In The Moment of Being

"It is calming to be at rest among those who love us"

- Cole Arthur Riley I spent the entire New Year's Day offline. It was a tremendous gift back to myself to just be present with my thoughts, with the way the Black Eyed Peas were stirred in the pot, the infusion of ingredients for the dressed-up-dressing I made, the presence of quiet and calm. Absent from my day was the endless "buy now" and "limited edition" and "watch me unbox this" noise of constant consumerism that often befalls us in the holiday season. I don't need another shirt (well, actually, I do need some thermals for the new parts of my January, but that can wait). The bombarment of ads can overtake moments of sheer joy. So, I turned it off. Yes, I made my obligatory New Year's Eve post on the sites I have to manage and did my year-end photo montage. But, in all reality, I pined for the analog days and quietness of time that was a part of my life story just twenty years ago. This was before my cousin told me about Facebook, before Twitter became the space for my writers' engagement, and definitely before my daughters hipped me to "stories" on Instagram. It was noise. And sounds from people I've never met, and likely, would never meet again. Maybe this Early Senior is being more like the Gen Z who is finding pleasure in all things "retro" and "vintage" like real cameras and flip phones. I'm in a Sankofa moment, I guess. So, off everything went, no postings of the meal I made and since I decided to be fully embracing of my African American heritage to spend a day doing what my ancestors did, I didn't feel the urge to post my plate. 2026 is a Year 1 according to those who follow these cycles. It is (come, February 17, 2026) going to be the Year of the Horse and all the final shedding of the Year of the Snake will be over. We get to emerge new. I, for one, am looking forward to it. The past decade has definitely tried me and challenged me. It was a being and becoming another version of myself, as I also challenged notions of what it meant to exist. I formed anew and in so doing, also came to terms with those parts of my life I set aside for the sake of others. One of the gifts I gave back to myself was the understanding that I am not time-bound to my dreams. At almost 62, I am starting something new in a new place and with new discoveries. My daughters and husband were my cheerleaders while I was going through the process to get to this new place. They encouraged me and assured me. So, I gave myself the gift of curiosity and wonder. In this wondering of what will be, as we pack and prepare, I am also so thankful for the time of this season with those that I love. Like so many in this world, in this country, the past year was a lot of a lot and this new year is holding onto hope. What I know is that dry bones can come back to life and songs, even in Zion, are still sweet to the One who made me human. So, off I spent the day. In the calmness of just silence, of my family doing their thing - even peaking in the pot a few times - and of just feeling the calmness. Cole Arthur Riley, in her book, Black Liturgies, made an offering for Kwanzaa that includes prayers, poems, and breathing for each of the seven days. On the final day, there was something that sat with me and that I will carry forward. She reminds us of the confidence and assurance of being present, of choosing to be fully aware and fully engaged with those who love us - whether that is natural or found family - we get to decide. In that awareness of the day and the stillness of time, I could feel myself breathe. And that is what I want for us all, to be assured of the sacredness of time, to be assured of our worthiness of rest, and to be in the places where we are loved, affirmed, and welcomed. ©2026, watching a new day. unfold