myth of calendars, 1st january 2017

predictably and hot on the heels on my last blog of 2016 about ‘lasts‘ if my first blog of 2017 of ‘firsts‘…… or not….. if I began to list every single first I’d never get anything done, not even more firsts and any lists cogs would grind rustily to a dead halt……..

I haven’t seen the midnight new years eve for years…. how strange you may say….. I prefer to wake up into a so-called new year than be awake as I hopelessly trip over its threshold…. it’s like time travel, falling asleep in one year and not waking up til the next… being there at midnight I always find the epitome of an anti-climax, albeit usually one with fireworks, so this way the firsts really are firsts….. the time of the first time I wake up, which I’ve managed with aplomb even if I do say so myself, early though not as early as I usually rouse from nodland….. opening my eyes…. first waking breath…… first cup of tea, which I must say tasted just like the first cup of the day every other day…… the first yoga pose, as it happens it involved sitting…. in lotus…. and oh yes, breathing, that’s always useful…. start the year as I mean to go on, breathing……. then I just couldn’t resist a downward-facing dog pose, or asana…….

I’m like that sometimes, impetuous, and if I can’t be such on a day of ‘firsts‘ then when can I be…….

my first porridge, and ’twas good I can tell you…… still waiting for my first sneeze… and for Godot as it happens, but that’s another story……. but it’s all just a myth of calendars, smoke and mirrors, the art of the arbitrary, the emperors new clothes…… next I suppose I could play ‘pin the tail on the resolution’, I think not…… they’re like constitutions, convenient excuses and frustrating distractions, I’d get better results playing ‘jumble words’ on the fridge door……. or sneezing……..


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