A Wish for 2023

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A dandelion blowing in the wind

We’ve made it to 2023.

This part of the year—the very beginning—is when I start to envision the year to come—my dreams for it, but also my honest needs for it. 

We never really know what to expect looking forward, and 2023 is no different. We can’t predict headlines, or expect to know what the year holds; we all learned that lesson in 2020, and in the wise words of my seventy-year-old dad, "people keep waiting for 'covid to be over'. But even when or if it is, there will be something else." I know there will be challenges. There will be devastating news headlines. That's a given. And, there will be wins big and small, happy moments, and opportunities for growth. 

Reflecting on this past year—and this time exactly a year ago—there was so much I didn't foresee. I had no idea we'd adopt a cat, or that having a pet would be a good choice for us. I didn’t anticipate obsessively reading over fifty books this year, or that I would participate (and actually enjoy) in a silent retreat for the first time ever. Beet & Yarrow got a flower order for LIZZO and ELTON JOHN’S dressing rooms, a total dream order for us. To my delight, my sweet pea continued to bloom the entirety of the hot summer, when it’s historically been an early spring and fall bloomer. I love this about life—and sometimes struggle to make goals—because life itself is often so much more interesting and unexpected than I'm able to possibly imagine or plan for. 

I do like to choose a word for the coming year. Last year, my word was "germinate." To me, it meant pushing through the hard soil surface into my growth areas. Most of these growth points were related to having direct conversations, and addressing conflicts and tension in relationships. I needed to get braver in these moments, but I felt fragile knowing I needed to grow, and that I would need a lot of nurturing (and water) to survive. If you've spent any time growing plants from seed, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Once a day watering might not nearly be enough. Thankfully, I got to practice these skills almost daily at the beginning of the year (it felt like boot camp), and had to figure out ways to care for my growing pains. All in all, 2022 has been a gift, and I'm grateful to have lived, and grown immensely, through it. 

2023 will be my last year of being in my 30s. I keep hearing that the 40s are the best—and I think I liked my 30s better than my 20s, so I'm looking forward to the next decade. My wish, or my word, for 2023 is "nurture". I've built a lot this decade, and I feel drawn to watering and enjoying 'my garden' for a moment. The ornamental grasses in my yard are huge now, and embodiment of this word and hope. I don't need to do a big landscape overhaul. The roots are finally established. I get to enjoy it now, and keep watering. My daughters aren't babies anymore, my house doesn't need serious renovation, Beet & Yarrow is over ten years old, and it's time to simply fuel, nurture, and enjoy. And when hardships and challenges come again—as we can always count on—I will ask myself how I can nurture: my artist-self, my body, my skin, my team, my children, my marriage. 

Sending nurturing thoughts your way for the new year.