Foolish Wishes, Resolutions, Etc.

To surface each morning already grasping for every precious scrap of consciousness.

To dance and blow bubbles and reach instinctively for the brightest colors in the crayon box.

To creep through bushes and fling yourself at the world.

To howl and holler and feel the grass between your toes.

To move forward.

To lunge.

To leap.

To stomp through the calendar, oblivious.

To laugh uncontrollably, and cry uncle.

To acknowledge that the place you live remains a foreign country, almost wholly unexplored.

To see all around you entire new constellations and vast galaxies teeming with possibility.

To have pure idiot wonder and faith in the limitless miracles of your body.

To trust fully the things on which you can depend.

To harbor none but exaggerated fears and the smallest of dissolving terrors.

To be hungry for nothing but something to eat.

To be forever trusting in the arms of mercy.

To, once you stand and run, never crawl again.

To recognize that you are blessed beyond measure, and to accept your blessings as the expected, everyday miracles that they are.

To reach out.

To raise your voice.

To bite your tongue.

To listen.

To hear voices.

To change your mind.

To hold out hope, as a gift, as an offering.

To hold on.

To let go.

To be there.

To wave the white flag, victorious.

To embrace with gratitude your gifts and opportunities.

To spend time at the bottom of every day with your inventory of pleasures and fond memories.

To give yourself away.

To know that you’ve done what you could.

To be at peace.

To sleep and –not merely perchance– to dream.

Sweet dreams.