Another year comes to an end. Tonight I shall go out with family and friends, drink and be merry, reminisce, feel a swarm of gratitude when the clock strikes 12. Another day will come along and nothing will truly change besides the fact that we’ll have to dispose those calendars that haven’t been flipped past August. Oh, and remember to change the last digit of the year every time we write a date which will take me a good two months to get accustomed to because let’s face it, I literally enjoy living in the past.

Not counting the shit storm that has hit the world in the form of rising terrorism and corruption, Brexit, the shock of a sexist and inexperienced man being voted in to hold one of the most powerful positions in the world, demonetization in the largest democratic nation, global warming and pollution reaching horrifying levels; the year I have had has been pretty decent.

I didn’t make any money but I got a lot of writing done, I achieved a reading target of thirty books, my parenting skills surpassed my own expectations; these are massive achievements. There’s a better person in me than there was 364 days ago; someone who has realized an urgency to live and learn to expand her consciousness, who plans to indulge in some serious grabbing of life by the balls in 2017, who has built a tolerance for making mistakes and translating them to experience and lessons.

I have no 2017 resolutions, I no longer believe in them and prefer to let fate dictate them along the way and trust my intuition to listen with an open heart and move my butt. These over-specific goals tend to stray one away from the ambiguous process of self-assessment.

So here’s all I want from you 2017- give me happiness, health and the strength to become the person I’m destined to be.

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