Have a great time partying it up this New Year’s Eve. You won’t see me there.
Instead of getting wildly drunk and making out with a random stranger, I’m going to do what I’ve done for the last four years: I’m skipping New Year’s.
There will be no wild parties with fireworks inside (yes, something that actually happened at one of my New Year’s Eve parties several years ago, and no, it wasn’t a good idea), I’ve taken to sharing the holiday ensconced in the woods with one of my close friends. I don’t dislike New Year’s. I generally love the idea of rebirth, renewal and all that crap. But I do think that over the years, my idea of what it means to celebrate those things has changed.
Every year my pal Rose and I plan our getaway. Since we both live in the Northeast, it usually ends up being some kind of snowy enclave with few distractions. There, we eat and drink and talk—about what we want for the New Year, about how to take the mistakes of the past year and grow from them. Rose is a little bit of an Earth mother type, so our chats are typically punctuated by ideas about what the universe is trying to teach us. How we can become stronger and better people.
Of course, we also gossip, too. It’s no fun spending all of your time in a spiritual K-hole. And we have a good time and eat too much. But the point of our annual sojourns is to cleanse the emotional palate for the coming year, and to do it in a place and space with no distractions.
It may not be everyone’s idea of celebration, but it’s a joyous time for me.