2017 will be better.
The old year is dying; and with it, a number of people we have loved—seemingly more this year than ever before.  There is a shift—not the much-vaunted THE Shift—a tilt in the axis, a new hollow ache in the heart where optimism used to lodge.  It hurts; but it doesn’t stop: just goes on ticking, propelling us through the painful hours, each new dislocation worse than the last.
In a word, 2016 sucked.
So how do we get through?  How do we regain our confidence, our hope, our trust in the future?
Thinking about this—after carefully AVOIDING thinking about it in a binge-immersion of Downton Abbey—I thought of Christmas 1916, and the bleak New Year of 1917.  The Great War was wiping out a generation; every convention and protocol which had seemingly held the world together had been challenged and then smashed to smithereens.  Death and depair were daily presences: nothing was sacred; nobody was untouched; and no one could imagine a future worth living.
Not unlike now.
How did they get through?  The mundane rituals of daily-ness: bathing, brushing teeth, breakfast.  Walks.  Work. Writing letters and journals.  Laundry.  Caring for others.  Volunteering.  Filling every beat with something useful, to combat the darkness and the unimaginable void.  Celebrating small, domestic victories and finding joy in unexpected places.  Deliverance was in the details, until the comforting rotation of the seasons finally released them, much altered, from the grasp of war.
So when I say that 2017 will be better, I mean it.  Not because circumstances will improve, but because WE will be more able to handle them.  As our birth charts attest, we are multi-faceted beings, stellar solutions waiting to be employed.  Like the people of 1917, we are evolving strategies, work-arounds to cope. And—like them—we WILL muddle through, and we will shine.  Brilliantly.