A New Year

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.