The beginning, for me, is a New Year, a new outlook. It’s a process of growth, a slow and steady progression towards a stronger soul, a stronger me.
Reflection is there at the beginning, splendid in its peak at the approach, or arrival, of fresh days ahead. Doors in my mind, and in my heart, are flung open, as I eagerly view the newly minted months stretching out before me. They are pressed clean these new months, their surface blemish free and unmarred by disappointment in self.
It can be a time of renewal.
I rather like the fact that the New Year leads directly into my Birthday month. Such celebrations, first Christmas, then the New Year, and then me. What better time to review!
Every year I am presented with, I treasure, trying always to give it the reverence it deserves.
I don’t always succeed.
Unchecked emotions, usually peppered liberally with fear, mark the pristine months I leave in my wake.
I can be—no, I am—my own worst enemy.
The months no longer whisper as they pass me by, perhaps they’ve grown weary of telling secrets to one who never listens. I should, no, I need, to pay more attention.
I lift my eyes, I’ve grown tired of examining the endless details of my worries, and there it is! I have reached Birthday number 59.
I have soft wrinkles on the underbelly of my arms now. They remind me of tiny waves skimming across the surface of a pond. The backs of my hands are spotted here and there, and those I can no longer claim as freckles. All not a surprise, but an adjustment.
I remind myself it is an honour to step towards my sixties. There are many who did not have this opportunity of age, and they too I want to honour.
It is a time of action. It is not too late.
So, I lean down and eagerly set about removing the chains that have anchored me.
I must guard my time selfishly. I must begin my work in earnest.
“I am going to change my life. I am going to do something that is important to me.” -Paulo Coelho