December 31, 2025

Per aspera and astra *through the thorns, to the stars* Last night, I went to a one day choir practice where, over the course of 3 hours, me and 70 strangers were invited to disconnect from our killing devices and reconnected with our community through song. Having just relocated back to the city earlier this week, I wanted to do something communal to reintroduce myself to New York, to rediscover the magic that brought me here to begin with. Going around the room in an ice-breaker I was stunned to find out that the people in the room with me came from all over. Amsterdam, Zurich, Berlin, Belgium, Thailand, the list went on. There was a family from Russia and one of the woman didn't speak any English but wanted to come sing anyways. Through several unique movement and vocal exercises, the room of strangers began to feel comfortable, familiar. We bonded over music, and there was a sense of relief, having found somewhere warm to be on such a cold and otherwise quiet (or lonely) part of the year. One person drew attention to this and suggested the word of Togetherness for our theme. That seemed to solidify the tone for the evening. The song the choir director had selected for us was Disney's When You Wish Upon a Star. A hopeful tune, with a widely recognized first line, we were collectively surprised to find how few of us knew any of the words that came beyond the opening verse. After spending a bit of time working through our vocal parts, and layering them on top of one another, the director asked the group to sit and talk about the lyrics and what they meant to each of us. Every response was deeply personalized, but seemed to resonate in one way or another for everyone in the room. Here's one that I remember well: "At some point or another, I'm sure everyone in here has made a wish. Maybe you saw a shooting star or 11:11 on the clock or something else, but I'm sure we've all made one and asked the world for something we wanted. A wish is not religious, or political. It's human, and I find that to be a unifying thing." In our last half hour together, we ran through our song completely, making a wish each sing through. We did the song three times. The first wish we made was for ourselves, the second was for someone else, and the third was for the world. After we finished, the room was full of laughter, hugs, high fives. It was beautiful. We were all meandering about, gathering our things and saying our goodbyes, when the director had a beautiful idea. "What if we all go outside together and sing it one more time to the stars." ( and this, right here, is why I love New York City) Out of the 70ish or so people there, not a single one left early. In the spirit of Togetherness, we went out to the street, made one final wish upon a star (which could be for whatever we wanted) and sang our song out to the world. It was playful and soft and glorious and all the things. Finishing the song, I felt pure joy. It was a marvelous way to close out the 2025 year.