2014, Carousel

I was born into the Year of the Horse twenty-four years ago. Since then I have been turning through life, so young and confused and never brave. I have been afraid to be noticed in everyday life, to be observed and scrutinized. I have been suspicious of the sound of laughter more than I have been calmed by it. I have averted my eyes so much that I'm sure my eyelids fall down naturally at the sides, foreseeing a shame that could come at any time. I have kept my hands to myself. I am familiar with the linings of pockets and raised shoulders in hoods.

The horse has come around again on the carousel and I am no longer a child. It is no longer possible to live a life of childishness. This year will be mine. It is a chance to mount a new horse, to outfit myself with a new strength and to borrow confidence from others I know until my own comes rushing over the prairies. I want to be made of the spirits of wild horses. I want the bravest heart that feels every emotion and has a love for every colour. I am so tired of greys.

I want to be an explorer of this world I am in. I want to find the mythology in the modern, see beauty in blocks of weathered concrete and hear conversations in the leaves. I want to write them down. I want to take photographs. I want this to be a record of celebration. "Look," I'll say someday soon, "look how I tried, failed, tried again. This is how I became myself."

This is 2014. The Year of the Horse returns and offers me another chance at rebirth. Under the snow there is a mane of golden wheat. I dream it and I ride.

Welcome, explorers. I hope each of you remembers the wild beauty of your hearts and that you release it. I hope you follow it wherever it leads you, and I hope you'll share that journey with me. Thank you for joining me on mine.