JANUARY 2024 SULLYGRAM:  You think maybe the stars are flirting with us? All those winks and twinkles? I have a hard time believing their light travels a zillion parsecs with nary a shimmer until it bumps into our dinky atmosphere. If you ask me, it’s even money the stars are all voyeurs looking to see what each of us is doing with our lives. We’re their cable TV, their Netflix in the comedy-drama of cosmic entertainment. UFOs are their flashing camera lenses jockeying for angles.  

And here we are at the trailhead of a new reality TV season. Ahead of us is the uncharted territory of 366 new days and nights – a leap year. We will never have more choice or control of a new script than we have now. We can follow the personal ruts and cues of re-runs or blaze an inspired path that calls upon all that we have learned and are capable of. Ruts are written in history and cliches but are safer than catnaps. Blazed paths promise being fully alive but may require hacking through dense jungles, crossing arid planes, scaling mountains, chancing currents to the whim of unsounded oceans, tunneling beneath terra firma, or soaring against winds and the earthbound pull of gravity into the cosmic ether itself. What are you up for? Never mind looking for a map. Flip open the calendar or your time slot in the cosmic TV Guide. No rehearsals, one take. You are live!

The first month of the journey is named after Janus the Roman god of doorways, gates and beginnings. Janus looks backward and forward at the same time. Guess you could say between the ghosts of the past (guilts) and “there be dragons” of the future (fears). Or, if you have the magical lens of a romantic idealist, then between sacred memories and golden anticipation.

What baggage will you bring along, what provisions? And what conveyance will you use? Will you travel alone? Or will you run with the herd, deafened by thundering hooves and blinded by dust? Lots of packaged tours, if you only require stamps of approval. Lots of wagon trains, crawling like ants. There are toll roads, expressways, interstates and autobahns, if you don’t care about scenery or smelling the roses. And if traveling alone unnerves you, then radios, TV, cell phones, tablets and social media can keep you linked emotionally with the masses. But if you’re an explorer, a poet or a philosopher, you may need freedom and independence in order to find your truths. Or perhaps this is a joint venture with another warm body: a spouse, a lover, a companion, even a pet.

Speaking for myself, I have no affiliations, tickets or reservations save the lifetime pass to my unconventional perspectives. I pack only my most hallowed memories and their eternal auras. They are palpable, written in cabalistic runes by the keeper of my dreams. A romantic idealist’s dreams cannot be compromised, but they are flexible. Dent them and they shape-shift, outflank them and they find an end run, tarnish them and they kindle a holy ember to preserve sacred perfection in the quid pro quos of life. Can’t remember ever not being a romantic idealist. My body swallows hard to keep down life’s poisons, but my soul, my heart, and my mind refuse to drink the acid. And the more life’s paradoxes and double standards demand outrageous conformity, the more I rely on internal realities over external appearances. Just now I see Cyrano de Bergerac’s white plume in every wafting snowflake as I journey preferred trails on my chosen means of transport – the cambered footwear of a vagabond in winter, aka skinny skis.

I may be physically unclaimed, but I do not travel alone. An inamorata is my paradox. It is my mind that records the journey, my mind that gathers and interprets the insights, my mind that imparts the magic. It’s an exquisite journey shared in luminous enchantments, nourished in thoughts and emotions, separated only by rooms and mirrors.

So, bon voyage, vaya con dios, and all good wishes on your journeys, my cherished friends and fans. Whatever your travel arrangements, may you find the journey you desire. 2024 promises much uncertainty, but if you are true to yourself, you can’t go wrong. Meet me here a year from now and we’ll compare notes about our trip around the sun.

Some photos below from journeys past and present… 

Thomas "Sully" Sullivan