Thursday, January 6, 2011


A friend emailed Tuesday:
Happy New Year!  Time is arbitrary, and still, this marker seems to have some potency - might as well tap into it!
I appreciated his honesty.  Time is arbitrary.  

The fact is, January 1 is just another day on the calendar.  As we toasted it in with friends at midnight last Friday, I have to admit I did not feel the potency.  Is this day a finer gift than yesterday was?  That's what I was thinking.  Why the clinking and kissing and horn blowing and firecrackers?  If we do it for this day, why not the next?  

And so I began the year...wondering why I don't celebrate every day like a fresh, new beginning.

In this first week of 2011, I have picked through the works of some of my favorite inspired writers and poets, I have reviewed old calendars, I have lit candles, I have made lists.  And still, I feel nothing but longing for a kind of hopeful spirit that greets every single day with a raised glass and a joyful heart and a determined resolve to make things new. 

Every single day.  

I have landed on this question:  Why the struggle to find celebration within me?

Me - the woman who has no unmet personal need and rarely an unanswered whim.
Me - the person who grew in the safety of a loving home in the middle of a land full of freedom and choice.
Me - the human whose only physical complaints are tied directly to personal decisions. 
Me - the being who knows real suffering mostly through the observed experiences of others.


If I can't celebrate every single day of life and breath and being on this planet, then who?

If I cannot joyfully wave big, flashy banners of hope and kindness and peace and love, I am not sure why I have been given so much to celebrate.

And so I am leaving the champagne flute on the window sill in 2011.  There will be clean water in it every morning as I greet the day.  If there seems to be nothing more fitting to celebrate on any given day, I will celebrate the clean water and remember that one in eight people in this world do not have it.

Time is arbitrary.
Our decision to fill it with hope and joy is not.
Happy New Year.

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