Today is my 37th birthday. Depending on your perspective, this date each year marks the beginning or signals the end of a year in this life. In my life. This year, more than most, I have spent my birthday in contemplation and self-reflection; taking stock of where I have been, where I am now, and most importantly where I am headed.

It is fair to say that the last two or three years have gotten away from me. I will spare you a lengthy diatribe, recounting all the contributory events and details. In part because they are highly personal, and in part, because to do so feels like an exercise in excuse making. To prattle on about the various justification I have allowed myself for not living my best life does not service the point here. Sufficed to say that I have chosen not to live my truth; I have allowed myself to repeat unhealthy cycles and resume entrenched patterns of behaviour which do not serve me mentally, physically, emotionally or spiritually.

As the sun sets tonight and I drift off to sleep, the clock resets; tomorrow is the first day of my 38th trip around the sun. I do not pretend to have it all mapped out. I do not presume to suggest that I know where I will be this time next year, let alone how I will get there. All that I have certainty about tonight are my intentions:

I intend to embrace the journey.

I intend to live my truth.

I intend to take risks.

I intend to treat my body with the respect and reverence it deserves.

I intend to listen to my heart more and my pride less.

I intend to nurture my spirit and my soul in creativity.