On the last day of each year, I put together my personal best and worst lists. In every other year, these have been Top 10 lists. For 2020, both my lists go to 11.
My son Aaron, my husband Michael, my Coping and Healing on-line therapy groups, blogging, my friends, the movie La Fée, surviving COVID, the Biden/Harris victory, walks by the ocean, and cats are on my 2020 best list.
Many deaths are on my 2020 worst list, including the COVID-caused death of a beloved patient, the death of my dear friend Eleanor, the death of my “heart brother” David (a wonderful man who had the same rare heart condition as me), and the death of our amazing kitty Oscar. Powerful and destructive narcissists (who shall remain nameless) are on my worst list, too.
Do you see any evidence of the Best and Worst of 2020 in today’s images?
2020 might be my best New Year’s Eve ever because tonight I’m facilitating a special NYE’s version of my Coping and Healing group!
Here’s my most-listened-to tune for 2020 (no matter what Spotify says!).
If you share some personal 2020 bests and/or worsts in the comments section below, that would be the best.
A happier 2021 and I personally thank you for making it through 2020!
Sometimes you see a card that perfectly captures your experience.
Sometimes you listen to the same damn song over and over again to comfort yourself, like when you’re driving to say goodbye to an old friend.
by Jacob Collier
Everybody, near and far
Come together as you are
To the ocean, to the sky
Sing that cosmic lullaby
Sing the hajanga
Sing your pleasure sing your pain
Like you’ll never sing again
Let it echo, loud and clear
Across the ancient stratosphere
Even when the sun refuse to shine
There’s a song of love that never dies
Even when the good days pass you by
Lift your voices to the sky singin’
As the words go round and round
Let the tears roll down and down
Sing the way you wish to be
Let that singing set you free
Even when those dark clouds bring you down
There’s a spark of joy that can be found
Even when things break and fall apart
Lift your hands up from your heart, singing
Said every morning
Through the darkness
To the light
Like a beacon
Sing the hajanga you’ll be alright
From the winter
Comes the spring
It don’t matter
What life will bring
You can do most anything
So give your hajanga
A song to sing
So tell your mama
Tell your pa
Sing it near and sing it far
Be exactly the way you are
See the hajanga
It’s your guiding star
To every woman
To every man
In every nation
In every land
I said please you’ve gotta understand
Now sing the hajanga
And take my hand, sing it!
Then one day your life is through
Nothing more that you can do
So give away the things you know
And tell your friends you love them so
Tell them hajanga
I let the tears roll down and down, yesterday, as I told Tony‘s friends and family that I loved him so.
Sometimes life sucks and we CAN do a damn thing about it, like telling people we love them so.
Here are all my other damn photos from yesterday:
Sometimes life sucks and we can feel and express gratitude for what we still have, like this blog and YOU.
Hopelessness showed up in a therapy group yesterday. Today, it shows up for the first time in this blog.
I hope you can see that hope showed up there, as well. Often, when I write topics on the white board during my therapy groups, I tell people that the opposites of the topics are also present. I hope that leaves room for all the reactions, thoughts, and feelings in the room.
Do you see hopelessness and/or hope in my other photos from yesterday?
What do you do with hopelessness? I try to accept hopelessness AND to leave room for whatever hope exists, no matter how small that hope might be.
Four years ago (but who’s counting?), I wrote a blog post — Day 597: Brilliant — about how people in Edinburgh responded “Brilliant” to many things I said to them. (If you could visit that old post, that would be brilliant.)
In 2018, when I was back in Edinburgh for our usual August visit, people rarely told me I was brilliant. That didn’t damage my ego, however, because instead of “Brilliant,” I often heard “Perfect” in response to things I would do or say.
Actually, to be more perfect about that, I often heard this: “Perrrrrfect.”
Last week in Edinburgh, when I handed my ticket to a Festival Fringe employee and he said, “Perfect,” I commented to him how I’d noticed that “Perfect” was the new “Brilliant.” He laughed and replied, “Six years ago, it was ….” but I am neither brilliant nor perfect enough to remember the last word in his sentence.
Personally, I think it’s brilliant and perfect to be kind and complimentary to visitors. I wish I could witness more brilliant, perfect, and civil discourse in my own country, here and now.
Are any of my photos from yesterday brilliant or perfect?
I may not be brilliant or perfect, but I have fixed my photo-loading problems on WordPress, FOR NOW.
Here‘s what comes up on YouTube when I search for “brilliant or perfect.”
Believe it or not, that is one of THREE different videos on YouTube titled “Brilliant Tips on How to Select the Perfect Watermelon.” Unfortunately, I don’t see any videos on YouTube about how to be brilliant and perfect about anything else, so I’ll just share this brilliant tune from Jacob Collier, which made me perfectly happy when I heard it yesterday.
I will not pressure you to post brilliant, perfect, witty or thought-provoking comments today. I will do my best to express brilliant or perfect thanks to all who helped me create today’s post and — of course! — to YOU.