The first of January is another day dawning, the sun rising as the sun always rises, the earth moving in its rhythms, with or without a certain as the day of new beginning, separating the old from the new. So it is: everything is the same, bound into its history as we ourselves are bound.
Yet we also stand at a threshold, the new year something truly new, still unformed, leaving a stunning power in our hands:
What shall we do with this great gift of Time, this year?
Let us begin by remembering that whatever justice, whatever peace and wholeness might bloom in our world this year, we are the hearts and minds, the hands and feet, the embodiment of all the best visions of our people.
The year can be new ground for the seeds of our dreams. Let us take the step forward, together, onto new ground, planting our dreams well, faithfully, and in joy.Let's look at just that first paragraph:
The first of January is another day dawning, the sun rising as the sun always rises, the earth moving in its rhythms, with or without a certain as the day of new beginning, separating the old from the new. So it is: everything is the same, bound into its history as we ourselves are bound.The start of something new can often leave us breathlessly disoriented, whether it's something we think of as "good" or "bad." When we start a new relationship, decide to become engaged, get married -- each of these happy events can "rock our world" and make everything seem almost distractingly new. I remember having a hard time driving for several months after my wedding, because I' was described when I saw the ring on my finger every time I looked down at the wheel.
When a couple decides to separate, or when the divorce papers are filed, or finalized, life can take on a similarly strange and almost unrecognizable cast. So, too, when a baby is born, or a new job materializes (or an old one disintegrates), or a loved one dies, or we receive shocking diagnosis ourselves, or ... you get the point. No doubt you can offer your own examples of times in your life when everything seemed to change.
And yet your friends and neighbors still got up and went to school or work just as if nothing had happened. You had to, too. Oh, people may at first have indulged your repeated exclamations of how disorienting things were now, but after a while they seemed to tire of it. It's not unusual for the loved ones of someone who's recently died to find that their friends seem to be "returning to their regular lives" while they, themselves, are still deeply grieving. This, in itself, can throw us off balance. What is, for us, a New Day seems to everyone else to be Just Another Day.
Is this something you've ever experienced (on either side of that equation)? How have you made sense of it? What has helped you to find a center in this midst of this paradox?
Pax tecum,
RevWik
