"This is the feast of our mortality," writes Dana Gioia in a poem entitled "New Year's."  But why should we celebrate our mortality?

Washington Post columnist Michael Gerson suggests an answer. Writing last month about being diagnosed with kidney cancer (detected early enough for surgery to be helpful), Gerson writes: "I was fortunate to see mortality in the near distance.... As I awaited to learn my fate, I noticed an effect on matter - an odd intensification of physical experience. Things around you offer more friction and hold your attention longer. Commonplace things like the bumps on tree bark. The light filtering through floating dust. The wetness of water. A contrast knob is turned, revealing the vivid pleasures of merely existing."

I easily overlook those "vivid pleasures of merely existing" - the light in the sky, the taste of a cherry, the sight of a smile, or the sound of laughter.  Instead, I fret about what might be, or mourn what might have been. My vow this year is to minimize both dread and remorse, while maximizing anticipation and gratitude. As Gioia writes,

  The new year always brings us what we want

  Simply by bringing us along to see

  A calendar with every day uncrossed,

  A field of snow without a single footprint.

There are pages yet to be written, songs yet to be sung. What will your verse be?  What footprints will I leave behind each day?