My case of nervous anxiety over what to write now is huge. I love writing. It strengthens my love for words, sentences, and paragraphs. Words encapsulate our soul, who we are, and who we would like to be. Stories connect us in profound ways. One of which is that beautiful moment when you make a new friend. Tim Keller describes it as that moment when you realize someone else is like you or does something like you and you ask: and you too? Nonetheless, I have learned to embrace my nervous existential crisis and let it work its magic. My friends, here is a post sprinkled with tons of self doubt, existential crisis, and a dash of “wasn’t obscurity better?”
Last year I abstained
Margaret Atwood
This year I devour
Without guilt
Which is also an art.
I came across the quote above from Margaret Atwood on the @so.textual Instagram profile. It grabbed my attention, probably because it was New Year’s Eve.
The quote immediately reminded me of my littlest niece on the photo below. She is only a year and some months old. Her pace and rhythm however, are the pace and rhythm of several one year olds cooped up in her little self.
She starts the day ready to conquer and dominate… her toys, her food, her books, her space, her reach, and her world.
She then moves on to the things out of her reach—the things she wants but can’t or shouldn’t have.
She switches to music. Her Daddy’s music, her favorite songs, and her favorite shows, which only keep her for a few minutes.
She starts all over again.
Her daily choreography is performed without losing a beat. Without losing her enthusiasm. Without losing her gusto. Without losing her zest.
She needs to touch, to learn, to feel, and to experience life. She has a relentless and tireless energy that far surpasses the bumps or stumbles she might have on her path.
Her days are the same, yet they are not the same. She approaches each day is as if it was the first. Without guilt. Without regret. Without apology.
She simply devours each day with joyful embrace.
The quote just appeared at the right time. Just after spending ten days with her, on New Year’s Eve after a long drive. At that time when one thinks of the goals, the future, the plans, and the next steps. At that time when one sets up a new calendar, a new planner, and new intentions. At that time when one believes that the new planner, the new pen or pencil, and the new list of things for 2024 are the magic trick we need to get our life in order.
How do you start a new year? I rarely write up goals partly because they cause me anxiety and worry. I believe in habits, approaches, and disposition. So, I want to start this new year just like my niece does and like the quote said: devouring it, which is also an art without guilt. Yes, there is plenty to lament but there’s also plenty to rejoice.
I want to do life just like my niece does hers: devouring each day without guilt.
Happy New Year.
Alma Hoffmann is a freelance designer, design educator, author of Sketching as Design Thinking, and editor at Smashing Magazine. This was originally posted on Temperamental amusing shenanigans, Alma’s Substack dedicated to design, life, and everything in between.