The Art of Being and Not Setting Goals for 2025

The weather here in Salem, MA has been unusually warm and super dry. We haven't had a proper rain in months and we're now experiencing a severe draught. It's so bad that Massachusetts has had a number of huge brush fires that wiped out acres and acres of marshland and wooded areas. The governor issued a statement to conserve water and put a ban on outdoor, open fires. This is not normal. Usually, November is a bone-chillingly wet month. It's usually the kind of month that requires mud boots and layers, soup and stews, and the comforter on the bed. Not this year. Nothing about this year is normal.

July and August was unreasonably hot ... so hot that for the first time in decades I was battling heat rash ... so hot that I avoided going outside ... so hot that the air conditioner did barely anything. This is not normal for us here in Massachusetts.

I applied for a remote, full-time Instructional Professor job at the University of Mississippi in June. This position was a quick hire because two people were leaving the department. The start date was August 22 -- the Fall Semester. I got the position and frantically built four online courses, courses that I'm still building as I go along. I have 280 students. I'm doing the best I can, but I'm exhausted and frustrated and ... well ... exhausted. While it's normal to feel exhausted during the semester, it's not normal for such a quick and late hire. I'm grateful for the job and I truly adore my fellow faculty and students ... none of this is normal. 

I guess I don't really do normal. I never have. And when I try to do normal, it backfires splendidly.

Every Samhain, I reflect on the past year: where I've been, what I've been doing, what I've accomplished, what still needs to be done. Every Samhain, I write lists and lists of things I'm proud of and how close I am to achieving my goals. Every Samhain, I start to create the goals and intentions for the coming year: health and fitness goals, scholarly goals, teaching goals, creative goals, etc. Last year, I said that I would read two books a month, get out three papers for publication, get a full-time job, build a garden, start painting again, etc. The list was long. I accomplished a quarter of those goals. Again.

My Christmas cactus is blooming again!

All Spring and Summer I worked on my papers, just to put them on the back burner because I needed to build my courses. Hooray! I got a full-time job ... but, crap! My publishing is, once again, nonexistent. Hooray! We joined the YMCA with the intention of exercising ... but crap! We went only a few times and my whole schedule was nuked. Hell, I gained 15 pounds since the Summer! I'm 15 pounds heavier than when I started Bat Fit and lost all that weight in 2012. Hooray! I found an awesome 18th century reenacting group that I'm really excited to be a part of ... crap! I have had no time to sew because all I'm doing is trying to survive this semester.

My gorgeous spider plant is thriving.

 My houseplants are thriving this year. After moving them around the house to find the right amount of sunlight and warmth, they are nicely settled into their perfect places. I repotted all of my plants and fertilized them at the beginning of the Summer. They're due for another feeding before they settle down for the dark, cold months ahead. Each plant has its own watering schedule. Each plant gets rotated so that it doesn't favor one side. They are thriving. My Christmas cactus bloomed for Easter and now for Thanksgiving. Lulu -- that's her name -- will continue blooming through Christmas. She's huge and happy and hearty! My spider plant has produced three rounds of babies. I've clipped and potted the first two. The first round of babies is now producing babies. Life is thriving in my house. 

The plants are settled and happy where they are. They get enough sunlight and water and fertilizer. As a result, they are blooming, thriving, and reproducing. They happily soak in whatever sun there is and effortlessly make my living space comfortable, homey, and healthy. They don't set goals. They don't plan. They just are and they are pretty successful at it. 

For the first time in a long time, I haven't set any goals or intentions for the New Year. I haven't made plans. I haven't set deadlines. For the first time in a very, very long time, I'm going into the New Year with a completely blank slate: no goals, no deadlines ... nothing! I don't have a list of accomplishments that I want to achieve by 2026. I don't have any intentions. I'm not trying to adopt any productivity hack. I'm not designing my dream life. 

Instead, I'm taking a cue from my house plants. I'm where I need to be and have enough to thrive. Don't get me wrong, I'm itching to read and write about art. I want to move my body so that I can feel good and remain flexible. I'm dreaming about my garden and my chicken coop. But, I'm not setting goals or perfect health numbers or deadlines. I'm going to stop trying to control every aspect of my life and just "be" for change. I'm letting go.

