January Is The Cruelest Month

 Writing a blog post these days seems ludicrous when the world teeters on the edge of insanity. Here’s how I am trying to offset my reactions and emotions after watching the news, and yes, I’ve been doomscrolling on social media because how can you turn away from seeing the evidence? In some peculiar way, I take comfort in knowing there are people out there who are also angry and incensed, not just at the cruelty and injustices but at those who still blindly support the perpetrators, the administration, and their lies and twisted justifications.

Okay, onto what I have been doing to counterbalance the news:

Snowshoeing. The GTA (Greater Toronto Area) and Ontario got a dumping of snow and, as the sentiment goes, you can stay inside and lament the cold and snow but there will still be just as much snow and cold, so why not go outside and enjoy it? And so I did. I hauled out my snowshoes and poles and went to a nearby park. I was completely alone as a I trudged, sticking to a track already broken in as the snow was so high it covered park benches. It was wonderfully uplifting, and the kind of tonic I needed.

Writing groups and discussions. At one of my writing groups, we were discussing the word ‘friend’ vs. ‘friendship’ and we agreed that ‘friendship’ is a weightier word. We toss the word ‘friend’ out lightly, assigning it to people who are merely acquaintances, but when we say we have a friendship with someone, we mean there is depth there, something we hold on to and value greatly.

Books. At my recent book club meeting, we discussed THE GLASS HOTEL by Emily St. John Mandel. The prevailing opinion was that the book was metaphorical and lyrical, but flat-lined with characters that seemed to float in and out, a reality that you weren’t sure existed. And maybe that was the whole point.

I picked up SUPER AGERS (Eric Topol) after seeing this post on my friend Linda’s blog, THE PRECIOUS DAYS. I’m only a few pages in but check back with me later (in 30 years?). One piece of good news I read, and which I eagerly accepted, is that despite decades of warnings that coffee poses heightened risks to heartbeat, coffee is not a hazard to health and does provide some benefits. I’ll take it! Preferably with a splash of oat milk and a cracked open cardamon pod.

My current physical read is PICK A COLOUR (Thammavongsa, Souvankham) which takes place in a nail salon. If you’re someone who frequently gets manis-pedis, you’ll want to read this one and be warned, you are going to start worrying about what the manicurist really thinks about you while tending to your toes.

My current audio book is THIS IS HOW IT ALWAYS IS (Laurie Frankel) and it is superb. If you have someone in your life who is homophobic or transphobic, you will want to force this book upon them. Odd how I heard, for the first time ever, the word hegemony (dominance by one country or social group over others) twice this week, once in this book and once in Carney’s brilliant Davos speech. If you haven't listened to it, I'd highly recommend, the book and the speech.

Painting. I’ll pull out my sketch book and do quick little watercolours, nothing noteworthy or even passably artistic, but playing with paint and colour is like walking in the snow – an immediate soother and mood enhancer.

Aussie Open. The first tennis grand slam of the year is on, and spending hours on my couch watching is my guilty pleasure for which I will not feel guilty.

Other things: Writing. I’ve been working on my novel, revising some of the structure, moving things around, even changing timelines. And I’ve been enjoying it so much. More about that later this year. Travel – always researching, still nothing booked, but there’s joy to be found in planning and anticipation. Food – Any day can be enhanced with cake. I’ve discovered a lemon-thyme cake at my local Farm Boy which I’m now addicted to.

And that’s it for January. They say April is the cruelest month, but no, T.S. Eliot, it is January, and I’m not just talking weather.

“April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.”— T. S. Eliot