What We Are Looking Forward to in 2019

For the second year in a row I asked some people I know to share their hopes and dreams for the new year. Here are some of their responses. Perhaps you will feel inspired to ask yourself the question: what are YOU looking forward to in 2019?

doing the First Day hike on January 1; baking scones; working on creative projects every single day; hearing the first robin in my yard; getting better at hawk identification; riding my bike at least once every month of 2019; learning to weave; remembering morning meditation every day walking through the Cornell campus during quiet break times; organizing my art and sewing supplies; lighting candles more often; sitting outdoors in the moonlight; enjoying the freedom of not needing to wear a coat or to carry a bag, just leaving the house and walking; keeping a nature journal; looking for butterflies; blowing bubbles; creating things at Art Hive events; attending outdoor concerts; dancing more often; seeing the first summer fireflies; reading poetry; learning to recognize more constellations; remembering the importance of kindness

seeing two of our daughters graduate; learning new things in basketball; learning the song “Si jamais j'oublie" (if I ever forget) and singing it with our youngest daughter; dancing at the GrassRoots Festival of Music and Dance in July; going to the Dances of Universal Peace weekend; walking, and walking some more; camping in Hector Forest; reading poetry, lots of poetry; kayaking on the lake when it's really smooth and quiet; working a little less; learning how to submit a poem for publication; going on a (possible) a trip to Nepal; dealing with my fear of heights if I do go to Nepal; dealing with some other fears while I’m at it; telling at least ten people at work that I love them; singing with friends from my high school days; making a bonfire and singing into the night until it's later than I imagined; holding hands with my sweetie and talking and laughing together

going sailing again, and hearing waves whisper past the hull; lots of reading: Julian of Norwich’s meditations, and Theresa of Avila’s too, as well as Emerson’s essays; getting my easel out and painting my dreams again; I believe that my one and only kidney will start functioning properly this year; I intend to write and write and write … poetry of course

learning how to make puff pastry, and incorporating it into 3 out of every 7 meals I cook

bumping along the highway of life in the stagecoach of time, sometimes grateful for a destination, sometimes longing to just get off and lie in a field, gaze up at the sky, listen to the horses snort and paw the dirt, grateful too

hearing new sounds; following a different routine; traveling further and discovering more; sitting in silence; cleaning out my closet; using my new day-planner; grabbing ahold of positivity and saying farewell to negativity; staring across the table at someone I could fall in love with; getting a new pair of glasses; getting a new tattoo, an ode to women's rage; reading books by bell hooks; using social media less; going on a real vacation; writing and sending more letters; creating boundaries and sticking to them; singing ABBA's classic hit "Mamma Mia" at karaoke and not caring that I can't actually sing; running two miles on the treadmill, running one mile outside; sharing what makes me happy with people who make me happy

going on a writing retreat with my friend Lilace; experiencing the next snow and the next and the next; organizing my study and then writing in it; trying a new recipe or two; seeing my son Matt who is back from the Philippines; meeting my daughter-in-law from the Philippines; teaching Tai Chi; seeing “Brigadoon” in Niagara-on-the Lake; getting to know a new writer friend; going on adventures; writing some Saturday with Zee and others; reading Michelle Obama's “Becoming”

visiting my dear friend in Kansas; knitting up that mountain of yarn that now sits in the corner; seeing my oldest grandchild settled and happy; no longer having to see that huge dead willow tree by our stream; getting a chance to write with a group again; reading to the Pre-K class where my youngest great-grandson will be a student; participating with others who are exploring the history of their roots; reorganizing the huge pile of books I'm planning to read

a handsome man with oodles of money (an esteemed publisher!) will fall insanely in love with me; there will be mounds of friends knocking my door down, with invitations galore

opening nine more boxes (out of ten) — my mother's things — she left us three years ago and I am still finding treasures in the first box, but it is so hard to look; visiting England, a country I have never been to, and then going on to see friends who live in a thatched cottage in Nordfriesland; having an 18 course dinner party to celebrate the publication of my book of 18 poems; more writing, yoga, walking, museums, gardens, tai chi, music, dancing, singing, and smiling; creating an atmosphere of as much peace as possible, with quiet moments and new perspectives

