Last year I was writing about how I needed a one word for the year, and how I stood resolute with my resolutions.

All in perfect ignorance of what was in front of me.

What a year.

This year, well, there are no words. And I don’t know if I am standing resolute or not.

Sometimes, I am barely standing.

And, I wonder what is in store for me this year. This time. And if I can handle it.

And sometimes I wonder if I am failing at…well…everything?

I know I’m not, but sometimes those thoughts seep into my spirit and leave a bad taste in my mouth–like Florida tap water.

And I feel like I am spiraling into the Abyss of Loserdom. Or something. I don’t know. Am I the only one that feels this way? Maybe I am.

Like, I think to myself,

“Shouldn’t I have resolutions? I wrote last year that I loved them. Do I still love them? If I don’t still love them, does that mean I have digressed to a lower level of spirituality? I mean, am I a total hypocrite or what?”

And, finally, “What if I am doing it all wrong?”

What kind of new year is this? This new year doesn’t feel like me, but what does that even mean? Maybe it is like me now? Maybe I am a new me or something?  I don’t know.

Still a conquer or die dragon fighting kind of girl?

Still a conquer or die dragon fighting kind of girl?

Am I still the girl who wants to fight dragons? Conquer or die? Is that me or have I changed?

It’s scary, being here in a place I’ve never been. I guess I am not so resolute because I feel like I am in uncharted territory. I feel like I am shipwrecked where “there be dragons” without a compass or a plan, and I am not quite sure what to do next.

the_shipwreck

Shipwrecked.

How does a person make goals on a deserted island surrounded by insurmountable, inhospitable-ness? Maybe that’s why I feel a sense of dreadful trepidation.

Trepidation is not in my personality, and yet here I am. Trepidatious.

I mean, sure, there are goals when you are shipwrecked. Survive. Don’t do anything stupid. Sleep. Forage.

(Is it completely mediocre of me to admit that those actually come pretty close to my goals at this point?)

So, who am I, anyway? Is this really me? Lying here wondering if there are any grand resolutions hiding behind a rock somewhere? Or buried in the sand like some forgotten treasure? Do I want to risk trying to unearth them? And what good would it be to find them, anyway, if I am shipwrecked? Is it worthless? Is it vain to even attempt?

I am stammering in my head–trying to cobble something together and I just don’t  know if it’s even in me.

Well, of course it is, but it’s hard to find it. The resolution. The standing…it’s hard.

So–here I am. Somewhat trembling and a little resolute.

Because it’s hard when things are hard. Good hard, bad hard. Still hard. And mine is all good hard. And I am not worried about the hardness. Or the trials or any of that. I am worried that I am becoming battle worn and war weary.

I am worried that I am some hardened old soldier who has decided to go live in a cave to find solitude after getting burnt out on fighting dragons.

Is This The New Me?

Is This The New Me?

But, in the stories, someone always has to go find the old dragon fighter and ask him to re-enlist in the fight against evil.

You know, out of his passion for what he believes to be Right and Good.

And the grizzled old fighter comes out again for the greater good.

Of course, then he usually dies at some pivotal point in the story as a plot device to get the main character to quit saying “Why me?” and man up.

So, maybe that wasn’t the right analogy.

I guess I don’t want to live in a cave, anyway.

Sometimes I do, but most of the time, I have a crush on people in general. I think they are wonderful overall and I love them. Most of them.

And I guess sometimes it could be considered a grand resolution to simply say that I will survive.

Endure it well.

That I will stand.

Resolute.

Resolute.

And maybe, after all of this, I need to feel the peace that comes with the sureness of knowing that, no matter what it feels like–the whispering of “failure” and “not enough” and “you can’t,” that standing is a grand, glorious, intensely profound resolution.

To endure it well is pretty spectacular.

And maybe, I am becoming more like the lighthouse at the edge of the dark, daring to stand firm and resolute on the fringes of comfort and normal and safe because I can see, out in the storm, people who are where I have been–and I want to reach out and shine a light and stand.

Conference Is My Lower Light

At The Edge of Safe.

Not to be a “good example.” Heaven knows I am not always that.

Not to be anything, really, except–enduring. Constant.

Because I want to Be There when they land on shore. I want to be there and tell them that to stand, it’s enough.

That even though they feel like they may have somehow failed as they look down at their disheveled, battered, worn selves–that this is what makes them…grand.

Magnificent. Divine.

That the war weariness and the scars and the rips and bruises and roughness is what has polished them and made them diamonds.

And, in a way, maybe seeing them will remind me of the divine in myself.

So, I will stand.

Resolute.

And that is what I will do.

No lists. No “goals.” No intricately detailed plan.

I will stand.

Here’s to another year of fighting dragons.