For Auld Lang Syne

Friends ~ New Year's Eve is tonight and I know that for many, expectations are huge.  Dedication and rededication. A new turn toward health or romance or employment or address or...whatever it is that keeps you up at night because you "haven't done it right, yet". Emphasis, yours, not mine.

As I write this, I am listening to a particularly lovely jazz version of "What Are You Doing On New Year's Eve?". It's a wonderful standard but the implicit message is: Am I worthy of your attention on this most important of all nights?

When the bells all ring and the horns all blow
And the couples we know are fondly kissing
Will I be with you or will I be among the missing?

Maybe I'm crazy to suppose
I'd ever be the one you chose
Out of a thousand invitations
You received

Oh, but in case I stand one little chance
Here comes the jackpot question in advance
What are you doing New Year's?
New Year's Eve?

The weight that we give this -- let's face it --really meaningless moment is a shame. It's somewhat arbitrary and certainly, it's not the ONLY beginning to a year. Rosh Hashanah, Chinese New Year and Nowruz are fairly familiar but there are new beginnings every month and season of the year. So. So what?

So if we connect with an annual beginning - and really, why not? -- and choose to dedicate ourselves to start something, what's the problem? Here is what I see as the problem: feeling good, certainly feeling better and making improvements is fantastic but it's that issue of worthiness that I worry about.

There is a connection we make between what we accomplish and how we see ourselves, our self-worth. It can be a trap. If you start a new program on January 1 because it's January 1 you "still haven't reached....", what I hear is a start that comes from seeing yourself as less-than, rather than deserving-of. And if you slow down, stop, "fail" at that new program? What then? How will you think about yourself? Still deserving?

You...whoever you are, whatever you have or have not done, you ARE deserving. You are. Period.

On December 31, I always see articles that ask the question: What does Auld Lang Syne mean? (It's the song no one knows!) Actually, lots of us know it, and I say that as someone who is Scottish. Literally, it means "old long since" or more commonly, days gone by.

A year has gone by so it's a great choice to ring in a new one.

The chorus -- translated into English -- is the part the most people know:

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

For days gone by, friends. For the year that we've gotten through. We'll take a cup of kindness and while we're at it, let's extend the kindness to ourselves. And that is absolutely my wish, my prayer, for you.

For all: Forgive yourselves. Start with that. Whatever shortcoming you think you have, let it go. Life is too short for self-flagellation. What good does it serve? If you forgive yourself, really, then I believe you will be so much more able to focus on whatever life-adjustments you want to take on.

Since it's New Year's Eve, I won't call this an encore. We can call it our New Beginning. Let's remember that we are worthy...and yes, we CAN look for new jobs and new loves and new homes....and know that as we enter 2019, we do it knowing we fully deserve goodness.

I do and you do.

Peace.

A Seasonal Reminder: Embrace the Imperfect

Friends ~ As I write this, it is the end of the first week of December which in my world means that classes in the university where I work ended yesterday, and today begins the holy seasons of Reading Period and Finals. Students are worn down, strung out, and just basically cranky. In our region of the northeast, we recently experienced one of the wettest autumns on record: day after day of grey, dreary and miserable.

Then: into this mix also comes simultaneous secular and religious holidays. Lights are being lit at night, colors and music pop everywhere, and whether or not we are the ones who usually *love this stuff*, some years, it's just different. Maybe every year, it's difficult -- but you know you're going to be surrounded by it, anyway. So how in holy hell do we keep our heads on?

When I sit to write these pieces, I imagine you -- wherever, whoever you are -- may be feeling how I am.  But sometimes, I don't.  Sometimes it seems as though there are too many possibilities to hold it all...so I don't even try. That's when I just go with my gut. Today, I am going with my gut and what occurs to me is that whatever your age, whatever your employment status, your family structure or any other demographic you can name.... the common denominator this month is: exhaustion. 

When I see someone who looks fried and *tells* me they're fried, I try to give them the best advice I can. In the last week, I have said no fewer than three times:

There's an old Zen Buddhist saying that goes something like this: You should sit in meditation for 20 minutes a day, unless you're too busy. In that case, you should meditate for an hour a day.

This saying is both about time and NOT about time. 

I am not a Buddhist but I offer this up now because when we are exhausted -- physically, emotionally, spiritually -- some of us have the curious habit of expecting more from ourselves. Of course this isn't rational, but it's what we do, so let's take another step. Let's let ourselves be imperfect.

It's scary; I know it is. But think about this for a minute. IF you already know you are only in the first third of a month which -- let's face it - is probably going to be a marathon, don't you want to be as kind to yourself as you can? 

I can't tell you what you need to do to accomplish this -- though I will share with you that I am including this element of meditation in my life. Literally. Yes, I have multiple baskets of laundry that need to be folded -- here I am: my imperfect self -- but I am still spending an hour each night letting myself unwind and just be.  I also knit. Badly. I knit badly. When I was a teenager, someone showed me how to knit, purl, caste on, and caste off but that is my entire body of knowledge. I can't read patterns, can't understand those connected knitting needles, and I don't even try to understand how one knits with three needles at a time. I could take a class and maybe someday I will. But the point is that for me, it's been a kind of meditation. The soft, clicking rhythm of creating something is a mantra that lifts me outside of myself. So many have written about knitting in the last decade that my embrace of it sounds silly, given what others can create. BUT...that's not the point, for me. For me, it's just the doing it -- dropped stitches and all. 

So, friends, wherever you are and whatever your journeys in this darkest time of year in the Northern Hemisphere, I pray that you can let yourselves let yourselves retreat and rest. Let stuff go. The perfect *anything* is a trap. Look in the mirror, embrace the imperfect, then crawl into bed and maybe, just be. 

Peace.