laughing with my brother; picking fresh blueberries; floating down a river; writing with friends; being part of a play reading; giving and receiving hugs; making funny faces with my dog; dancing in the kitchen; breathing in some joy; reading some good novels; swimming in the lake

visiting a Colombian beach I haven’t seen in 45 years; figuring out how to use my new watercolor pen, which requires deciphering the instructions which are written in the form of Chinese characters; writing and recording two new songs; finding just the right botanical name for my friend’s grand-daughter; enjoying at least six months without a single medical appointment; reviewing my archives to salvage three good stories from my life; writing countless 700-word stories with my pen-pal in Florida; digitizing and publishing our family cookbook with my grandmother’s dessert recipes; calling my best friend every day just to check in and appreciate her; teaching my grandson to write haiku in Spanish

stretching my body and my mind; locating the still point, again and again; staying active: walks on the beach, walks on the road, walks in the woods, keeping my body moving; reading non-fiction; doing volunteer work at an animal rescue shelter someplace in the tropics; cooking large group dinners for friends and family; worrying less; if not easy times then at least easy laughter

keeping on writing; seeing the crocus and snowdrops come up; no deer eating my garden, especially not the tomatoes; lightening up; seeing Indiana University Women's Basketball team continuing to do well; hoping that our independent bookstore will stay open; more cloudless nights, so I can see the moon enjoying another poetry series on PBS; experiencing a good night's sleep; keeping my hearing

walking every day and eating a healthier diet; returning to my Tai Chi and meditation practices; learning how to make essential oil candles; practicing the piano for half an hour, five days a week; bringing fresh flowers to the table once a week, or whenever they need changing; watching the new-born alligators and checking their progress until they can climb up on their mother’s back; observing otters, wood storks, egrets, and all the other shorebirds; spending time doing nothing; hugging trees, and sitting with my back against them; reading some of the many books that are stacked on my nightstand; setting aside one day each week for writing, with no distractions from the telephone or the computer; writing one haiku a day, but not expecting perfection, not even close; watching sun set every night

figuring out the joys of being  an “old old” person; reading all the way through my file of the 40 annual letters sent to friends in all the years between 1978 and 2019; eating slowly and fully tasting the foods I put in my mouth; seeking and finding ways to share my relative comfort and abundance with others in desperate circumstances e.g., the starving children of Yemen and their stricken parents; creating an essay for my seven young adult grandchildren about “What I Wish I Had Known at Your Age”; keeping the clothing I own that helps to make me feel ready for whatever might happen — for example, keeping extra blue jeans and sturdy night gowns; stopping myself from thinking of memories as things and times that I have lost — I want to think of them as times that I can experience again whenever I feel so inclined because they are still quite vivid in my memory

listing/documenting/photographing many of my beloved objects (paintings, furniture, scarves, pillows, lamps) so that my family and friends, and I, will remember their genesis and emotional value; tracing the careers of my doctoral advisees, mostly women, and feeling  proud; thinking often of the beautiful places I have seen — such as the island of Eigg off the west coast of Scotland, the Summer Palace at Beijing, the small village of Dolna Krupa in Slovakia, the old-growth forest of Heart’s Content, NYC crowds at Christmas, Trim’s Corners in Pennsylvania, the Oregon coast, etc.; being proud of my fortitude as I turn off the TV news and actually meditate in the resulting quiet; remembering to get a haircut before I feel totally uncared for; getting my CD player repaired or replaced so I can again hear the music I have long loved without the recent gurgles and skips that are so  bad; rereading, and rereading, and rereading, yet again, many of the writings that I love — written by me and by others

holding my love of truth (and my adventurous lover's hand) as I choose decisively and deliciously into dare; visiting my kid in New York City because love calls me there, though some inner ghost of my old parched, loveless self would resist and whine (pain-in-the-ass of getting there, dizzying buzz of being there); re-friending the big night sky, mind-blowingly charged with stars and powdered starlight, even though that opening requires exiting my cozy in-town world — but how would it not be worth it to weave back into my sight and soul those silver-gold threads of a firmament so grand I cannot fathom how I lost it from view

