Play of Life
As the new year begins, let us take a moment to think of how we wish to look back on year’s end.
How will we move through life’s ebbs and flows, the wins and losses, lessons and growth?
To be alive, after all, is to continually grow! I wish you a wonderful 2026.
Day one. The very first day of a brand new year. 2026 is finally here!
There is something so fresh and exciting about new beginnings: a chance to start; a blank canvas and the opportunity to create a brand new world filled with the stuff of our imagination; a slight sense of control.
What will you choose to be the story you write this year? Is it a continuation of what already began, or a completely new tale?
When I contemplate this new start, a phrase comes to mind, ‘Joie de Vivre’. Away from the tradition that puts pressure on us to set the stage for the rest of the year; perhaps a good addition would be to set an intention for how you will move through it, no matter what life throws at you?
A few years ago, I came across the concept of having a word of the year. A theme that runs through the year’s experiences and accomplishments. In many ways it seems to be more like a prayer or a wish. I remember doing it for a few years, having a theme of the year, the last of which was wisdom. I asked for wisdom, and let me tell you, wisdom did not knock on my door. No, it stormed in. Wisdom did not gently tap and wait for me to let it in, it swept right through with such force that I was left spinning. No warning letters, no memo. It was as if I had found that fabled magic lamp with a genie in it, blew off the dust and inhaled it, to unwittingly cast a spell on myself before the genie had a chance to appear and offer me three wishes. Amidst sputters of allergic sneezes, the spell compelled me ask for wisdom. Yes, I am blaming a fictional object for the turn of events I set into motion, while clearly in lack of said wisdom. And so I was gifted a solid dose of one hard truth after another, gently nudged to look within, and to eventually clean out that dusty old closet of ‘untended to’ things. It came in relentless waves that cleared one dusty shelf after another, and shone a light so bright on the mess before me, that ignoring its existence would be a fool’s task.
Wisdom was quite the teacher, and there were times I cussed out the process, times I taunted it and others I almost quit. I had not read the fine print; quitting was not a choice. So I powered through. In the midst of the storms of revelation, and overwhelm at new truths that emerged from this clever fellow, I learnt to find the beauty in the pain and the fun in the game. It was nothing short of an adventure.
In conversation with one of my favourite people, we dissected the idea of asking for the things we want. Those we think we lack or want more of. It was quickly apparent that we can set ourselves up with this idea that we know exactly what we want. What we are, in fact, asking for is the shiny exterior; the final product. Without considering what it takes to achieve that coveted prize. The peace, wisdom, joy, ease, wealth, love, whatever it is we seek. We rarely consider what it will take to get there, what the cost will be; because nothing comes for free.
More often than not, the things we want to be, will gradually emerge as we pass one challenge after another, each one holding an opportunity to test our ability to embody that which we seek. Oftentimes, we will take a while to recognise the pattern, to see that all the little tests are either getting us ready, or testing our resolve. Are we up to the task? Are you up to the task?
My friend decided to approach her hopes and dreams from a different angle, one that would soften the blow. A gentler approach that did not include asking to be a certain kind of person or to live a certain kind of life. I, on the other hand, was still deliberating on which way works best for me. Do I want to be a soldier and ask directly for something specific, for a result? Then prepare for the battle field that would surely deliver results; or trick the universe into offering these treats, without a rough and unpredictable ride? It now appears, that though I appreciate the effectiveness of being direct, (as it offers something of a crash course in achieving our goals without signing off on the package it is delivered in) maybe this time I can try something different.
This time, I choose to start by showing up the way my ideal self would. Ideal because it is a higher version than the one I am familiar with, yet it is within reach. In evaluating my previous responses to challenges, there is now a greater awareness within me, of how I can still feel empowered in my response to life doing what it does.
As 2026 begins, I endeavour to show up and to be playful. To play with life, and not wrestle with it. Can I promise to always embody this ‘joie de vivre’? Perhaps not, but when it starts to feel a little heavy, that will be my reminder to play again. When 2026 ends, I want it to find me with a playful smile, proud of how I showed up when winning and even when it seemed like I was loosing ,but I was actually learning and levelling up.
How do you want to look back on this bright and shiny new year? Let us set ourselves up for something we will smile about 12 months from now.
Happy 2026!
To a Land of Four Seasons
Moving from Kenya to Belgium has been one big adventure, with twists and turns that have shaped the last year and a half of my life. I let you in on this new chapter that has been partly, defined by the experience of four seasons. One of which, has stood out above all the rest. It is a tale of beginnings and ends. The cycle of life.
