Issue #58: Embracing your life as it is, right now

Adiós, amigos! Why I'm spending New Year's Eve at a Spanish yoga retreat.

I began 2023 soaring through the air – briefly, before tumbling down a flight of stairs.

It could have been worse. Nothing was broken – just lightly bruised, my ego more so. And it had been a fun night out with a close friend at Archer Street, a bar in London Soho that’s (in)famous for the occasional ad-hoc performance from musical theatre actors. I recall dancing non-stop in a pair of ill-fated Zara platform boots purchased especially for the occasion, toasting the incoming year with what was, it turns out, too much Prosecco.

But then… well, I fell down a flight of stairs. Not the most auspicious beginning to the coming year, nor a particularly fortifying experience for the subsequent winter months of January and February. The next day, as I navigated the hang-anxiety (hangover-induced anxiety) that no one warned me would characterise drinking in my early thirties, a belatedly-festive bruise blossoming from red to green on my upper thigh, I resolved to do things a little differently this year.

New Year’s Eve isn’t the apocalypse. We know – at least, logically – that it’s just another day, and that on January 1st, the world continues as it always has, albeit perhaps at a dawdling, Bank Holiday pace. But doesn’t it feel, just a little bit, like the world’s about to end when the clock strikes midnight? I remember being shocked to discover, as a child, that New Year’s Day doesn’t have to fall on a Monday (although it actually does this year). This means it really is, technically, ‘just another day’, without a special rule that insists it must come at the beginning of the week.

Annually, many of us feel a dull sadness as the year dawdles to its conclusion, and the dreaded December 31st approaches. There are enough think-pieces about hating New Year’s Eve to normalise this experience; enough anecdotal tales of let-down parties, rowing families and overpriced meals.

But what to do about it… other than simply complain? Given that so many seem to plan far in advance – at least from my London vantage point – it pays to go in with an action plan. I loved reading some of the ideas you shared, which tended towards cosy, meaningful activities: