2024 is ending
Which might not mean anything, but why not pause anyway?
This is the last day of the year and the first day of a new moon cycle — as much as I do primarily follow the moons and the wheel of the year, I also still love the old calendar year — and I don’t believe in new year’s resolutions myself, I love any chance to reflect — which is why new moons have always been such wonderful touch points for me (or maybe because I was born on one) — because something is always ending and beginning in the eternal now — and when we pause to reflect, we’re never worse off.
And so I’m writing in the airport again — feeling the immensity of the human experience mostly as a spectator, and then as a raw, beating heart in the thick of it — how miraculous is it that we’re here at all? I can't stop thinking that this year — and in a deep conversation with my best friend in the car parked outside her house this week, we marvelled at the awakening of consciousness into this matter, here, now — and you know when you feel a smile dying to break out in an exchange with a stranger — a little twinkle in their eye — it feels like we’re chattering away on the surface but underneath are in mutual recognition of the uncanny wonder of life itself.
My major reflection for this year has been on balancing the doing and non-doing, performing and percolating, acting and allowing — knowing what is mine to do, say or dream into reality
and knowing what’s beyond me
and it’s made me think upon the nature of our journeys back home to ourselves, and how there’s just no formula, no given timeline, no way of knowing when anyone will turn a corner
(but for in the quiet of our own soul’s dwelling does that gnosis reside)
and I remember two specific moments this year, very different in character, where I felt myself surrender, and I am not sure that I “did it”
(I somehow think that willing oneself to surrender is a kind of control in a different costume)
and I was reminded on both occasions of Parseltongue, and how it’s only invoked in the presence of a snake — and both times I thought, I couldn’t have willed this surrender — it was called forth from me
I’ve felt a lot of rage this year watching the acts of Isr@el, wondering, how can we let this happen
and watching the Irish election results and wondering how we let that happen
and musing on the Irish psyche and relationship to sexuality and thinking about the church and wondering how we let all that happen
and wondering what it means to be an activist
and always wishing that I had done more, or could do more, and yet
I also wonder when it will be enough to simply light up the lives of the ones who surround you — to bless the streets of your own town with integrity and presence — I wonder this in the context of this same question that the serenity prayer asks — what’s mine to change? What’s mine to accept? How do I know the difference?
and how can we know what is right for anyone but ourselves?
Perhaps this is the year of being good enough
And things were good — starting from good Friday, on my 33rd year, when I orchestrated my own initiation, semi-consciously — and everything has changed from that moment — my life BC, and AD —
I started the year recording my album, and finished the year mixing it, and in between that musical sandwich, I wrote my dissertation for my masters and graduated with honours we played our last gig as a band in the autumn, until we work on the next Tau album in 2025/6 I started my therapy business which is for now all online and is deeply fulfilling I co-created with some dear beloveds on retreats, events, temples — I traveled for music and fun, played my own music at some amazing festivals, and spent time doing the things that I love — I took lots of saunas, lots of baths, not nearly enough sea swims, enjoyed all the food and all the delights of the flesh without an ounce of guilt or shame — even a few shitty Netflix shows —
and I met someone whom I’d like to keep around for a long, long time and how I met this person was an interesting thing in itself — it was again in that balance between acting and trusting — I learned to own my desires, and to expect to be met in them, and understood that when in a state of pleasure and openness, what’s meant for me will come — and I have never before felt this way, but it’s all I’ve ever wanted.
And the word of the year according to the internet was “manifest”, but that’s a bit old hat for me —
I wouldn’t say I’ve manifested a damn thing; I’d say I’ve just got out of Life’s way.
In 2025, I'm looking forward starting to release music again, and potentially recording my second album, which I wrote at the Tyrone Guthrie Centre, full of a flu and isolated in my own musical wing of the manor — I’m hoping to get into the studio at the end of next year to make something beautiful — and to write, and write, and write — and this is my plan for the rest of my days — to make beautiful things , always, consistently — because I’m an artist first — all the rest is a calling to serve but if I wasn't in my creative fullness, I don't think I'd be of service to anyone.
Art, nature, blood & soul family — with these alone, I can survive.
If you’re called to work with me in 2025, have a look out for my offerings (I’ll announce some workshops in Jan).
For now:
INHABIT is a 6-week journey into soul, delivered online, for those who might be stuck in little or large addictive spirals. Starts Tuesday January 14th, and is €295. You’d be most welcome.
I also offer
1:1 Psychotherapy
Relationship Therapy
Relationship Rituals
1:1 Coaching
through my website https://anamtherapy.com
And whether you celebrate the new year now or not, I hope that if you’re called to reflection, it’ll be to big yourself up rather than berate yourself. Change happens, slowly, beautifully, at the pace of Earth herself.