drinking coffee in a Paris Café and eating a croissant; becoming more fluent in French and being able to speak to people without putting my foot in my mouth by saying the wrong thing; returning to Ithaca in mid-April and dusting off my binoculars for birding season; hoping to find an exotic bird as I did two years ago when I found the elusive “yellow breasted chat” that had not been seen in Ithaca for 14 years; taking life slow, deepening my meditation practice, and experiencing gratitude every day

a year of transformation, healing, and new growth; pruning back my hours at work and creating space and time and fresh air to be me again; decluttering and downsizing my home; slow cooking steaming pots of day-long soup; tracing my family roots; starting a book about coping with climate change; reading “Braiding Sweetgrass” as a weekly meditation; learning to work with animal spirit guide oracle cards that were gifted to me; writing more, writing more, writing more

taking long walks without the fear of falling; hunkering down in the quiet of winter and enjoying the sweet slow days of the season; going to the Women’s March in January; being able to use 2 hands after my wrist heals; watching myself heal, more and more each day; doing my physical therapy exercises; being able to drive again; going to Mexico where the sun shines in February; creating a new performance piece and performing it; getting back to Zumba; gaining a new perspective on life, with gratitude and joy whenever possible; returning to Maine in September; swimming in the warm pool; lowering my expectations; dreaming of a life that’s fair for all

writing — a lot; reading — a lot; having real snow, and at least one of those impossibly bright blue cold days that follows a real snow; getting off my blood pressure medication; accepting the invitation to visit, from my nephew who lives on a houseboat in Washington, the only state besides Alaska I’ve not set foot in; trusting my tears; no longer owning a car — yay Carshare and Lime Bikes; eating more spinach (really!); getting in the lake (not Cayuga) naked; sitting in that curved place in the gorge where the phoebe lives and waiting until he sings; smelling Spring, smelling Fall; learning how to stream WSKG; when tempted to use Amazon, remembering the people who work like frantic ants in the windowless warehouses; believing what I feel during yoga; simplify, simplify, simplify

letting go; being more daring; living where my feet are; being a nicer person; creating better relationships with my family and spending more time with them; being more compassionate and tolerant; losing some weight; watching more sunsets and appreciating the day they represented; connecting more with friends; traveling more; maybe, just maybe, actively searching for new love; worrying less about things I cannot change

acquainting myself with my body; shepherding wayward thoughts; enjoying cups of tea; having respectful dealings with food; accepting all that enters through the gate, as ally and friend; experiencing a renaissance of health; feeling gratefulness in all things

lying on my back, floating on water, the sun warming me; celebrating a 25th anniversary with my beloved; sharing long meals and conversation and laughter with dear friends; cooking with Zee; slipping the boat away from the dock and onto the lake; returning to Venice to sit along the Misericordia Canal, with my writing notebook, a pen, and a glass of red wine; cuddling with the grandkids; caring for my 88-year-old mother, so that her final years are filled with comfort and laughter and joy; spending a part of each day reflecting on the gratitude I feel for being alive; sitting, stretching, breathing; planning the first public exhibit of my photographs; lying in bed, just after sunset, as summer breezes fill the room and crickets and cicadas orchestrate my dreams; standing naked in front of the mirror and learning to accept/appreciate/love the curves and gray hair — and the history they contain

integrating spiritual lessons into my daily life; being authentic; letting true intimacy come into my life; recognizing my needs and not being afraid to put them out there, even if they are rejected, because I can love myself; living a life that is free because I have learned to forgive; being grateful that I have reached this place in my life that feels true; being open to the magic of everyday living; being open to love without expectation; having magical moments with the magical womyn in my life; getting to know and trust someone new in my life and being honest about who I am and what I need, with no expectations; accepting that I do not have to be anything more than who I am; having sex with authenticity, and knowing for the first time what that means

perfecting “Wave Like Clouds” in Tai Chi; singing "Fly Me to the Moon" with my 92-year-old mother; forming more snow angels; substituting chocolate for anti-depressants; learning how to say “I Love You” in 10 languages; celebrating my wrinkles as roadmaps to a happy long life; inviting the Muses into my writing room for a cup of peppermint tea with honey; remembering that each day is a Holyday; lighting candles and saying aloud the names of the lost; welcoming the 13 wild turkeys who visit our yard every morning for cracked corn and birdseed; planting sunflowers in the backyard so it will look like Grandpa's garden; empowering my voice so I can use it like Aretha's: with RESPECT; walking lightly and leaving soft footprints on the earth; unwrapping the only present I have, knowing each minute is a gift; beginning and ending each day with “Thank You”

