It’s almost over. The year. Perhaps by the time you read this (whoever you are, however you get here) it will be over, and that will be that.

Lately, on the internet at least, there have been a lot of people piping up to say that nothing will change when the year ends, and implying or stating outright that thinking so is hopelessly naive. And, you know, they are not wrong that a calendar page more or less, here or there, is not the defining feature of the times.

But I still think there is meaning in choosing a day, and saying, collectively, this is the beginning.


Just a couple more sleeps to get there. The moon was full last night, so bright outside I could almost read by it. There is still much to celebrate. The light is still falling on us. Every day, from every direction.