I Resolve to Fight

It is the wee hours of a new year as I type one-handed in the dark silence, seeing nothing but these words on a glowing screen and the single lamp post illuminating the road outside my den. Hearing nothing but the soft click of computer keys and my own breathing. I find myself teetering on the brink of 2010 with my usual ambiguity.

New Year's Day always raises doubts in my mind about what I should feel about the year gone by, and do in the year ahead. It can be defeating to look back on last year's failures to meet my own expectations (not to mention those of others). But I abandon that exercise quickly as I prefer to focus on the invigorating newness; the expanse of days ahead, untouched and unspoiled, like a field of freshly fallen snow, so fragile and yet beckoning to be claimed by the first footprints. But I will not tromp upon this virgin year with careless feet. Instead I will choose to mark its canvas with a fusion of mindful steps and the serendipitous; laughter and silence; companionship and solitude. I will brush off the dust of past journeys as best I can and marvel at the choices and opportunities in the days ahead.

I resolve to unravel the mystery of 2010 one day at a time to discover the riches in memories to be made, lives to touch and be touched by, and wisdom to be gained and shared. Were it not for fear that lurks around each dark corner I would carelessly stride into the days ahead. But, as poorly armed as I may be, I must face the fear with faith and fight the giant who threatens to imprison me in its shadows. I must be the challenger of my foe, the conqueror of the enemy that makes me tremble and stiffen at the same time. If I will not take arms then how can I wage war against the evil of this adversary? Would I send mercenaries to wrestle for my freedom? How will others learn to fight if I remain resigned to wait for occupation by enemy forces?

I know from the past, and news from other warriors, that the combat will be hard, with no assurance of defeating the opponent. But would it be acceptable to cower, or worse, admit that I am beaten and surrender to its fearsome grip?

Forgive me for my attempt at dramatic imagery and the resulting exaggeration, but Parkinson's is a battle to be fought on many fronts. I resolve to fight in ways I can. Will you resolve with me?