2015

2015 will be my fortieth year on this planet. Novelty, I have found, has a way of wearing off. Once upon a time a person I know is wise–as here on the planet generally we mean wise–told me that house prices could never depreciate, that it was the one unfailing investment. Once upon a time we all thought the world was swiftly running out of oil. The world’s upheavals are short-lived even if the consequences linger on. Resolved: to go deeper into Tolkien’s love of ancientness, the world around me notwithstanding. To understand consequences better.

Resolved: to remember however imprecise Heidegger’s dictum “technology alienates from being” may be, it is still useful. To remember it is imprecise, but true enough. Though I do think the novelty of the gadgets is beginning to blur with the speed at which it now has to be maintained, and will soon seem one and will wear off.

It ought to be a year of deliberation, and deliberate choices. Resolved: to deliberate with greater deliberation.

A year of Latin, or at least half a year of it, as 2014 has been the first half. A year for the habit of Latin, perhaps the budding of the patient cultivation. Resolved: to go at least as far as I’ve come.

Let this year come and go. Let me face it with the incomplete practice of patience and equanimity. Let patience and equanimity like sediment, a few grains at least, but true, accumulate in the stream bed time uses to rush over my soul. Resolved: to be more geological. Yes, more geological–a chap of sediments and perhaps even a stratum or two.

Let winter deepen and then relent. I will unfortunately probably be in Ohio for the brief spring that is soon mugged by the brutalities of summer that then stalls somewhat in July, sits like a grinning village idiot all August long and then tapers gently into the prolonged autumn. I may not be here for the autumn. I would like to say, Resolved: to live farther north. It might be possible, though I am mostly hoping it will not.

Who knows what they will say, what a day will bring forth? Cry, what shall I cry? All flesh is grass. The vanity of 2014 gives way to the vanity of 2015, and still all is vanity. But not all is vanity. Some things buried away in the vanity are not vanity: the permanent things. Resolved: to be more permanent during the vagaries of 2015.

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