I can decide what is good (and I can be good in the process).

Rebecca Fox Starr — Wed, 31 Dec 2014 17:35:25 +0000

It is the last day of 2014. If I haven’t mentioned it before, it has been quite the year.

So, this morning, I rummaged the back of the drawer in my bedroom in search of something that I have not seen for two and a half years; my journal.

I bought my journal from Borders, when it used to exist, and the first entry was written by my husband. We were just dating at the time, but met on a work lunch break and he left me a little note.

I used this journal to work on my thesis.

and then in 2012 I used it as my sacred songwriting book, as I spent half a year involved in a musical partnership; I had a talented musician to write the music and I wrote the words.

It was actually with great pause that I decided to include a page from those particular songwriting days. And the page you see is truly the most legible of all of the notes; the dozens of other pages from that summer are filled with crossed out lines and ink of different colors and notes in the margins and many words are barely readable.

And then, that collaboration ended.

And I was lucky enough to find a new, most fantastic musical home. I found the place where I belong.

In any case, I broke out my journal this morning so that I could write an entry about the new year. I would write about how 2014 was extraordinary in so many ways, and about my hopes for 2015.

But, as I started to write, the one pen that I had that is the kind that I like (I like pushy pens, not the ones with wet ink), kept stalling on me, and I decided that perhaps it wasn’t meant to be; Because, in truth, this has become my journal. This is where I share my deep secrets and fears and most intimate works of writing.

Over the weekend I wrote about being very moved when I took my daughter to see “Into the Woods”.

Ever since that Sunday matinee, this one line has stuck in my head and I can’t stop singing it:

Sometimes people leave you.
Halfway through the wood.
Others may deceive you.
You decide whats good.
You decide alone.
But no one is alone…

Witches can be right, Giants can be good.
You decide what’s right you decide what’s good

And the thing is, that has never been my favorite song, or even a song that I payed much attention to, as it is at the very end of the show and the Baker’s Wife is already gone and I just never gave it much thought.

Sometimes people leave you

Halfway through the wood.

In literal terms, this is referring to the people whom the characters have lost along their journey.

And metaphorically, it is a sentiment about how ephemeral life can be, and how a person can be in your life one day, and not in your life the next.

But I think that for some reason, the way that my brain is interpreting it–the reason why my subconscious is clinging on so fiercely–is because I think of this as a message of hope for me; That in moving forward, I can be strong, I can be independent, I can choose whom I want to be in my future and whom I do not. We are so often caught in the politics of life, aiming to please everyone,

our kids, our spouses, our peers, the people at our kids’ schools, our bosses,

and I think that the line above is liberating for me.

I have spent so much time wallowing in the sorrows of this past year,

mourning the loss of relationships

and, to be honest, feeling sorry for myself.

No more.

My resolution for this year is simply to be a better person.

To help others as much as I can, to conjure my inner-strength whenever possible and, most importantly, to be kind to myself.

Being kind to others is a given; But I need to remember to take care of Rebecca, as well.

It’s strange how seemingly random lines can evoke such powerful emotions, but for me, this is the perfect way to end 2014

and start my journey into 2015.

I wish you a very Happy New Year.

May you have peace, may you feel gratitude and may you be good to yourself. Remember, put your oxygen mask on first.

See you on the flip side.

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I can decide what is good (and I can be good in the process).