Setting fire to the New Year...

The New Year is the strangest holiday. There is so much build up and then in a fleeting second the anticipation is over and the year has begun. As a folklorist it's almost a requirement to understand why people celebrate each holiday as they do, so this year it was a goal to take hold of the New Year and create significant meaning in my mind.

The last day of 2014 was spent figuring out a great meal to prepare, and as I drove the streets of Salt Lake City, I listened to the radio hearing the voices of strangers across the world and their ways of celebrating. Wishes were being cast into the universe. Somewhere in the east people were lighting lanterns to fly across the ocean for luck, and it made me think of Prometheus.

Prometheus, the Titan who sided with the Gods, created man from mud, and gave each of us the gift of fire for protection and ritual. If anything could be asked for in 2015, forethought of the human race should be considered. Late in the evening I set to the task of truly thinking of the things I want for the coming year(s). I wrote them down and decided to release them to the universe in a fashion Prometheus would approve, allowing the smoke of my wishes to rise to the skies.

As the paper ignited, cheers ensued from my surrounding neighbors. I added my voice to the mix--yelling out a Happy New Year. The flame was quick to ignite, and I watched as my wishes lifted to the heavens. The vapor of their smoke may take awhile to hit the stars, but I set them on their path along with the fire to kindle their reality.

Temptations and Resolutions...

It's almost the new year, and I'm tempting fate with downtown parking at a new coffee shop. As I listen to the radio today, and see the news, I'd like to say this post is going to be all light and fluffy; I'd like to say I have grand plans for the moment the New Year is rung in; I'd like to say I have a magical kiss waiting for me when the clock strikes midnight, but reality is  sometimes the new year is a reflection of the past. It is the moments that break our hearts the most that teach us the life lessons we need for the coming year. This year has had many ups and I would say one hard down, but all in all 2014 brought many great insights to my life, and I want to remember them.

This New Year will be spent alone. I will count down the seconds to the new year and sip on a neat whiskey when the ball falls. It sounds depressing to some, but 2014 taught me it's time to focus on what I truly need in life. My needs are not extravagant. I do not need millions of dollars, I don't want a wardrobe of slim fitting clothes, I don't need to have a new gym membership or a new car; I don't want a fancy job title. All I need this year is to work on me; work on all the passions I have in my life; work on seeing more of the world and those who are in it.

And so, though I'm tempted to ask for a full time job; tempted to push my life in a new direction; tempted to pick up and move; tempted to take control, instead I will focus on what I already know. I will let my life take shape instead of attempting to mold it into perfection. This year, my resolution is to recognize that at times I may be tired, but I have so many passions and it is always time to be working on them. I will write, I will read, I will teach, I will bake, I will knit, I will be me--and enjoy every moment of it and be thankful for the friends and family I get to share it with.

To everyone....

Happy New Year!

Dear Santa...

You may be frantic right now, as it is your busiest day of the year. Hopefully, you're not where I was two days ago, having a mental break down in the grocery aisle when I realized I couldn't afford the good balsamic vinegar. (Why is it always grocery stores that make me panic?) Truthfully, my spirit for the holiday hasn't been what I hoped for this year.

But may I just tell you, no matter how the present Christmas feels--I will always believe in you!!!


I guess I just wanted to say thanks for the small (yet monumental) gifts you gave me this year:

When I was down and out, driving to work, you miraculously appeared next to my side on a bright yellow tricked-out scooter blaring the music "All I Want for Christmas is You," by Mariah Carey. That made me truly smile for the first time in months, and the ability to wave to you made me truly feel the spirit of the season, if only for a moment. And I guess all we can ask for is moments. Then, at my cookie party, you gave me my wish--I saw snow flurries cascading off the streetlamps surrounding my house at night. The street was quiet and echoed my glee as each flake tickled while melting off my nose. Finally, as I began writing this letter to you, I was able to wait for the best gift of all: My parents.

With the folks, the holiday is complete. This year, I may not have actual presents for them to unwrap, but I know our conversations around the many dinners, coffees, and couches will be the merriest of all.

