A New Day

I get out of bed, feed the dogs, let them out. The morning is a purplish gray and the house is quiet. Today there is no school, so I expect to have the living space to myself for a while. Teenagers with no good reason to get up will sleep long into the morning.

In a small house, storage is at a premium. Today I will sort through our possessions, clearing out some of the past to make room for the present and the future. It is an ongoing project. Two weeks ago I filled several trash bags with unusable junk, and then several grocery bags with good things to donate. It felt good to let these things go.

It’s the end of the old year, and the beginning of the new. I always get introspective at this time. It seems natural to think about the past twelve months, what they meant to me, what I learned, and how I grew. I don’t know how many others do this kind of thing, but my guess is that a lot of people silently evaluate and then try to start the year fresh.

Life is good, I have determined. Of course, the alternative would be not living, but that is not my point. What I mean is that life is very good, lovely, precious. Even though seemingly bad things happen, and sometimes sadness, anger, frustration, and heartbreak dominate our lives for a while, we have the capacity, always, to change the way we look at things and decide not to suffer. Every moment holds a possibility for appreciation, gratitude, and grace. I am breathing, my heart beats, I have family and friends to love, and I have a mind that can decide every day to appreciate all that.

It’s not easy. The human brain and body are more suited to react in fear than to act in love. Our survival instincts tell us that we need to be wary of the huge dark monster that could be around the corner, waiting to eat us. We look for danger, try to prevent it, insure ourselves against it, and stop ourselves from living and loving because of our fear of it. In varying degrees, we deaden ourselves in the name of protection, so that we can live longer in this state of half-life and reach a ripe old age by being safe.

I have to brainwash myself to clear out the accumulated junk in my mind that cuts into my joy. Like little sticky notes attached to my gray matter, the junk messages say, “Be careful, you might get hurt,” “I don’t know if you should do that – you might fail,” “Withhold your trust – you don’t want to be made a fool,” and on and on.

My brainwashing includes taking action by forging ahead in spite of the possibility of rejection, failure, or the dishonesty of others. It’s the only way I can feel I am doing justice to the gift of my life. Of course I haven’t eliminated my fears, but I make myself aware of them and try to minimize them whenever possible. It is my life’s work, and it will continue until I take my last breath.

These may seem like heavy thoughts for an early winter morning, but they are actually the lightest of ideas. The reminder that I can replace fear with love, and caution with joy, appeals to me so much that I want to jump up and hug someone. I hug the dogs. My children will get theirs when they stumble out of their beds.

The purple light of the morning has turned to white, and my heart is full of the joy that is potential. I will greet it bravely. It is a new day.

Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on December 30, 2006