Isn’t it kind of sweet how this time of new year— a universally imagined marking of our planet’s progress— inspires in us a pioneer spirit? We’re ready to embark; we’re gazing toward new terrain.
Onward!
Isn’t it also sweet that by February, most of us have forgotten the impulse?
I’ve lived long enough to feel the layering effect of intentions within me. Like you, I’m just another piece of ground, each bit of stratification a story of the way I played with the conditions around me. Some years, I burned. Others, I made a bountiful harvest.
We’re meant to be the archaeologists of these settlements. With all the enthusiasm, bravery, and clumsy faith of an Indiana Jones, we get to dig ourselves up and discover our treasures.
This doesn’t have to hurt.
The digging process is most easily done when we choose to take a breath and make some space. How lovely to note that the process of cleaning up is requisite preparation for Chinese New Year. And that’s coming right up. (Though, every day is an appropriate day for digging.)
So.
Take a look around you, my quiet friend. What rubbish can go? What old clothes might look good on a friend? What closeted stuff wants freedom?
Take a look within as well. Take a breath and feel the relief of softness. That easy ground may expose thoughts and ideas that crowd your mind. As you clean up your space, maybe a judgment or two is ready to go as well. Maybe even a grudge.
Discover, also, what’s been lost, my friend. Celebrate the return of old coins and memories, books to be read, and notes from first loves. Remember the importance of missions accomplished and friendships upheld. Remember your heart’s purpose and discover what’s in the way of implementing it in every moment.
Make piles. Wish the piles well. Send the piles off in peace.
Jackets and blankets can find home in a shelter. Gently worn suits may support a budding professional. Art, books, plates, and pans are well upcycled by Goodwill, AmVets, friends, neighbors.
And what of those stores of outdated thoughts, old-fashioned judgments, aching resentments?
Write these down in a letter to yourself. Consider how they formed a layer in you and what important lessons they fed. Read the letter carefully, understanding the contours of your personal culture. When you feel complete and ready, take a breath, enjoy the soft space, and send the letter to the recycle bin.
Imagine your light in this exposed, cavernous space. The seats at your table awaiting friends. Conversations without the prohibitions and expectations of eras you outlived.
Imagine new words you can sing into the clean sanctuary of the heart. Then sing! Dance and place footprints on your settlement’s new ground.
May you grow, feel peaceful, and love everyone.
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