In the brief moments I've had in the past few weeks to meditate on the past year, I've seriously questioned whether I actually have. Have I actually blossomed? I have I really accomplished all I could have?
But - being a fan of analogies as I am - I thought some more. The blossom isn't the culmination. The blossom isn't the great finish. The blossom is merely the step necessary before fruition. Apples and pears and oranges and peppers. Fruit for eating. Seeds for propagation. New plants. New life. The blossom is only part of the journey, not the destination.
And what have I done with this past trip around the sun? I sought out healing for myself, realizing that the honouring of myself could no longer be avoided. I changed my diet to find wholeness. We moved house, ridding ourself of the stress and anxiety that our previously mouldy, perpetually moisture-ridden home was bringing us, and instead embraced a little more quiet, a little more green, a little more space. We embraced home education, introducing a Waldorf perspective to our home, our family, our life. And I embarked on new endeavours, taking on clients and holding space with them as they walk into new stages of life.
I'm actually pretty proud of my year. It was rough at times, without question, but I have ended 2012 far, far more positively than I ended 2011. I've ended it in a very different place, both literally and figuratively, and while I'm a little surprised at the path the past year's journey has taken I am pleased with where I am. I feel grounded, like I know where I stand, like I have a sense of where I'm going. Even the big question marks hanging about seem more like gentle curves in the road rather than perilous blind corners. And I'm comfortable with that because life is unexpected: I certainly wouldn't want it to be boring.