Smoke signals

About once a year, I participate in a book-burning.

Now before ya' get all up in arms, they're MY books. Not as in "I purchased these, therefore they belong to me". No, as in "I wrote these. They are notebooks, filled with my thoughts and feelings and therefore they are mine to do as I see fit."

Typically as I reach the end of a year, I allow myself a period of reflection (which can include thumbing through the pages to see where I've been and how I got to where I arrived) and then I drive to the coast and toss the book(s) into a fire. Especially during crab season, the beaches are often host to extended families and friends enjoying feasts around bonfires - and I'll walk up with a log or two and my books and ask if I can help stoke the fire. I've never been refused ... and have received a few awesome tastes of cioppino this way, too.

I filled my last 2008 book today. This year was a four-book year. Suffice to say, my head was busy.

If the contents of my notebooks were a weather forecast, 2008 started out with shadows and clouds, and then there was rain. The shower was followed by a perfect storm of sorts. Next came calm, and then a deep fog rolled in. This eventually was moved by a blustery bit of wind and, once that passed, the sun broke through on less destruction than I expected to see. There was new growth, previously untapped strength and resolve, stronger roots. I surprised myself. Pleasantly.

If 2008 was a reactionary year, then perhaps 2009 will be a discovery year.

"Boom de yadda" along with me, people.