Nourish beginnings, let us nourish beginnings. Not all things are blest, but the seeds of all things are blest. The blessing is in the seed.
I have been in school for more than 50 years now. Soon I will have learned enough. Meanwhile, I live my life on what we call an academic calendar. Academics celebrate New Year's in August. So, because the rest of creation is on a calendar which begins the year on January 1, I get to have New Year's twice. Twice a year to get it right, twice a year to reflect, and make resolutions.
January, named after Janus:
"Janus is the Roman god of gates and doors (ianua), beginnings and endings, and hence represented with a double-faced head, each looking in opposite directions. He was worshipped at the beginning of the harvest time, planting, marriage, birth, and other types of beginnings, especially the beginnings of important events in a person's life. Janus also represents the transition between primitive life and civilization, between the countryside and the city, peace and war, and the growing-up of young people"
And you thought you were good at multi-tasking.
Reflecting on all this it occurred to me how melancholic New Year's can be. We get stuck looking behind us, regretting lost opportunities, unfulfilled resolutions, and time which is now gone. Except for the optimists, bless their, shiny little faces. They face the New Year, all aquiver, ready to seek and find, and share all that they savor.
There are those who say that today is the only day we have: yesterday is gone and tomorrow is yet to come. Well, yes, but the roots and buds of yesterday are there for us today, and we are planting seeds, even if we only carry them unknown on our shoes and in our hair.
So another New Year's eve. And Janus-like, I look both ways before crossing the street into 2016.
There aren't many well known New Year's songs. They all sound slightly inebriated. This one is such a song.
.
