There’s a temptation to believe Spotify Unwrapped, that the time to reflect on a year is in November. Wrap it up before it’s ended. And there’s another strong pull to see the time for reflection is as some time near that cusp moment between the 31st December and the 1st January. I disagree though, because I know my own processes of internal investigation do not follow calendar dates.
In this post, I contemplate what 2024 taught me and I think about the possibilities of a new year opening up before us. I will consider my own slow arrival into 2025, and share my feelings on hibernation, renewal, and resolve as an invitation for you notice your own processes and emerging sense of what you want in 2025: what you want to welcome in.
I’ve had a month of deep rest, brought on by a virus, a low key virus with minimal symptoms, but so much fatigue. I still feel as though I’m running on reduced energy reserves, but I wonder, is this always the way? Are the viruses of winter a part of the seasonal cycle, inviting us into quietness and hibernation?
I actually wrote a Substack post draft in December on rest and reflection, but I was so far into my own silence it didn’t feel true for me to broadcast.
I made some experiments in the studio, but that was not my creative focus. My focus was on Russell Brand. In Autumn, I felt a sense of an essay I wanted to write on Brand. I’ve been a follower of Brand for years, but since the allegations of sexual abuse and rape that were brought to light through the Dispatches documentary, In Plain Sight, last year I felt as though there was something I could contribute to the wider discussion on him, by examining my own responses to him over the years. I also feel as though the temptation to ‘cancel’ what we feel a strong aversion to means that we miss out on developing deeper insight into the complicatedness of life. Afterall, like it or not, Brand has made significant cultural contributions, not least, bringing spiritual practices to wider attention. So, I gathered my thoughts together and pitched to Novara Media, who commissioned me to write a ‘long read’. My intention was to bring clear sight to emotive themes and to ask myself searching questions on what I did not see previously in his behaviour. It took me a week to write the first draft, a couple of days to evolve the second draft, and another day or so to polish up and sign off the piece. In short, it was the focus of December for me.
The process of writing involved self examination on my part. In the quietness, I journeyed inwards and unearthed my own spiritual and sexual experiences and looked at them in relation to Brand’s output. Not all of my self enquiry lived in the piece, but for a while there, I thought about our parallels and differences. The way that Brand has used his energy, positively as well as to domniate others. I thought about the instances in which I felt dominated. In order for me to generate writing or artwork, I travel the lengths of my interirority, I test out my experiences against wider ideas, so that I can bring forth a synthesis that rings true for me. But that leg work isn’t necessary for a reader or viewer. I do the work, then edit. Suffice to say, writing the Brand essay set the agenda for my December.
The finished essay was published on Monday 13th January, this week, you can read it here if you are interested. In preparation for publication, I felt really foggy about what I had written. I had a sense it was quite pedestrian, rather basic. I felt a little fragmented, knowing that something I had written was going to be published on a national news platform. As I wrote and edited I felt both a sense of commitment and intrigue around doing something new, turning my writing into journalistic-style prose, but there were at the margins feelings of doubt. Once the writing was finished, I felt distanced from it, as though someone else had written it. The date of publication was delayed. I felt emotionally suspended.
And then I received the email: the essay had been published on the website, and shared on social media. I shared the link to a handful of friends. I felt nothing. I felt disassociated from what I’d done. A sense of endings descended on me. I played on rotation three albums in which death is faced down: Leonard Cohen’s You Want It Darker, David Bowie’s Black Star, and Johnny Cash’s The Man Comes Around. I felt my darkest feelings, those of doubt, disconnection, and creative isolation. Tears rolled down my face. It was also a full moon that day and I felt as though my familiar demons of irrelevance and worthlessness were exposed anew.
Tuesday came, and my appetite for Bowie, Cash, and Cohen continued. But seeds of new thoughts revealed themselves to me. I was grieving the end of the self in me that is afraid to write, afraid to pitch, afraid of a national readership. But on Tuesday, it was no longer possible to say that it was beyond me to pitch, write, and publish in a news outlet something with nuance, self-examination, and insight on a controversial topic because I had done it. I was grieving the death of certain kinds of fears I’ve had of being seen.
As I wrestled with these complicated feelings, I read comments by strangers on Instagram and Facebook. I felt shame for trying to write something so ambitious. I felt ridiculous for trying to make sense of an impossibly messy subject.
By Wednesday though, I began to feel a sense of calm. This when 2025 began for me. I could feel the loose ends of 2024 and a sense of the journey I’d travelled through the year. It was a year defined, for me, by the phrase ‘self-determination’. Over the year I really had to learn what it means to set your own agenda and to follow through. Putting my thoughts out into the world via the Brand article was the synthesis of that journey. Wednesday too, I began to recieve positive comments from friends and those I admire on the piece. I had a feeling of resolve. I had the feeling in my body of the capacity to articulate myself on a larger scale. I searched Spotify for 80s dance songs (we were watching the tv show Rivals in the evenings) and I danced a little. I shook off my doubt.
Thursday though, brought news of the passing of David Lynch. If ever we needed a reminder, to live life in the present, it’s hearing that news of Lynch’s passing. Like many artists, I feel such a deep connection to Lynch. As I meditate the same way he does, that connection feels a little deeper.
I’m sharing my process observations with you, as an offering. Maybe they’ll help you attune yourself to the new year. Making: art, writing, life, involves witnessing and bringing together the pieces, fragments, observations, and feelings of our experiences. Creative joy is found in our own weaving together of the fragments, because these fragments, the joy, the sorrow, the doubt, and the fear, they are what we have to work with.
When we decide to stretch ourselves, in terms of what we produce, how we show up, and the new audiences we share ourselves with, it will feel daunting, overwhelming, and exposing. But that doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do.
And know that when you do push yourself beyond your comfort zone I’m cheering you on. Indeed, if you want me to be your cheerleader through your creative expansion, I’d love to help. Get in touch.
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