Fifteen

I don’t want to receive the “new” year surrounded by loudness, superficiality, drinking and in an environment that encourages excess and wasting.

The sole idea makes me nauseus and depressed.

Year after year it’s always a competition among “modern” countries for who can be the most obnoxious, flamboyant and wasteful in receiving the first day of the year in the Gregorian Calendar.

Gigantic fireworks are fired, polluting the air and the water over a few seconds of coloured light.

Ostentatious parties, ball dances, club raves waste energy that could power the third world countries’ poor for years are spent in less than twelve hours.

Stupid hats, whistles, sunglasses, suits, cups and other props will end up in the trash come the very first day of the year…

Most people’s first action as soon as midnight rings in is to ingest alcohol…

…and I don’t want to take any part of it.

I’d rather go somewhere beautiful, quiet, and receive the new year without knowing it’s here, listening to familiar sounds like my mother’s voice, the wind on top of a mountain, or a berimbau. The inherent aliveness of trees rocking and rubbing against one another, of animals rustling about, of birds cooing their young; and look up at the stars feeling the immensity and intensity of everything that surrounds me.

I’ll make it special in my own way.

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