With less than a week until the first day of spring, why on earth am I sharing a picture of a poinsettia? So you can join me in marveling at how red its leaves remain! This plant was gifted to me last December and I fully anticipated it would succumb to the same fate as every other poinsettia I’ve ever cared for, drying up and dropping all its leaves by Christmas. With that in mind, I plopped it down in the nearest empty windowsill (at work – not even bothering to take it home) and didn’t give it much thought. Now here we are, three months later, and its still blooming – a fact that has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the lovely indirect light its been enjoying.

So now I’m back to thinking about light and my intention for creating a luminous 2024. I can’t help wondering, in what ways might I bloom if I could find the light that’s meant for me?

I remember a director telling me once I had a knack for “finding my light” – that sweet spot in theatre when you’re fully enveloped by the stage lights. I haven’t stood on a stage in almost two decades, but I remember the feeling of warmth on my face and the way the audience disappears from view. A couple of inches one way or another can be the difference between just being “lit” to being fully illuminated. I wish I could say it was a skill I learned and honed as an actress, but it’s more like the ability to roll my tongue – just something I can do. Still, I dined on that compliment for a long time and have been thinking about it in respect to this luminous year of mine.

Some way, somehow, I’ve got to tap into that intuition and zero in on where I’m supposed to be; keep making incremental shifts – leaning into this, steering away from that – until I find it. Or maybe it’s less about limelight and more about finding my windowsill? Someplace where the light is steady and natural, but indirect? If only I had leaves that dropped or blossomed as an indicator. I guess I’ll just have to trust my gut and continue feeling my way to that sweet, sacred spot.