picking up a brush and having an adventure with color; biking for miles and miles and miles; building a better bird house with my grandson; creating a pool with cascading water beneath my window; continuing my once a year tradition of body surfing in the Atlantic; reading 50 books and being able to remember every one; planting zinnias in the corner garden come spring so they will provide a festive colorful party in the summer for all the passersby

taking a long, hot, bubbly bath on New Year's day to wash away all my negative thoughts; taking short day trips with my husband to unusual places we've never heard of before; planting an above-ground vegetable garden that will give me juicy tomatoes, snappy carrots, okra, maybe even a few peppers (none nibbled on by yard rabbits); reviving my miniature rose plants in late spring; writing new forms of poetry and prose I've wanted to experiment with; continuing my study of Spanish using old and new techniques and resources, like books, CDs, online sessions, and occasional real-time classes; writing entries in my personal memoir notebook

sending more hand written letters through the U.S. Post Office; losing that same 10 pounds once again; finishing the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle in 2 hours; being better at remembering people’s names

listening to a new TED talk every day (or at least once a week); spending more time by myself, with myself; keeping regular hours: consistency with waking up and going to sleep; accepting myself — my weaknesses and my strengths; listening more carefully when others talk; shutting off my computer every afternoon at 4 p.m. and spending the evening/night reading; sending postcards to friends whenever I feel like it, not waiting for there to be a special occasion or even for there to be something vital to share

finding a job that I love and look forward to each day; writing alone and also with my writing friends; publishing something/anything that I’ve written; only eating food that I enjoy with the purpose of nourishment and pleasure; holding my husband’s hand so he knows I'm here beside him; honoring my sorrow and grief with grace and kindness;  maintaining strong loving boundaries with everyone — for my sake and theirs; owning only what is mine to own; allowing the past to be in the past so that I can move through the world without dragging what doesn’t work into each precious moment

walking more in nature for my well-being, walking in the city to remind me that I'm part of something bigger, and walking at the gym so I won't fall, again, on the ice; playing everyday with my dogs and letting their sweet acceptance remind me of the light in the dark; smiling and laughing and playing and running and being with my grandson; appreciating my daughter’s thoughtful navigation of life; moving my body so that it can continue to carry me in the world with more ease and comfort as I go further into my 6th decade; siting in meditation and gratitude for this precious life; being in quiet understanding of the certainty of change

being less judgmental; dancing with my grandchildren; having special times with my husband; holding dear the love of my children; helping my mom and dad and brothers; listening and truly hearing others; losing the weight I've let on, and if I don't, still being okay with that; going to Italy!; inspiring all my 5th grade students, especially the reluctant ones; learning to knit; finishing a quilt with my mom; meditating more; running in another half marathon (maybe); helping others in recovery; watching for miracles of all kinds, especially the ones that seem ordinary — like a smile, or a letter, or any just-the-right-thing at any just-the-right-time

I am looking forward to hot summer days with the kids at the Stewart Park splash pad; the feeling of time starting over again; a really big February or March snowstorm that takes us by surprise and shuts down the town for a day or so; planting the first seedlings and maybe keeping some alive; the magic of the strawberries out back, growing again without any effort at all on my part, which is a true miracle for a mother of toddlers; placing another tiny pin in the map of National Parks; and of course: Ithaca Festival Parade




THANK YOU to all these contributors:

Anne Killian-Russo
Annie Wexler
Antonia Matthew
Barbara Anger
Barbara Cartwright
Barbara Kane-Lewis
Blue Waters
Fran Markover
Helen Lang
Ian Mickey Shapiro
Jamie Swinnerton
Jayalalita
Jennifer VanAlstine
Jim Mazza
Jo Balistreri
Joan McNerney
Joanna Weston
Judith Sornberger
Kath Abela Wilson
Linda Keeler
Margaret Lay-Dopyera
Mary Jane Richmond
Mary Louise Church
Mimi Foyle
Nancy Gabriel
Peggy Stevens
Rob Sullivan
Sharon Fellows
Summer Killian
Susan Koon
Theresa A. Cancro
Yvonne Fisher
Zee Zahava