New Year Wishes 2019

One more trip around this powerful though sweet neighbor sun, aboard our crazy spaceship Earth.

Taking by people around me, both from the real or the virtual scope, I’m obviously late to send my New Year wishes. No surprises, I’m frequently late, so when I’m only four days late in a three hundred sixty five days context (or is it one of those years with three hundred sixty six days?), then I feel I’m not too late. If this was a one-hour meeting, I would be about a minute behind and that’s really a triumph for my standards.

So, if you came for wishes, scroll to the end of the page. They are there, waiting for you, sprouted from the surface of my heart. But before the sprouts, through the tiny holes came the bleeding. A few sweet drops of my year.

New Year's Eve in Berlin 2019

Lap 2018 around the sun, since Christ allegedly was born, felt like settling down. It’s our second January in Berlin, mine and my lovely wife Emily, and the first in five years I’m not with my head buried under thoughts of dismantling my flat, moving to another place. Well, I am thinking about moving apartments, but the thoughts don’t urge. This time it’s just a wish. In the light of so many wishes that came true in 2018, I’ll give some slack and allow Mr. Mind to exercise its patience with new or remaining ones.

We traveled, oh how we traveled. We have been to Iceland, crossing three-fourths of a cold country raised above volcanos and hot springs, through empty Martian and Saturnian roads, so gorgeous that the eyes wouldn’t believe or jade to stare. Its mountains, and canyons and glaciers and trolls guarding the coast; and the Aurora of such intensity one can swear it also holds sound and smell. Iceland takes your breath and keeps it under one-hundred-thousand tiny volcanic pyramids in the Westfjords, all from the days when hot lava and glowing rocks rained over the land – If you close your eyes you can see it all happening. It treasures it there, your breath, so you must get back to reclaim it. And you shall.

We visited the north of Italy in three. We, the couple, and Tequila (Tequila is my shaggy canine lady, of whom I’ll eventually talk about in this Journal). I’ve seen the alps for the very first time on the way there and for the second time on the way back. I conquered peaks on the Dolomites as if they were only mine, while together Emy and I conquered as if they were only ours. And Tequila had a leak on the mountaintop as if it was only hers. In Bolzano, lakes are blue as dreams would be if you dreamed of the prettiest blue. And I meditated on the edge of a rock in Cortina d’Ampezzo, only for the joy of opening my eyes with an empty mind and filling it with the dazzling sight of the Italian sun.

And we walked through the woods, so many times I can’t keep count. In Briese and in Saxony, only meters away from Chechia. On Sandstone mountain, where the rocks have been polished for centuries by careful elves and witches, who always keep them black, shiny and with a generous portion of a lively green moss on top; for that’s the way they like it.

The very last decision of 2018 was to get back to writing. After eight tracks I’ve composed and produced, tracks which are in no rush to go out in the world, I decided making music had been a hassle and it was time for a change. That was to take part in my new year’s resolutions but without a reason to wait, I started writing again in December, making it less of a promise and more of a fact. The last pieces I wrote, except for songs, are now probably 5 or 6 years old. Maybe more. Things in Portuguese, on the company of the dear Mariana Quintanilha for a lovely zine Patricia Chmielewski, the Japatratante, organized and kicked off at Feira Plana.

The year kicks in with the excitement of old creative habits getting back, dressed in a different language to be unveiled. The meanings and metrics and rhythms, all fresh and challenging, smelling like that new thing.

My 2019 started surrounded by dear friends and family, over a bridge that once divided Berlin in two, watching the fireworks in the sky and dodging the fireworks around us – for Berliners have a peculiar way of matching gunpowder and festivities.

All that said and all that bled, if you came for wishes, this journal inaugurates to send my wishes to you. It will continue throughout the year, but for now, these are my wishes:

I wish you energy. We are starting one more trip around this powerful though friendly neighbor sun aboard our crazy spaceship Earth. If we haven’t talked too much lately, know that I do see you. I do celebrate your good times and I hope the bad times were really just a few. Maybe they weren’t, and if so, have faith they will be. The world is big, but that’s one the Internet white spells: we do see each other. And to my account, there are plenty of good feelings we foster inside ourselves, just by knowing that people we like are doing alright in their lives. People that might not be around, but that we like and only wish good.

I wish you wisdom to accept and enjoy whatever comes to change. This year I’ve seen friends mutating, getting married and engaged, taking big decisions, raising beautiful children, changing careers, seeking dream, moving flats, cities, and counties (yes, all of you, I get it). They were traveling, fighting complicated battles, winning complicated battles, working out and working in, falling in love, living life in its unavoidable impermanence.

We are once again starting our trip. This might seem like the same place, but believe me, we are light years away from the last lap. It is new indeed.

My heart pounds to wish you a great ride.

Feliz ano novo.

 

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