It’s easy to hate a year like 2020. I get it. It’s been a terrible year in many ways for many people—collectively and personally—myself included. But to me, writing 2020 off feels like taking the easy way out.
The curveballs this year threw forced me to look harder for the good things. The little joys. And there are always the good things—sometimes they’re just harder to see. Maybe it’s hopeless optimism, or a coping mechanism, or just a focus on the positive, but it’s something that has gotten me through this year and allowed me to keep going.
At the beginning of this year, I had lived in North Carolina for just over a month. I was building a community and finding my place. I started a new (remote) multimedia position with a flower essence company. I wrote a song about the bliss of being on airplane mode, dressed up as a cloud, and performed it for an art show in a building that is now a pretzel shop. I was certified in the first level of Reiki. I started a drawing class that taught me to draw what I see, not what I think I see. I began volunteering to help run an art room for people experiencing homelessness.
When the pandemic hit in March, I turned inward, as many of us did. “At least it’s spring,” I told myself. I found myself enchanted by all the varieties of flowers and plants I had never seen before that grew in this mountain climate—rhododendron, dogwood, mountain laurel—also driven by a curiosity around the world of flower essences and energetic medicine that I had recently started to explore.
Even as the collective uncertainty of life under COVID-19 was underscored by a personal uncertainty of housing limbo and other personal struggles, I refused to let it drag me down. Instead, I built and deepened relationships with new housemates—as well as new friends through online communities—explored my new surroundings in Western North Carolina, and relished the little moments and daily joys.
In the summer, I celebrated my long-awaited 28th golden birthday, creating an art exchange project to encourage a spirit of creativity and connection with friends around the country. In the fall, I spent a week hiking and camping in Colorado with two of my best friends. And then, I finally signed my first lease in the state and moved into a new home!
The year also included some farewells—to my longtime cat son Tigger and honorary grandmother René Hammond. I feel so grateful to have had so much time with both of them.
The novelty of all the places I found myself this year + a spirit of curiosity eased some of the darkness around the pandemic for me. In the midst of so much ambiguity, I strived to find the moments of light, levity, and peace.
Here are some moments that made my year a little brighter.
