've decided that art (and music, movies and theatre) is the best kind of mindfulness for me. And I had George's ear-worm with me all day too.
Looking back, perhaps the nihilistic new years eve was the perfect end to the non-years. But I need to remember to look after myself as the roller coaster ride hasn't ended. I'm naively hopeful that being able to find joy, beauty and meaning in the face of the darkness is a good omen. That even as I sit here, tired, on the eve of going back to work for another year, the page has turned. I begin again. Wishing that we'll get through 2022 ok...with ear worms, laughter, friendships and hope.
Lucky Spot in Daisy Field. Sussex. 1985 by Linda MacCartney
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