HOW’S YOUR BOX?

Every Christmas, for approximately four nights, I sleep with Dart.

I enter the room and the scaley little guy looks up at me. His twitchy rotating eye balls watch me unpack my luggage. His eyes follow me around the room with what I think is…Interest? Confusion? Anxiety? I’m not sure. But I always sit on the edge of the bed and say to Dart, “I think your life sucks, buddy.” Every year, every visit, every day that I’m there, I tell my little friend what I think of his little world. I don’t mean to do this with judgement, per say; I say this because I empathize with him.

Dart is an iguana lizard thingy that spends his days in a glass container filled with sand, a fake log, jungle patterned walls, and heated lamps to mask the fact that he’s trapped in an aquarium. Basically, he’s stuck inside a home, that’s inside a room, that’s inside a house, sounds like a Terry Prachett novel, and he has no idea that his natural environment is no less than a thousand miles due south. I told you.

His life sucks.

But how are we any different than Dart?

We too, wake up to the same colored walls with the same window coverings, in an acclimated space. We head to the bathroom and then make our beds, even adding the throw pillows for added decoration—you know, just in case someone stops by. The coffee maker is set to that specific time so after we pee, make our bed, we can grab our cup of caffeine to get the day revved up and started.

The comparison is too realistic to ignore. We live in our little boxes (houses). And unless we’re homeless, on our square land, within a square city or community, easily visible from Google Earth that illustrates our practically ninety-degree grid system.

We’re all Dart!

Except, I don’t want to be like Dart anymore.

This year has been a bit of a roller coaster for me. I’ve felt burdened by some of the saddest moments of my life this past year. I’ve learned that being kind isn’t always reciprocated. Open lines of communication sometimes sound more like ordering food through a drive thru during a thunderstorm. And hard work isn’t rewarded monetarily. But despite all I’ve learned in what feels like the hard way, by the end of 2023, I can see that from darkness, light is born.

It turns out that there are a whole bunch of weird writer-type, abstract thinkers out there who have helped me break open my box of thinking and have allowed me to see the sun stream rays of light through dense dark clouds. For goodness’ sake, I even think I’ve found my purpose. Took long enough!

The New Year is quickly approaching. Some of us make resolutions that never make it past day two. Some call resolutions a conspiracy to keep us in the square circus. Some call them goals and make a year’s worth of strategized twelve-week intervals to change our box. No matter what you choose to become in the upcoming year, I suggest a few things…if I may.

First, regardless of all the mean people in the world, be kind to them. Second, listen without judgement and speak with intent. Third, keep working hard for what you believe in. The reward will come. And finally, I ask that you change a routine. Go hiking or read a genre you don’t normally read. Take a trip to the shore and feel the ocean’s sand between your toes. Be wild and crazy and talk to a stranger in the check-out lane. Whatever gets you out of your comfort zone and out of your box. Give it a whirl.

Above all, no matter how you choose to move forward in 2024, please, oh please, don’t be a Dart!

HAPPY NEW YEAR, FRIENDS!!!