Once Upon a Time ...

Chestnut Street, Salem MA 2024

Change is inevitable. Like death, it's the one thing in this life that we can count on. Our situation changes. Our life changes. Our relationships change. Whether we're ready or not, we change. This is the year that I've had. 

Early Summer, 2024. Newly fixed steps and landscaping.

Oh don't get me wrong, things are good ... very good actually. Ed and I are happily living in our little Midcentury Modern Cape on the outskirts of the McIntire District in Salem, MA. Maude, the name we gave our home, is getting the love that she so desperately needed and deserves. She's been deep cleaned and her walls have been painted. The windows, roof, and siding have been replaced. This year we had the chimney repointed and I fixed the front steps, myself. We build our garden and finally finished the landscaping. Maude and her beautiful garden are wonderfully cozy.

Doc and Ziggy, 2 years old and counting!

The pups are doing well. They keep us very busy with their antics, but we wouldn't have it any other way. They are full-fledged dogs with full-fledged doggie personalities. They go to daycare when we go out on dates and, from what we've been told, they are well-behaved and play nicely with the other pups. This surprised us because Ziggy (the white one) hates other dogs and Doc follows along. Both completely freak out on the leash when other dogs are around, but in daycare! angels. Go figure. They are now "backyard" dogs. They get to be off the leash in the backyard. They play fetch, chase each other, and "patrol" the borders for those garden destroyers: BUNNIES! Doc almost caught two! He's fast as lightening and sends those rabbits a'running. I swear one day he's going to catch one.

The Majestic Bijou. 5 years and counting.

Bijou is as gorgeous and wonderful as always. She's such a smooshy kitty! She accepted the boys immediately and even plays with them -- chasing them and getting chased by them. She still loves her daddy to bits and pieces! And she still gives me morning smooches and head bumps. She's the best kitty we've ever had and I'm so grateful she's in our life.

Halloween 2024

Yes, things are really good ... but things have changed quite a bit. I am now teaching full-time for the University of Mississippi. I'm a remote, Instructional Assistant Professor of Art History. HOORAY! I'm also eyeball deep in writing ... finally. sigh ... it's been a long slumber, but it's time to emerge from my academic burrow. Things are changing. Things ALWAYS change. I have changed.

As my Mom would say, I'm in my second act. I started going through menopause this year. Night sweats, hot flashes, a sluggish metabolism and subsequent weight-gain surprised the hell out of me. My face is changing. My body is changing. I have a substantial amount of "snow on the roof," though you wouldn't be able to tell because I'm still dying my hair. I'm a bit slower, but much sharper and seasoned. I am absolutely aware of my mortality. I am 52 years old. My father died when he was 69 and my mother died when she was 73. My grandmothers were longer lived: maternal, 85, and paternal 93. This realization isn't sad or scary. It's empowering. Like the naked branches of the trees, my life is laid bare for me to contemplate. 

We waste so much of our youth worrying what others think, what we're going to "be," and what we're going to "do." We are always looking forward -- 5 year goals, New Year's Resolutions, plans, etc. -- that we don't notice life passing us by. Before we know it, we're at our halfway point and wondering what the hell happened! This year I've accepted that I have only 17 to 41 years left. Again, this isn't scary or sad. It just is.

Mugging with Jellycat Jack at the PEM

Change is inevitable. And that's a good thing. I'm just happy I get to go through old age with my silly weirdo, Ed. Yes, things change ... but our relationship is as strong as ever. We've accepted that we're aging and that we find joy in the garden, camping, our home, Salem, the pups and kitty, and, of course, each other. We are slowing down together and loving every minute of the process. I'm grateful that I get to grow old with my best friend. I know he feels the same.

Halloween 2024.

Welcome back into my world, dear readers. Our journey together will be slower, more contemplative, but definitely beautiful. I can't guarantee that there will be much Goth fashion or makeup or spookiness ... but there will be art and gardening and adventuring and a whole lot of cooking and nesting. Hell, there will be chickens! More on that later. Welcome aboard ... now let's get started.