Happy New Year

Coming in the dark. In the middle of the night. At twelve bells, all tolling the blackest moment of the day, the new year drops on us.

And dredging up all our bravado we face our fears of the unknown with lights and shouts and Dutch courage, hoping to drive off whatever might be hovering near.

I believe our imagination was born at night. Perhaps right on this night, the eve of the new year. Born to help us through the unconquerable, the unknowable, the unbelievable. If we create it first it belongs to us and like a pet Rottweiler we trust it not to turn on us.

Refusing to yield to superstitions and dark thoughts we have turned the tables, calling it a celebration.

A time for rebirth, but something already here cannot be born again. Not really.

We need resolutions to make it harder on us so that our puritanical upbringing is not damaged beyond repair and then, when we break those resolutions?  We suffer through the joy of not depriving ourselves of what we promised to do with out.

I sometimes wonder if we were created out of the light, or the dark. Did we too enter this world in the light of the moon and the stars?

It really doesn't matter anymore. With electricity there is no necessity for difference -- only a commitment, an understanding of our own conscience and being true to ourselves.

Are we accountable or blameworthy?