[from zd/2016/1214.sabbatical_2nd_week]
There are (at least) two new years, you know. The true new year is the winter solstice. And then there is the calendar new year, which is the one we make a big deal about. We want it to be magical and perfect and it's almost always a let down.
The former is the one that matters more to me. The other is a cultural artifact that's significant only because we choose to believe it's significant. The solstice is measurable, a physical reality. "January 1st" is just an idea, though a persistent one, one that there's no sense in fighting.
So I make something of a compromise. These days, I try to keep things really quiet from the solstice through January 1st. I take my writing sabbatical. I disengage as much as I can from the holidays without hurting feelings. And though the baby that is the new year was born on the solstice, I try to just let it sleep until we flip the calendar. Put another way: this year's sabbatical theme is "putting things down." Already I'm thinking of what I'm going to pick back up. I can't really help it, but for now I try to let that stuff go. "Shhh," I say to myself. "You're going to wake the baby."
But I really can let it sleep for a while. The baby will wake up soon enough.