Counterpoint: The technique of combining two or more melodic lines in such a way that they establish a harmonic relationship while retaining their linear individuality; Use of contrasting elements in a work of art; To set in contrast.
New Year’s is such a metaphor for new life – for change and
all that comes with. It almost seems built
into our DNA to think about what we will change in the new year, and how we
wish to change ourselves. How can we
make life new? How can we make ourselves
new? Many of us spend time making lists
and promises to ourselves and others about how things will be different or in
some cases, promises to keep putting energy into the things that are currently
working well. Maybe it’s the group
mentality of it, like the secret pinky promises between the bestest friends of
our youth, that make this particular ritual so powerful.
I wish I could say I’ve been pondering the power of new
life, but I’ve actually been thinking a lot about death lately, and find myself
being confronted with my own fear of dying alone and not knowing what comes
next. (I am tempted to say, “who knows
why,” but we all have our demons and I know mine well.) But I was lucky this New Year’s Eve to spend
the early afternoon with a group of people in their 60’s and older – all vibrant
in their own way, but dealing with their own late life issues. What struck me most that afternoon was the anecdotal
stories about friends and acquaintances who were 100 and older and of more than
sound mind, if not of whole body. Now, for
the most part, my family is fairly long-lived – especially the women – but I’ve
never really thought about living until I was 100. That’s another 62 years on this earth. Dude, that’s a long time. And if centenarians are out there looking
forward to their next days with a sense of adventure, it seems silly for 38
year old me to be so concerned with the next 5-10 years, especially since I
have absolutely no control over many of the things that weigh on my mind.
The older I get, the more I understand myself. One would think this would make life a little
easier, but it doesn’t. It only makes me
feel older and more alone. I actually
kind of miss the blind recklessness of youthful decisions – going on instinct
and just doing things because they feel right or seem like the right thing to
do without the weight or knowledge of experience poking its opinion into
things. And many times, those decisions
are right. And when we make mistakes, we
chalk it up to youth and inexperience.
Next time we will know better, and hopefully, we move on to make smarter
decisions.
But as I look into the new year, I don’t think it’s that
simple. I don’t know if there are “right”
and “wrong” decisions. There are simply
decisions, and they all come with their own set of consequences that have the
potential of affecting our lives in a myriad of different ways. Just because we choose to “do the right thing”
does not mean that everything that follows is golden. There is no path that is true north. Everything goes crooked every once in a
while, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.
There can be some interesting things growing on those crooked pathways –
things that lead us to a better understand of ourselves, the ones we long, and
the world around us.
So what do I resolve to do this year? Not sure about that. There’s nothing more soul crushing than
making promises to yourself that you can’t/don’t/won’t keep. I know better than to wish for health and prosperity
– sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just get what you get. But I think this year it’s worth making an
EFFORT – not a PROMISE, because promises just seem too absolute to me anymore –
to ponder LIFE and all its forked and crooked pathways. To ponder the possible adventures ahead –
maybe 62 more years of them – and to be hopeful and thankful for the wise souls
that we cross on those crooked paths that help us keep our perspective on the
scary stuff in our minds that go unspoken.
