Introduction by Ted Kooser: Mark Sanders, who lives in Texas, is not only a good poet, but he’s an old friend to the poetry of my home ground, working hard as teacher, editor, and publisher to bring Great Plains poetry to the attention of readers across the country. Here’s an example of one of his poems.

The Cranes, Texas January 

I call my wife outdoors to have her listen,

to turn her ears upward, beyond the cloud-veiled

sky where the moon dances thin light,

to tell her, “Don’t hear the cars on the freeway—

it’s not the truck-rumble. It is and is not

the sirens.” She stands there, on deck

a rocking boat, wanting to please the captain

Her eyes, so blue the day sky is envious,

fix blackly on me, her mouth poised on question

like a stone. But, she hears, after all.

                                                                  January on the Gulf,

warm wind washing over us,

we stand chilled in the winter of those voices.

With the turning of the year, many of us become more contemplative. We think about the past year, the future, and what we want more or less of in the coming months. Here is a collection of end-/beginning-of-the-year links I found inspiring and helpful, and that you might enjoy also:

Playing off the 12 days of Christmas idea, Laura Vanderkam has come up with “12 Days to a Happier, More Productive You.” 

Sandra at Always Well Within  has prepared a couple of free downloads here: A time-tracking log as well as a worksheet to help you review the past year.

36 Prompts to Help You Plan an Awesome 2015 from Daring to Live Fully. 

Just in case you’re overwhelmed by “have an amazing year” cheerleading, remember that “life isn’t a tidy upward achievement narrative,”—and that’s OK.

How to say No graciously—an important skill we all need. 

Disconnect, do less and be more successful!

And on a lighter note, the folks at Smartpak (no affiliation) have made a series of funny videos with the theme “If horses were people.” Here is a recent one, about blanketing, that made me laugh. (The farrier one is hilarious, too.)

I know the calendar is an arbitrary division of time, but I feel the weight of the old year bearing down on me. The weight of goals achieved and not achieved, of challenges met and unmet...the days and weeks and months of 2014 feel heavier each moment. A new year is about to dawn, and it feels like a weight will fall off my shoulders with the passing of the old year. Do you feel that way too? The endings and beginnings of this time of year feel like a good chance to shrug off the old and look forward with optimism to the new. But before I go all philosophical on you, let me just quickly review the public challenges I set for myself in 2014:

I succeeded in all three of my reading challenges—click here to see the results. I am just finishing up that last Mt. TBR book, but it will be done by the end of the month. I managed just one bingo, but I filled a number of other spaces—just not in a line! And I read all the “required” classics, and one of the optional books.

For 2015: I plan to read from my shelves again, since (surprise!) I continued to buy new-to-me books in 2014. I did end up with a small reduction in the TBR pile, but I still have many, many books secreted on my closet shelves.  I’ll also participate in the updated classics challenge here and once again in the Vintage Mystery Bingo Challenge.

30-Day Gratitude Photo Challenge

I’m so happy that I completed this challenge—it was fun, uplifting and gave me the boost I needed to take on…

31 Days of Sketching with Belle from Belle, Book and Candle starting Jan. 1. She plans to post her art on a separate blog (address to come), and I’m not sure yet how I’m going to post mine. I’m still working out the details and collecting prompts so that I’m never at a loss for what to sketch. My goal is to make sketching an activity rather than an event.

This year has been a year of emotional stress and upheaval (and dying computers and dogs going to the emergency vet), though I haven’t publicly written much about it. It was also a year of seeing old friends and family, reading good books and discovering Doctor Who. I’m grateful for the gifts 2014 has given me, but I want 2015 to feel different—less frustrating and anxiety ridden. I can’t control what happens to me, only how I react. Optimistically, I turn towards 2015, hoping for a happier and more successful year. But hoping will not make it so. If I want 2015 to be better than 2014, and I do, I will have to make some changes—in what I do and how I think. I’ll share what I learn in hopes that it will help and encourage you, too. As always, I’m especially grateful for all of you who have taken time to read my words and share your thoughts with me.

What gifts has 2014 given you? What do you look forward to in 2015?

The problem is, life wants to happen at the same time I’m busy making Christmas plans.

My challenge is to take the pressure off by doing only what is meaningful to our family, not getting caught up in what other people do this time of year (no matter how fun it sounds), and letting some of “life” slide for the time being. Not that this is news to me, of course, but I seem to need to be reminded again and again. There is no “right” way to celebrate the holidays, nor is there a “right” way to be happy. There is only the way that is right for me.

I hope you are having a joyful and stress-free holiday season! If you have time, share some of your favorite holiday traditions in the comments section below.

Introduction by Ted Kooser: I flunked college physics, and anything smaller than a BB is too small for me to understand. But here’s James Crews, whose home is in St. Louis, “relatively” at ease with the smallest things we’ve been told are all around and in us.

God Particles

I could almost hear their soft collisions

on the cold air today, but when I came in,

shed my layers and stood alone by the fire,

I felt them float toward me like spores

flung far from their source, having crossed

miles of oceans and fields unknown to most

just to keep my body fixed to its place

on the earth. Call them God if you must,

these messengers that bring hard evidence

of what I once was and where I have been—

filling me with bits of stardust, whaleskin,

goosedown from the pillow where Einstein

once slept, tucked in his cottage in New Jersey,

dreaming of things I know I’ll never see.