introspection, new year's eve, 2010

This year I grieve the loss of many relationships, the final acceptance that many good things I desire are simply not to be, that many things I have invested my heart and time in will never return the favor.

This year I gratefully receive the gain of greater wisdom, deeper gratitude for the good things that are, broader perspective on myself and my world, and clearer perception of the few relationships and activities that are worth investing myself in.

This has been a year of tragedy and miracle, reconciliation and disruption, disillusionment and clarification. Grinding despair has flashed into scintillating joy, and bright promise has faded into the greyness of tedium and dreary disappointment.

As I stand in this moment, I see that every loss throughout my life has refined my understanding of my deepest values and the basis for my personal value. I know better what I love, why and how I must love, what I can let go of and what I must treasure and preserve.

I am not on a mountain, taking a clear view of the land about me. Neither am I in a valley, with no ability to see beyond the hills surrounding me. It’s as though I have paused at a wayside rest along the path. It’s on a gentle rise above the trees and I can see where I’ve been, the path winding through and over the hills. There’s a little fresh water here, a sun-warmed stone to sit on, and I can breathe the sweet air for a moment. As I look ahead, the path turns a corner, passing amongst trees and rolling ground.

I don’t know where we’re going, but I know better than I ever have what I must hold onto and what I can leave on the ground by this rock as I rise again to walk on.

first post. what to choose?

I think the hardest thing about writing is deciding what to write about. It isn’t that there is nothing to choose from. There is everything! Looking at a blank sheet of paper is like perching on a dragon’s pile of gems, only able to pick what I can fit in my pocket.

I worry whether the piece that I choose to display will be beautiful to anyone else. When I hold up what I've carefully selected and polished to fresh, unbiased eyes, the nagging fear isn’t so much “Will they like it?” as “Will they value it?” When others value what we share I think that affirms its worth to us.

It’s unlikely that you'll value it just as I do. People rarely appreciate something in exactly the same way. But even when we’re looking at opposite faces of a gem, we share our appreciation of its beauty, affirm its intrinsic worth, and we face one another.

So I bend down and run the jewels through my fingers. I realize there is no wrong choice. One at a time, I’ll bring them out, and, when we’ve looked at them together, we’ll both be richer.

J