Thanks Santa for showing me what this time of year is all about--the moments we get to spend together, and the ease which magic can come into your life if you let it. This Christmas, I wish you safe journeys; I wish you cleverness in your ability to sneak past traps children may have placed to catch a glimpse of you (be warned: talking robots with trip-wire string may be placed near fireplaces); I wish you all the joy and cookies you can partake in.

And may I say--I feel lucky in life that you have made your presence know to me not only in my youth, but my adulthood as well. I shall be listening for the bells of your sleigh always. The smile you bring me each and every year is the true gift.

Merry Christmas Santa!!!

D.dot

Setting the table...

It's that time we sit ourselves around a table with friends and family to give thanks. Thanks for all the people and events that take place in our lives. I am thankful for all the people who are, have been (and may no longer be) in my life. I hope each and everyone of you know this, because it should have been told to you directly.

But what about those who have been in my life, yet I've never met?

This post is a thank you to all of them. It's the imagination playing towards a feast at a table of first introductions.

Envision it. A table set for twelve. In my cramped apartment, makeshift tables (of varying heights and shapes) would be placed together accompanied by non-matching chairs with just enough space to squeeze our forms into place. The china would be eclectic plates and silverware all found from the DI achieving miscellaneous patterns, with wine glasses of differing colors set to their side. Two Red Rock Beer growlers would be on the table, cleaned and replenished with ice cold water in the effort to maintain, but not exceed, a nice holiday buzz.

All the typical fixings would be present: Roasted Turkey, Mom's scrumptious mashed potatoes, my famous and fresh cranberry sauce, homemade white rolls perfect to dollop butter on top and eat whole. I'd prepare other dishes as well, on the off chance of dietary needs: Vegetarian lasagna, crispy Brussels sprouts in orange reduction, a fine kale salad, and of course sweet potatoes. And god forbid, lets not forget the dessert: Pumpkin Pie, zabaglione drizzled strawberries, and few pieces of chocolate to compliment the evening coffee.

At the table, conversation would begin awkwardly, but would build to a rousing chatter. Sitting around the table would be J.K. Rowling, Neil Gaiman, Amanda Palmer, Jimmy Kimmel, Tina Fey, Jack Zipes, Tim Burton, Francesca Lia Block, Ira Glass, Liz Weir, and Eddie Vedder.

Each would bring a unique perspective to the table, which I feel would compliment and balance one another. As a proper host I would thank them all for the times they have supported me with out knowing, directed and guided me without knowing, made me laugh or cry: Amanda Palmer would get the dinner started by finding the perfect moment to hasten my rambling gratitude by asking for the rolls to be passed. J.K. Rowling would start a deep conversation asking Neil Gaiman about his recent writings on the issues faced by Syrian refugees and would add her insights from when she worked for Amnesty International. Jack Zipes would bring their discussion to folklore and culture, and present a classic tale matching the holiday, while Tim Burton would listen and then twist the tale on its head, and Liz Weir would present a traditional Irish folktale that would take all our breaths away. Jimmy Kimmel would break the deep thoughts by laughing, and Tina Fey would bring a witty and natural insight to his laughter, which would make the whole table break into unstoppable laughter. The food would be appreciated, but the conversation would be the highlight of the evening. Francesca Lia Block would provide a verbal painting on the transition from Grunge to Indie to the full circle of folk music with Eddie Vedder. Amanda Palmer and Eddie Vedder would entertain the group with renditions of songs with the aide of a ukulele, while I cleared the plates and set the table for dessert. All the while Ira Glass would be connecting our stories to those he has met or heard about on his various journeys. And then I would see who wanted to match their Harry Potter trivia to the creator herself (all questions created by self of course).

J.K. Rowling would put me in my place, while I finished the last bite of pumpkin pie on my plate, and I would bow and smile at the same time. As the group would leave my small home, I would thank my newly met friends for a memorable evening. I would hug each and everyone of them for all they provided to me and all that will come. I would say thanks. Thanks to every moment, every wish I have had in my life, thanks for living and learning. I would close the door and know everyday is a new journey with the possibility of setting new stages to life: creating each and everyone of our stories.

It is the story that is important: the reflection, celebration and moments that make us feel alive.