A new beginning is here, my friends. And a new beginning is always nice, isn’t it? Don’t we have a need for new beginnings? Every year, on New Year’s Day, we get a free fresh start. Consider the gift of it: a footprint-free path, never been walked upon, nor even breathed upon. It stretches far out in front of us, farther than the eye can see — like a world unto itself, this new path – entirely unknown: the new people we will meet, the unfamiliar places we’ll visit, the novel experiences we’ll have; even the new flavors that will dance upon our tongues are a mystery. And each of our paths are sprinkled with the glitter of possibility.
We anticipate the new, and perhaps fear it, as well. We wonder if the things we hope for will come to pass; we wonder if we will find a way to accomplish all that we long to. We wonder if the new chances we take will pan out. We wonder if we can finally be who we want to be. And for some of us, we wonder what it will be like to exist without the loved ones we lost in 2010 – in this, our first full year without them here walking the paths of earth with us. Instead, we picture them watching over us from another realm.
We wonder too if we can leave some things behind to roll about and finally be buried in the dust of yesteryear – the situations and relationships and other things that pull the life from our bones, the habits of body and mind that don’t enrich our lives, and perhaps some of the memories we’d simply rather forget.
Angling for a sneak preview of what’s to come, we find ourselves nearly blind. Being only human, we can merely speculate, imagine, and dream about the untouched path before us.
Deep in my hopeful imagination, on this first day of the New Year, eyes closed, I glimpse my path like this: a road made of silver streamers billowing out across a zillion miles of dessert.
The path is reflective: will mirror.
Will catch color in fire-red rays of sun.
Will sparkle * * * * * *
Will ripple wildly and shine
in sandy gusts of wind.
Will be found again when buried
in the inevitable sandstorms.
Will bounce the light playfully.
And above the path I hear music
--delicate but deliberate
like a triangle in the symphony--
punctuating my path.
Do you glimpse your path, my friends?
What do you see? Whatever the color, texture, and quality of your path in 2011, I wish you well as you journey boldly upon it.
