Each year, whether we stay awake until midnight or not, the New Year comes. It comes with a whisper or a bang, and leaves us to write the wrong year on various correspondences for weeks to come. It also comes with an invitation to take a look at where we’ve been, and to reassess where we might be heading. It’s a funny thing, really, how the year is portrayed as a capsule of time, starting fresh, “Baby New Year” showing up to escort us to a better version of ourselves, and ending old and worn out, “Father Time” bidding us adieu every December 31.
I have never been one for resolutions. They don’t make much sense to me. Whether the calendar reads January or June, it is always a good time to get healthier, be kinder, seek out and procure the things that make us more content, that bring joy or balance or creativity to our lives. Instead what I very much like to do is think about what might be next. Big picture stuff. And to set my intention in that direction. I try to do this throughout the year; a constant recalibration of where I’m heading next.
The fact is that each new year does not begin fresh and new, clear of any mistakes or disappointments. The sadness or challenges from the week or month or year before are continuing threads. Each new year and arguably, each new day within it brings us, as we are, cobbled together from every moment of experience preceding it. The trick is not in simply moving forward, free of burden. The trick is in identifying the parts of our story that can rest. That we can put down and move away from because they no longer serve us, and which we should maintain, develop and nurture. Which elements of my story or yours deserve more light, which have had none at all, and what new things do we want to adopt, to try, to stretch and grow into?
All of this of course takes some courage. It takes bravery to sit in discomfort and to understand that it holds a lesson for you; to shine light on our darkness, to share our fear or discomfort with others. It takes courage to move into the unknown, to put aside what is comfortable and cozy and to not rest there. It takes courage to show up, to be present, and to bring our truest self to the table.
Brené Brown says “You can choose courage or you can choose comfort, but you cannot choose both.” There is no promise of comfort in moving forward courageously. And there are times where we can and perhaps should choose comfort instead. Sometimes we need to rest. Sometimes we need to ponder and feel safe and to regenerate. But do not misunderstand that the resting place ought not be the destination.
Then there is the wisdom of Maya Angelou who said, “Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can’t practice any other virtue consistently. You can practice any virtue erratically, but nothing consistently without courage.” The building blocks, the aspirations–love, hope, dignity, charity, wisdom, justice. Not many among us would choose to embody any of these or other virtues erratically, but to live with consistent courage takes self-awareness and vulnerability, humility and openness. Both to ourselves and those around us. It asks us to connect always to our emotions, to honor them and to cultivate consistency between feeling and action.
And so this new year does not start in a vacuum. It is a continuing sentence, the driving melody of our evolving song. I hope that for anyone reading this, whether in a stage of rest or renewal, of comfort or courage, that the new year holds what every day can hold–the promise of what we can be. I wish you all a very Contented New Year.
“The chief beauty about time
is that you cannot waste it in advance.
The next year, the next day, the next hour are lying ready for you,
as perfect, as unspoiled,
as if you had never wasted or misapplied
a single moment in all your life.
You can turn over a new leaf every hour
if you choose.”
― Arnold Bennett
Charles says
Onward and upward!
Jose says
And a very happy and prosperous new year to you.