CRAP! January 2018, done. Stick a fork in it. Did you know eight percent of our year is already gone, like the snow and ice that fell prior to Monday?
Yup, it’s true. And, before you question my mathematical capabilities, as a highly skilled practitioner of Don Rush Math, I stand behind my eight percent calculations. If you must know, I divided one month by 12 and then 31 days by 365; both equations gave me an answer of .08+. Looks like eight percent to me. You may now call me, Don Rush, Mathmagician.
At any rate (to pull this column back on track and to what I had intended to write about), in January I like to not set myself up for failure, by not having any new year’s resolutions. Who wants to be pinned down to some random thought they had at some particular juncture in time, most likely whilst ruminating about life in the bathroom?
Nobody, right?
Instead, for the last few first months of the year while the rest of you make resolutions, I’ve found solace in searching for my “Word of The Year” (WOTY). A WOTY (which rhymes with throaty or goaty or jamokey) is a word to live by, to give direction in times of peril or confusion.
Last year (2017), I went through the office’s trusty, but dusty, Webster’s 3rd New International Dictionary, copy-written in 1961. I closed my eyes and fanned through the pages until the spirit moved me to stop. Then, with eyes still closed, I moved my finger around on the two smooth pages of black and white before me. Circling, zigzagging until my finger stopped . . . my word was there, under my left pointy digit, I slowly opened my eyes and read: Naked Bulb.
That was not much help. Aside from not being A word but two words, how can Naked Bulb guide a person in life matters? To really and truly find my word, I then enlisted she who is touched by an angel, Pam “Red” Belding. I tooled on over to her pad, let her center herself with the universe and ground herself with the earth.
She whipped out her set of cards, told me to pick some and — what the heck? I did not get A single word of the year; I got three. Responsible, Support, Self Determination.
Let’s just say, Don’s 2017 was one with lots twists and turns; some Self Determination, with tons of support — always responsible but sometimes I could be found in various stages of nakedness. (I couldn’t figure out how to get bulb in that last sentence, so sue me.)
Fast forward 12 months and I was determined to make my 2018 WOTY one of true direction. So, I switched things up a bit. I went to Pam’s first, and then to Webster’s.
Pam again centered and grounded herself, told me to cut the deck, pick three cards and what did the angels pick out for my WOTY?

Valor.

She turned the card over and it said, “Face your fear. Every challenge is a blessing in disguise, a fit that makes us stronger, more conscious, and ultimately, more alive.”
Interesting.
She turned over another card (maybe one of the three I picked — I don’t remember and never ask questions). This card she laid next to my Valor card. This one read, “Be courageous. The unmistakable touch of grace will follow us wherever we go.”

Alrighty. I think that is a complimentary direction to go with my WOTY, Valor. Cool.
Twenty-four hours later, in the office I walked over to the Webster’s. Before God and everybody else in the office, I closed my eyes, leafed through the pages and then let my finger move up and down and all around. My finger stopped in the upper right corner of Page 1,087. I opened my right eye, couldn’t see and moved my head closer, while opening my left eye, too.
Honour.

Well now, aside from the British variation, I think that word worked out swimmingly. The online version of Webster’s Dictionary had 10 different definitions of Honor (the good ol’ Yank variation) from “good name or public esteem” to “an ace, king queen, jack or ten especially of the trump suit in bridge.”
Personally, I like this definition, “keen sense of ethical conduct : integrity a man of honor;” “one’s word given as a guarantee of performance on my honor, I will be there.”

* * *

Okay, with my WOTY safely ensconced in my back pocket I can go forward with a certain sense of serendipity. I can take steps of clarity, versus walking around aquiver in a perpetual state of gallimaufry. It’s comforting to leave the hodgepodge, jumble of confusing thoughts behind.
Don’t be an apple knocker, agog at my journey. Chill! ‘Til we meet again, here’s wishing you an eucatastrophe — when any unlucky turn of events actually has a happy ending. I am a proponent of happy endings.
Email your WOTY to DontRushDon@gmail.com

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