Always Hopeful

The ancient people of this island I call home believed that dark preceded light, so their new year began on Samhain ("sowen") - 31st October, our Hallowe'en or the eve of All Saints Day. They celebrated eight esbats throughout the year, Samhain being the most important. It signified the death of their God and also the celebration of his sacrifice knowing he was to later be reborn. It is the day that led to the darkest part of the year. We now recognise 1st January as the new beginning, but I think it eerily fitting that our year begins so darkly.
With sales falling, businesses closing and thousands of jobs being cut, it's hard to feel hopeful about the coming year, particularly with the unending conflict in Gaza overshadowing any kind of feelings of fresh excitement 2009 might bring. It's agonising to think that there is so much happening that you have so little control over. I've got small plans for my return to university to try and make a difference in my own way, but I find my main tactic for dealing with all this uncertainty is simply trust.
You could call me ignorant, naïve or even stupid - but I can't help but feel that things will one day be alright. The trust I have been brought up to put in people, in faith and in love overrides any utter hopelessness I might find immobilising if I let it get the better of me. I don't want to live hopeless and fearful, and so I intend to jump into the dark, the leap of faith from 2008 to 2009, and trust - like so many Americans too, I suppose - that there's something this year to hope for.

(credit unknown)

Today I'm planting my mum some crocuses in a pretty fired clay pot. I like to think about them growing after I go back to Edinburgh tomorrow; a gentle reminder that I was here for a while, an example of new life bursting out of the blackness, evidence that dark must come before light. In the words of a good friend of my dad's, "it is of immense comfort that there are some lasting certainties in this world".