Last year in May, I moved away. Away from the city I was born and raised in. Away from family and friends. Away from two seasons into four.
I moved upwards, if you’re looking at a map. From the centre of the earth where the equator lies, to the far north of the globe. It all happened so fast. One moment, I was on a family trip so my daughter could meet her Belgian family, a month later we knew this would be our new residence.
I remember getting this sense that the wheels had started to turn. The train was about to leave the station and I had to hop in to reach the next destination. Either that, or be stuck in the middle of nowhere. The cautious part of me would have had questions, but it all happened in such an orchestrated way that not a gap was left for doubt.
It was time. Time to say goodbye, time to start anew. Possibilities, a mirage in the distance, not yet clear but brimming with potential.
The turn of events was nothing I could have conjured up in my imagination, had I tried. I have a big imagination. The only choice was to open my hands and receive this new chapter. A box wrapped in ribbon, that could only be unwrapped on arrival.
As the days and weeks went by, I started to feel the end being nigh. The famous line from Semisonic’s, “closing time” ran loops in my mind.
‘Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end’.
In conversation with friends, I would speak of this upcoming move, as a feeling of being uprooted to be repotted. A necessary part of growth, when the plant no longer fits the vessel it is in. The experience mirrored this analogy every step of the way and in deeper ways than I could have envisioned.
See, I had left the centre between the tropics, where the weather changes, but ever so slightly. You could count on sunshine, and in some seasons rain. For 2 or 3 months a year it may be cold, but most of the year guarantees sunshine and warmth. Going northward, above the tropics, was to live through the famous four seasons we read about in books. The four seasons of Vivaldi’s masterpiece. Some so unfamiliar, that words couldn’t paint a picture. You had to feel it in your body to really know what it is, this inexplicable chill.
The most shocking of these seasons, for me, was winter. One cold winter’s morning, I tried to paint the picture in my own words.
“It is so cold, it is visible. 0 degrees cannot hide in plain sight. It is a translucent, whitish fog. Like the floating drizzle of a steaming hot shower.”
Funny how steaming hot and freezing cold can sit next to each other, like a good and evil twin, two sides of the same coin. Like yin and yang.
Winter frightened me then left me in awe. An awkward, disjointed dance with little rhythm and much resistance. One moment, I was wound up tight, my shoulders reaching inward and up, trying to protect parts of me from this shockingly unpleasant sensation. A few moments later, in a cosy heated room, I looked out the window to witness the first snowfall. My first in more than thirty years on this earth. Giddy like a child, more excited than my 2 year old. Marvelling at the wonders of nature and how many of us only get to witness a small fraction of it. The next morning, as I dashed to the shops for freshly baked bread, I breathed the freshest of fresh air. Clean as a whistle, cleaner than mountain air, in the middle of the city.
I have now experienced all four seasons.
In a beautiful twist of fate, my husband and I attended a concert of Vivaldi’s ‘Four Seasons’ in an old cathedral down the street, for our fourth marriage anniversary. Listening to music made long before we were born, designed for a space with walls built to breathe the notes in and exhale polished multilayered tones. Sounds that danced delicately, bouncing in and out of the cathedral walls, rising then falling like gentle rain on a warm sunny afternoon. It was a feeling of magic, of wonder, and reverence.
Winter remains the most memorable of all four seasons. Spring might be my favourite so far. Watching it breathe life to all the sleeping giants, the trees bared down in the fall and naked in winter. It blows magic fairy dust into the earth, elegantly sweeps brushstrokes and splashes of all the colours of the rainbow.
Summer reminds me of home. My first home, Nairobi, the city under the sun. Sometimes it burns like the northern desserts that fiercely shine, reflecting the blazing, round fire in the sky.
What about autumn, you ask? Autumn is a gentle, bittersweet reminder, that all things come to an end. Even the beautiful things we wish would last forever. Endings can be both sad and beautiful. It turns the leaves from simple and steady shades of green, to fiery red, then the yellow of a soft 10am sun, before they become brown and fall off branches in sweet resignation. Autumn is a promise of more good things to come, when we shed what was.
With time, patience, and a presence in the moment; as the skies darken and the cold winds blow, the sun will soon return.
May you learn to live through life’s seasons. Those you love out loud, and those you dread and quietly whisper about. If you take the time to look closely, you will see the beauty in all seasons.