I finished my first book of the year last night, a reread of Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Left Hand of Darkness. I read it again because a) I love it, b) I want to start working on the paper I wrote about it as a grad school writing sample, and c) I needed it. I won’t say too much here about how much I love Le Guin. (I do. A lot. More than I can describe actually.) Somehow I always find the wisdom that I need nestled in her words. So, on the first morning of the new year, I sat in the armchair in front of the window plagued by uncertainty and read the line, “But alas we must walk forward troubling the new snow, proving and disproving, asking and answering.” It grabbed me and didn’t let go.
On this rereading, the theme of wholeness stuck out to me more than anything else. I’ve been thinking about how important wholeness is to a life.
I’ve been in despair lately, existential and personal, overwhelmed by the seemingly systematic and insidious isolation of the parts of my self. After starting my full-time office job, I wasn’t reading or writing or even using my brain all that much. I started to feel like I was losing myself and like my life was both falling apart and running away without me. I went from exercising a lot because I was miserable to not at all for the same reason. I ate a lot fast food lunches and instant gratification snacks because I felt sad and lazy. My relationship was out of balance. Many of my friends had moved away. In a sense, all I had left in my life was me and I wasn’t up to the challenge.
One big takeaway from last year: No (wo)man is an island.
I’ve reset my course, though. I have some concrete plans to start studying and get in the mood for grad school. I have concrete plans to keep my brain from rotting inside my head during my 9-5 time. I’ve been listening to one Enya album at work each day, all day, and I can promise you that there isn’t a single one that doesn’t bring me joy. The X Files also, obviously, is a source of delight. I’ve been doing some stretching because my whole body is tensed up constantly and I don’t move. (Adulthood is bad, do not do it.) I’ve been cooking more again, and making bread, to put together meals that both feed me and feel good and make me excited about taking care of myself. I still roll out of bed at the last second every morning and have piles of clothes in the corners of my room but I finished my first book of the year and felt excited to pick out the second.
First takeaway of this year: All things work together. Maybe not for good, but for something.
Lindsey Grundyson 