Peeking out from the maelstrom of the holidays, the New Year appears, 1-23.
And I’m still finding small shards of the afterbirth of Christmas: Wrapping paper shreds from the dogs who “helped” open presents.
Facing the new year, like the beginning of anything new, feels like it requires a big burst of energy.
Starting with the basement where holiday décor waits to be put in its place. It takes a lot of emotional energy for me to face the emblems of the holidays down there … a disorderly calendar of Easter baskets, 4th of July flags, and pumpkins hastily pushed out of the everyday spaces and left in a tumble.
Working at it for several hours on the last day of the year, we made a “meta-level” pass at restoring some semblance of order. Much awaits, however. Let’s just say it’s slow going. I am thankful my husband has less emotional connection to these things. He can throw them in boxes without needing to either smell or cry over each one, hampering the process.
Like my attempt to restore the room of a grown child who’s recently moved out. He’s off to new adventures, his future awaits! Meanwhile, his room at home contains the detritus of everything that didn’t make the cut into the back of the SUV headed for his first (small) apartment in the Big City.
New beginnings start small.
But when the sun comes through the window in the room just the right way, the smell of a teen boy still hangs in the air. Evidence of a sweatshirt left behind that needs washing and is hiding somewhere.
So many big things take lots of energy to get started, yet only give back tiny signs in return:
New Universe? Big Bang of energy. New baby? Becoming a mom takes a huge push of energy. Gardeners see the first hints of new growth only after faithfully investing seasons of energy. Same goes for finding a new job, launching a rocket, new business or blog.
Still, those initial ergs of energy are the toughest. Objects at rest tend to stay at rest. And my first instinct is Namaste in bed – and avoid the confusion, and competing interests.
(For this, Mel Robbins' simple rule works: 5,4,3,2,1.)
So to get started on 1-23, I’m hoping baby steps will do. And just a leaf of faith.
