by Bill Tiepelman
Roar of Balance: A Lion Split by the Elements
A Roar for New Beginnings New Year’s Eve—the one night of the year when everyone collectively agrees that life is chaos, but champagne makes it tolerable. I stood at the edge of a party where glitter clung to every surface, like hope refusing to let go. My “resolution list” was shoved in my pocket, but honestly, it was more of a suggestion box for the universe: ‘Lose weight, gain money, and stop texting my ex when drunk.’ Lofty goals, considering I was three flutes of Prosecco deep and eyeing a fourth. The clock read 11:18 PM. I still had time to reflect, as people always say you should. But who reflects during a party? The DJ was blasting a remix of songs no one admitted to liking, and the bartender looked like he was seconds away from throwing a cocktail shaker at someone. My kind of chaos. “What’s your big resolution this year?” came a voice beside me. I turned to see an old friend—or maybe just an acquaintance I liked enough to vaguely remember. “Same as last year,” I said, shrugging. “Stop making resolutions I’ll fail at.” They laughed like I was kidding, but I wasn’t. Resolutions, in my opinion, are just an annual to-do list for people who will inevitably break promises to themselves by February. It’s tradition. Midnight Approaches By 11:45 PM, the party had reached the inevitable “philosophical drunk” stage. Groups of people gathered in corners, debating whether time was real or if pineapple on pizza could ruin friendships. Somewhere near the snack table, someone had spilled a drink, and another person was trying to “clean it up” by pouring more champagne on it. Ah, the circle of life. For my part, I found myself at a balcony, staring at the city lights below. The air was cold, sharp against my cheeks, and I loved it. Out here, away from the noise, I could almost feel the weight of the moment—the quiet pressure to say goodbye to one year and welcome the next like they weren’t just arbitrary lines drawn on the calendar. Time, after all, is as real as my commitment to “cut carbs.” “Heavy thoughts?” a voice said behind me. It was my friend again—or the acquaintance, whatever. They handed me a glass of something suspiciously clear. Probably vodka. “Just thinking about how this year’s ending exactly the way it started,” I said, taking a sip. “A drink in my hand and no idea what I’m doing.” “Hey, consistency is underrated,” they replied, clinking their glass against mine. “But seriously, don’t tell me you’re one of those people who hates New Year’s. It’s like, the one night we’re allowed to be ridiculous and hopeful at the same time.” I raised an eyebrow. “Hopeful? That’s a stretch. We’re all just pretending not to notice that life is basically a flaming dumpster fire on wheels.” “Yeah, but it’s our flaming dumpster fire,” they said with a grin. “And who doesn’t love a good bonfire?” The Countdown By 11:58 PM, the room was a cacophony of shouts, laughter, and last-minute hookups. The DJ counted down prematurely twice, earning boos from the crowd. Someone handed me a party horn, which I immediately lost, and a glass of champagne, which I definitely did not. The final moments of the year felt like standing on the edge of a cliff—exciting and terrifying, with just a hint of vertigo. As the countdown began, I felt the strange mix of emotions that always hit me this time of year: relief, regret, and a little bit of that stupid, ridiculous hope my acquaintance had talked about. “Ten! Nine! Eight!” People screamed, jumped, and spilled drinks with abandon. Couples leaned in for their midnight kiss, while the singles pretended not to care. Someone in the back was already crying, but whether it was from joy or existential dread was anyone’s guess. “Three! Two! One!” The room erupted in chaos. Glasses clinked, strangers hugged, and the DJ finally got the timing right. Fireworks exploded outside, lighting up the sky in flashes of gold, red, and blue. For a moment, everything felt possible. A Roar for the Future And then, in true New Year’s fashion, reality reasserted itself. Someone tripped over the speaker cables, cutting the music. The guy who’d been crying earlier was now full-on sobbing. I watched as a drunk partygoer attempted to scale the balcony railing, only to be dragged back by their friends, who were laughing so hard they couldn’t stand straight. I stayed in my corner, sipping my champagne and feeling... oddly okay. Sure, the year had been a mess. Sure, I hadn’t accomplished half the things I’d set out to do. But in that moment, watching the madness unfold around me, I realized something: nobody really knows what they’re doing. We’re all just stumbling through, hoping for the best and bracing for the worst. And somehow, that’s comforting. The acquaintance-turned-friend joined me again, holding two glasses of whatever the bartender was giving away for free. “Happy New Year,” they said, raising their glass. “Here’s to whatever comes next.” I smiled, clinking my glass against theirs. “Here’s to surviving the flaming dumpster fire.” And with that, the New Year began—messy, chaotic, and full of potential. Just the way I like it. Bring Roar of Balance Into Your Space Love the duality and power captured in "Roar of Balance"? You can now bring this stunning design into your home or workspace with our exclusive product offerings. Choose from a variety of high-quality items to match your style: Tapestry: Transform your walls into a statement of fire and life with this striking tapestry. 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