But not this year. This year I seem to want to do nothing, see nobody, hardly even talk on the phone when friends call to say Happy Another Year.

I know part of my mood is because I caught a bug Thanksgiving evening and feel crappy. But even before that, when Bob or my Mom asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday, I felt this odd, wonderful sense of wanting to be alone.

And so I have been. Bob even took the dogs. Lilly is with her Dad. Even my neighborhood is unusually quiet with lots of families away for the holiday. I wish I weren’t sick but it’s a dreamy sickness, not a horrible one, and it feels like a cloak I’ve drawn around me, an imposed but welcome retreat.

I’ve been reading and dreaming and thinking- about fear mostly - which sounds awful but actually has been most liberating. Making millions of notes about what I want to create this week to help us lean into and learn from and not be ruled by fear.

You know, fear is a big deal. It’s really a formative force in the world. How did I miss that little fact?

I’ve also been reviewing the last year, which I like to do on my birthday, as it comes near the end of the calendar year, and thus doubly feels like the beginning of my new year.  Here are some of what I learned / did / love about my 45th (really 46th) year:

• I fell in love with a wonderful man. Unabasedly. I played, I giggled, I shaved my legs a lot. I let myself love full out, grabbing the grace of love.
• I grieved mindfully, holding the tension of immense love and soft grief, often in the same breath.
• I grappled with a big deep sinkhole of neediness and spent some a lot of time at the edge of the sink hole just being there.
• I got acquainted with my victim side and how, with the help of fear, I had lost a lot some of my resiliency and momentum.
• Oh, yes, let me not forget fear. I realized I am, have been, and always will be, afraid. Of not creating truly and deeply enough. Of not relaxing and enjoying life and being present enough. Of not being smart enough. Of more loss. Of being a failure. Of not thinking clearly. Of all the misspellings in this blog. Of not loving strongly and honesty enough.
• And then I realized that is not bad, does not mean I’m permanently screwed or that anything is the matter.  That fear is not mine, it just visits and it can teach me but never rule me,
• I kept up a pretty darn regular breathing and prayer and yoga practice until I hurt my back this summer and then I kept up a pretty darn regular breathing and prayer practice and then a pretty darn regular Dance of Shiva practice.
• I got a heck of a lot better at trusting my instincts and acting on them faster. Instead of working with or employing the wrong people for months, this year it only took weeks to say, “Sorry, this isn’t working.”
• I began creating again, blogging, a little art journaling, and now recording audio experiences and making notes for this fear hope thing I’m calling Comfort During Uncertain Times.
• I began to see the wisdom of making a what-can-I-actually-produce-this-year plan and a how-will-I-reliably-and-effectively-get-the-word-out-plan instead of the willy nilly do a little of this and not enough of that plan non-plan like I have done for the last few years.
• I owned the fact I want to create something about transitions and change and decided to create a) a Comfort Learning Cafe Playground for those who want to join me monthly b) then a book and ) a performance / workshop. And I’m very afraid I can’t do any of this. And that’s okay.
• I got to see how speediness has helped me override fear most of my life and that slowing down to grieve made it so speediness could not work so well anymore and that explains a lot. (At least, I think it does.)
• I learned (with that great guy I fell in love with) about birding and how amazing a way it is to see.
• I lead groovy retreats and coached awesome clients (including the best writing groups!) and delivered inspiring keynotes. I planned my first international retreat for the coming year

AND MOST OF ALL

I experienced that when I gently allow myself to stop where I am and lovingly notice what I am feeling and experiencing and thinking without letting it define me or own me nor without fighting or denying or getting all dramatic about whatever is going on, I experience that I am safe, I am capable and gosh darn-it, I like me.

So Happy Birthday to me. I can sure be one super-earnest do-gooder learn all the time girl and so my invitation to myself for 2009 is lighten up while getting some friggin work done!  Here’s to light resiliency. (Not to be confused with light armour).

Thanks for reading.