Epiphany
Ten days into our new year I'm remembering how January is such a good blank slate on which to hang our hopes for the time to come. A lesson I've learned recently is the importance of not simply dreaming, but completing and finding peace with what came before.
I'll try to spare us all the fluffy, feel-good, yoga-esque mantras that tend to accompany such talk. New Year's Resolutions? Maybe. Pick the small steps that pave your way to a peaceful, yet brave, approach to this new time. This concept comes largely from a recent post on Superhero Journal. Thank you, Andrea for your constant inspiration.
Here are my mantras:
"Keep not standing fixed and rooted. Briskly venture, briskly roam"
"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes."
"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there."
“The soul, like the moon, is new, and always new again.”
Sadly, I can't take much credit in finding them; an artist has engraved them on jewelry. I just read them and wanted them egraved in me.
Happy New Year.
posted by Chris at 6:55 PM
1 Comments:
Why is it so easy to forget the romanticism embedded in real life? How can I constantly get caught up in the static of agendas, proposals, deadlines and projects that are my daily reality.
I've forgotten that at the end of it all, my life was and is supposed to be a book I'd want to read. Clever sayings all piled up, read over and over like mantras reinvent me. I read this post and I'm reminded.
I also forget the surprise in rediscovering yourself, like an old sweater you couldn't throw or give away. You stashed it, out of silly nostalgic apprehension. You've told yourself you might need just that very sweater one day. And here's that day; a peace found in a piece of you that, while not appropriate or adequate for daily life, is critical to the wholeness of you.
Writing is that for me. Words only read and not spoken get to live on in a different way; like ghosts for those with faith. They float and quietly disappear only to surface again if sought or by chance.
Thank you, Jessi, for reminding me again. I don't need a necklace (although I hope you get a sense of my gratitude for the simple inclination of such a piece of jewelry), what I needed most is you finding it. And, really, it's that epiphany that I want over and over.
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