As the new year dawns, and as fellow porchers would say, there’s a whole lot of unknown waiting for us in the far horizon. Some prospects are exciting, while some are just as mundane as any day in the past year. But no matter what happens, we still carry some burdens from what we experienced in the previous year, call it battle scars if you may. Like any soldier, once the gunshots and the adrenaline dies down, what we are left with is silence, a deafening silence that leaves us peculiarly empty and at times lonely. It doesn’t matter whether it was about something good or something terribly harsh, when all things die down, you are left with a once-filled room, only to be saddened by it’s current emptiness and involuntary reminiscent feeling of a passed year full of events. Most people see new years as a blank slate, a new chapter, but from some, it means an end to something that was great. It isn’t a “half-full, half-empty” kind of thinking but sometimes when one thing ends, your being just copes up with the loss. The closest concept that I can think of is Inertia. And from experience, that kind of inertia hits hard in years when it was especially eventful.

So as King (or trying to be kingly), I am not excluded from this feeling. And as far as I know, no one is either. But as King, I realized that when confronted by a person with this feeling, the thing to do is to add stuff to their room. Heck, if you can, enter the room yourself and happy-fy the place! “Keeping the ball rolling” as some people would call it, because as long as there is something (or someone) in that room, they will always have something to remember, something that they can carry along the way. But what if I was the one with the feeling? How can I fight it off alone? The only thing to do (this is what I do anyway) is to find JOY in the things I do in the New Year. Now, JOY, for me anyway, is way to keep yourself open. When there is nothing in my “room”, I just keep the door open. Random stuff will start entering it. Little by little you have little memories that keep you going until the the big things of the new year come and change your world. Maybe joy means keeping yourself open to the little moments so you can find the happiness in them. It may be small, but it was meant to make you smile, and smiling, my dear porchers, is a good way to keep yourself happy. šŸ™‚

So to all my dear porchers. and the others who visit our porch as well, do not dwell on your empty room! open your front door! Away with our Psychosomatic Sadness (yehesss… ;p ) and on towards new and exciting, and sometimes awkward, experiences! And if you ever find your room to be empty, don’t worry, I’ll always be there to knock on your door.

Keeping his door open,