January 1, 2023
This morning I find myself pondering the strange, and wonderful worldwide phenomenon of celebrating "A New Year" (whenever it is). This human thing that we do in most every culture fascinates me more as I age, not less.
In one way this projection on time and the sun of something ending and something else beginning is kind of arbitrary, and…weird. We create a numbering system, and a calendar, then celebrate its repetition as if it is real?
And yet every New Year's Eve and Day I feel something. A moment to honor and release trials, maybe. A small place to make space for my longing and wishes for this life. However arbirary it may seem and whenever it happens, it is a birth/death ritual. AKA a celebration of life that fills some human need to practice the movement of our lives into possibility. To mourn, to hope, to pray, to visualize, to honor, to thank, acknowledging that we are being moved day to day, month to month, year to year. Together.
Humans fill these days with ridiculous and wonderful and corny things. In a way it puts our absurdity on full display. Hats and hooters? A ball on Times Square that drops (?!?!). In Colombia (where I was last year), there were all kinds of rituals: eating a grape and making a wish for every month. Running around the block with a suitcase at midnight if you want to travel in the year. Wearing different color underwear for different wishes (money, love etc). The picture above is my granddaughter Oli in Colombia joining the awesome festivities for the first time. I mean we are a rather ridiculous species, but also a wonderfully hopeful and creative one. And maybe indulging our imagination in ritual changes things.
In some cultures the New Year is very sacred. I can remember in 1980, seeing the Zen monks on TV in Japan striking the huge gongs and feeling the chill of it. Still, severe and deep as it was, it was also the theater of an arbitrary, ordinary moment.
For me, my pen and my journal, as well as fire and water have been wonderful companions for the annual moment. When I lived in New York we had a stream and a fire pit by our house. Fires, guitars, singing with neighbors, champagne and the lighting of little walnut boats for the water were part of our rituals. As I age, sometimes I meditate alone, or create something with others to support and celebrate our shared journey. I really love this created island where I can feel my gratitude and renew my faith in life.
This year we are waiting for the birth of a new family member who is LITERALLY due to be born on the New Year's Eve (still waiting but any minute). I am sure that she will carry this felt, worldwide, expectant and hopeful energy forever as part of her journey.
Wherever you are, however and whenever you do it, may you find another one or two, in body or in spirit, to say thank you to, and to renew the life that is within you. It is some strange birthright to do this. And we all share it.
Sharing an old poem below. And so many blessings for 2023
A new year comes
The vessel of longing is cracked against the side of a new ship
like every moment, really
but this one we agree to call
Different.
Suppose for one moment
there are no more births
only this one cup,
this one unfolding
spinning like a lost planet burning itself into light.
This one present where the past
and the future
rushing together from opposite directions
Collide,
forming the body and bone that is you.
Bring your full or broken cups
to this altar of creation
Speak,
Sing your praises.
by Jeanne Denney
