The last weekend of the year brings with it many doubts. And it’s only a feeling, but taking stock at the close of the year makes me feel a bit of vertigo. Remembering those who are no longer with us in 2017 and those who have not been with us for years, or questioning all the little steps that life takes are all part of that pseudo-depressive exercise that accompanies the quickly dwindling year.
Today I have the feeling that I am late to everything, including to myself; that I am incapable of assimilating that there are multiple ways to live; and that to exist and to do should be compatible. In truth, if I focus on being, I am not always capable of achieving; and if I focus on achieving, I am not always able simply to be. At year’s end, one tends to remember the things that one has done, and these moments are the ones that make us who we truly are, the moments when we are fully present and enjoy the little things. These moments are not particularly noteworthy, and then one begins to wonder whether one is focusing on life correctly, whether so much achieving allows us to just be.
My resolutions for 2018 include breaking a little on this life of endless travel (today I write from Beijing); finding more time to write on a daily basis and being with those who matter to me; and beginning to building on my old age…Ultimately, I want to find the time to spend it on what I wish.
At what moment do we lose the way and enter in this absurd universe where we are all in such a hurry to achieve? In the end, my resolution is this: to decide and focus on what truly matters and stop galloping through life. After all, 2017 is almost gone and won’t return. Time never returns. One must learn to care for it.