By Matthew K. Weiland
January is a gloriously mundane month – and mundane in the best sense of the much-maligned word. Not boring or tedious nor droning or monotonous (like this sentence might initially appear). Rather…Enjoyably routine. Divinely ordinary. Blessedly commonplace. Beautifully dull. – No social obligations. No high expectations. No sleep deprivations. – Instead, small hydrations. Quiet meditations. Epic hibernations. Maybe some polar exhilarations. – Oh mighty Janus! Embrace us in your nothingness!!!
And this isn’t about being contrarian or ironic or rooting for the underdog – I am soooo over irony – but rather genuinely appreciating what the initial month offers, accepting it on its own terms, and making the most out of its darkness and coldness and smoldering charm. The femme fatale
January is a Zen time, when there are no expectations, and thus no disappointment. In fact, the whole month is a great reason to bail on practically anything, regardless of occasion. – No one’s counting on you to show up anywhere. No one cares if you don’t have your A-game. No cares how much you sleep. Or if you stay in your jammies all day. – There is quiet ritual and routine in January, yielding small satisfactions. Mindfully folding clothes. The warm water and soap suds of doing dishes. The sectioning of grapefruit.