Happy 2023, my brilliant Cup of Coffee crew. I’ve been thinking for the last couple of weeks about this page and what I want to do with it. Last year, I used it as an interesting experiment with public writing. Could I put up a thought every single day? Could I give you something worthwhile? That was a mission which was almost perfectly executed, simply in terms of showing up. What it did mean was that there were days when I was faintly dull or slightly pointless. This was actually good for me, because it gave me a lot of valuable information about my own gremlins and my perfectionism demons and the other ‘No, you can’t’ voices in my head.
I’m not sure it was so entirely lovely for you.
So, this year, I was thinking more along the lines of wisdom and delight. I wanted to go rummaging about the glorious resource which is the internet, find you all the best ideas and quotes and ponderings from the best thinkers, and put them up here. This would be, in true William Morris style, both beautiful and useful. (I adore being useful.)
But in the end I decided this would put too much pressure on this little offering. I’d have to find gloriousness, every single day, and what if I couldn’t? I have five jobs, and one of them is expanding this year, and you know by now that time management is not my top skill. I didn’t want to fall into the trap of making a super-shiny New Year’s resolution, going full steam ahead until the dog days of February, and then running into the sand.
In the end, I decided that 2023 is going to be the Sod It year. There will be no grand theme, no soaring ambition. I’m going to give you a few lines as often as I can, and some of them will be whimsical ones of my own, and some of them will be from the greats. You’ll get a moment with the red mare, and then a shot of brilliance from Marcus Aurelius. I’ve loved being with you and I’ve been so touched by all your generosity and I want to keep that delightful relationship going.
I’ve been thinking about this new year, and what I’d like from it. I don’t believe in resolutions, but I do believe in missions. I enjoy imagining myself sitting here, at my quiet desk, at the beginning of 2024, and thinking of how I would love that to look. I’d like more regular routines. I tend to dash from task to task with what my friend Emma laughingly calls an ‘Oh, shit,’ affect. (As in, ‘Oh, shit, I’ve got forty-seven things to do and not enough time to do them.’) And my other big one is to get more sleep. I’m at that stage in life when I don’t want to waste a moment, and I’m telling myself a totally non-useful story about sleep somehow being a waste. I’ve been trying to get by on six hours when I need at least eight. I see now that sleep is the foundation of everything. I need my brain and body firing on all cylinders and I’ve got to give them both the gift of proper rest. I’d like to get into the habit of excellent old lady early nights, instead of staying up pointlessly late looking up vital things on the Google or suddenly having to read a book at midnight. Plain habits, I’m starting to see, can be the life-changers.
And here, to start the year with a bang, is a little dose of gloriousness from Marcus Aurelius. I’m a mad fan of the Stoics. I’d like to have more of them in my life this year, and this is why -
‘Everything, a horse, a vine, is created for some duty. For what task, then, were you yourself created? A man's true delight is to do the things he was made for.’