Tonight when I was getting my pills ready—two prescriptions for anxiety/depression and allergies; four vitamins/minerals/supplements—I realized that as I was putting each pill in each slot in the container, I was dropping them like I do the stones when I play Mancala, which I have been playing, since I was a child. A game that is so easy, so strategic, so simple, so complex, that I would argue that it is more difficult to play the older you get. Mancala is an excellent metaphor for this life. Something so simple as picking up a handful of stones, distributing them into some holes on a board, can make a game that entertains for hours, but it is also symbolic of the ways in which we pick up things as we live, deposit them in both ourselves and other, and we hope there’s some leftover to keep close to our hearts.
Something so simple as sorting pills, can made me think about my life and what I’ve done well and not done well. When players finish Mancala, the goal is to have the most stones in your bank; when you finish life, for me the goal is to have lived well and stored up some treasures in your life’s bank. Is there a prize for finishing with the most? I watched my mom die a painful death, then I turned around and watched my dad do the same. They were in several of the same rooms at the same hospital, and neither of them made it out to die at home like they wanted. They both were rich in people, comfortable financially, and poor in health. So, watching them makes me wonder, what is the end goal? Wondering about the end goal doesn’t keep me from hoping to put as many stones as possibel in my bank. I want to die well.
Life has been hard lately. A little like Mancala is if you really try to play it well. This past year held a lot of loss for me as my mother-in-law died in April, then one of my most important friendships shifted and will likely come to an end, my dad died painfully since the hospital did not, in fact, turn off his defibrillator as he asked when he checked in and opted for hospice care, and now I am spending the holidays contemplating the end of things and hoping for a new beginning. I suppose that is what this season is for; we sit in darkness reflecting on the past and waiting for a great light in our hope in the future.
I am establishing some new patterns for myself right now, and I am appreciating the simplicity of them, while also looking forward to adding a few more things into my life that only matter to me. Basically, I ramping up the self-care for the New Year, putting my hope in God, and trying to live a kind and compassionate life. So, here are the goals for 2026:
Love more and better. Sometimes when I love, I lose myself. My goal this year is to love so well, that I don’t lose myself, and that the other person gets to become the best version of who they are as well. I lose sight of that sometimes, and try to make people be who I want them to be, but I can’t do that. Other people aren’t my responsibility. I am only called to love them.
Be more honest and vulnerable. I have a tendency to hide what I am really feeling about something, especially if I am confused by it or hurt or sad. I show anger easily—something I am working on—and I show joy easily, but I tend to not explain why I hurt or am sad to people, and I think if I can be more honest and vulnerable, it might strengthen my relationships with many people.
Move more. I plan to start swimming in the mornings before school again. I have been going to bed around 8 and waking up around 5, so that gives me plenty of time to get to the pool to get a couple thousand yards in before school starts. I also plan to start walking/running in the evenings after I come home from school.
Read and write more. When I come home from school, I’ve been turning on the Netflix fireplace and sitting with my books. I read some, I journal some, and I think about what small beautiful things I experienced that day. I’ve also been thinking about what I am grateful for each day. It’s been a lovely practice.
Practice moderation. This is true in food, exercise, time alone, time with people, and so many areas. I need to remember that a plan is a plan, but sometimes moderation is better.
Be present. During meditation, I have experienced moment of radical presence. I’d like to cultivate those into my daily life. I’d like to forget about the past and the future, and simply live in the now. One of my favorite meditations says, “Be simple and easy.” I’d like that.
Practice silence. I plan to spend three days each quarter in a silent retreat. I plan to do these at my own house without any kind of technology, reading and journaling and meditating and praying. I want to give mysel fthe gift of just existing for three days every three months. One full day per month to experience silence and solitude. Hopefully, next winter, I can plan a weekend retreat at a convent or monastery to close out the year of silence.
The year 2025 held a lot of thought about death and dying and ending, so for 2026, I want to focus on living and hope and joy. May it be so.
Reason Breeds Insanity 