This year, I walked through more grief than I thought I could handle. There were many moments when I was sure I would break. Sometimes I still feel like I might. This was not a year of gentle transition or peaceful endings. It was a year that felt cruel. I willingly left an ecosystem I loved more dearly than I had ever loved anything. I left a life that had grown thick with meaning and texture. I miss my dog and my old cat Hector with an ache that doesn’t leave. I miss feedin

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? (Should old friends be forgotten and never remembered?) Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne? (Should old relationships be forgotten, and the time we shared long ago?) For auld lang syne, my jo, For auld lang syne, (For the sake of old times, my dear, for the sake of what has been,) We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet, For auld lang syne. (we’ll still share a drink of goodwill for the sake of old tim

For a long time, I accepted the New Year the way most of us are taught to: a clean line between what was and what might be. A moment of collective pause. A symbolic beginning. The story is nice. But the narrative never felt quite right. What we now call the New Year did not emerge from nature, intuition, or spiritual insight. It emerged from administration. From political necessity. From an empire trying to get its house in order. When Rome Lost Control of Time—and Took It Ba