I’ve never really celebrated New Year’s because it doesn’t mean
much to me. It’s a relatively arbitrary date. The calendar numbers
change, but that’s all. It’s not a universal new beginning. The Chinese
New Year this year is on January 31, the Jewish New Year is on September
24, the Persian New Year is March 20, the Korean New Year is January
31, the Tibetan New Year begins on January 31 , and various communities
in the Hindu religion have different dates — January 14, March 31, April
14, April 15.
January
1 is not even the beginning of a new season or of a solar cycle such as
a solstice or an equinox. Nor is there any personal demarcation — no
black line separates the old from the new. The world is no different
today from yesterday, nor are we. We carry the old year with us because
you have the same problems, sadnesses, hopes, fears.
There is a newness to January 1, though, and that is the newness of a new calendar.
Like school kids with stiff new clothes and a satchel full of crayons, unread books, and blank paper, we are ready to set out on an adventure, trembling with both trepidation and excitement. Our new calendars have 365 blank squares. How will we use those squares? With notations of appointments and special days, of course. Perhaps with reminders of bills to pay and chores to do. But many of those days will be blank. What we will do with those blank days? Will we search for happiness or a new love? Will we recommit to an old love or strive to attain a better level of health? Will we experience new things, meet new people, visit new places, sample new foods?
I do feel that particular newness today, that hope. I’ve had marvelous adventures the past past year — going to Seattle to see Shen Yun, riding in a limousine, hiking with the Sierra Club, making new friends, attending parties and performances. I’ve walked hundreds of miles in the desert, posted 500 bloggeries, learned dozens of delightful new words (my favorite is eupathy), shared many meals, laughed untold times, and exchanged thousands of smiles. It hasn’t all been wonderful, of course, but somehow I found the strength and courage to deal with the trying times. I cried when I needed to, threw my griefs into the blogosphere, talked about (or rather, talked around) a heartbreaking family situation. And I survived. Even thrived.
And now I have 365 blank days on my new calendar. I plan on getting out my box of crayons and coloring those days brightly.
I hope your days will be filled with wonder, new adventures, and much joy.
Happy New Year.
***
Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.”
There is a newness to January 1, though, and that is the newness of a new calendar.
Like school kids with stiff new clothes and a satchel full of crayons, unread books, and blank paper, we are ready to set out on an adventure, trembling with both trepidation and excitement. Our new calendars have 365 blank squares. How will we use those squares? With notations of appointments and special days, of course. Perhaps with reminders of bills to pay and chores to do. But many of those days will be blank. What we will do with those blank days? Will we search for happiness or a new love? Will we recommit to an old love or strive to attain a better level of health? Will we experience new things, meet new people, visit new places, sample new foods?
I do feel that particular newness today, that hope. I’ve had marvelous adventures the past past year — going to Seattle to see Shen Yun, riding in a limousine, hiking with the Sierra Club, making new friends, attending parties and performances. I’ve walked hundreds of miles in the desert, posted 500 bloggeries, learned dozens of delightful new words (my favorite is eupathy), shared many meals, laughed untold times, and exchanged thousands of smiles. It hasn’t all been wonderful, of course, but somehow I found the strength and courage to deal with the trying times. I cried when I needed to, threw my griefs into the blogosphere, talked about (or rather, talked around) a heartbreaking family situation. And I survived. Even thrived.
And now I have 365 blank days on my new calendar. I plan on getting out my box of crayons and coloring those days brightly.
I hope your days will be filled with wonder, new adventures, and much joy.
Happy New Year.
***
Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.”
1 comment:
Great post, Pat, and Happy New Year to you. I used to think New Year's was important, but the older I've grown the more I see it as just another day as well. It is a time for reflection, though, and I do love the blank slate feel to a new year. P.S. we're seeing Shen Yun on the 25th!
Post a Comment