Beginning. /be’ giniNG / the point at which something starts; the first part; inception; initiation; outset; arising; emergence.
A few weeks ago, I burnt five boxes of old, damaged books when we decided to light our yearly burn pile, the only paper stuff in an otherwise ten-foot-high mound of cedar and spruce boughs, branches, small trees, and logs. At the end of the day, there was nothing left except for a small knoll of gray ash. Then a storm rolled through dumping six inches of snow on the ground and covering everything in a pristine layer of white.
I’ve walked down the small hill near our home to the burn pile almost daily now to view how tidy everything looks, a sudden lightness filling my chest as I exhale deliberately and quietly. I’ve always appreciated new beginnings. A time to wash away the past and start over.
Today I read through my to-do lists from 2022, crossed out those things that no longer matter, posted the top things I hope to get done in 2023 on my whiteboard, and tore up a pile of accumulated paperwork that was stressing me out. Things like the short story I didn’t finish, the incomplete application for a book marketing conference, catalogs, and coupons for things I don’t need, newspaper articles, recipes for a few awesome-looking dishes I will probably never bake, and a whole slew of unnecessary single page inspirational thoughts.
The file folder on my desk is empty except for a few items I need this week. The cleared space next to my lamp is a welcome change. A steaming cup of lavender and chamomile tea sits on a coaster depicting a summer lake scene. My whiteboard has only five items. Books are stored back on the shelves behind the printer and as I stand and look out my window, I find comfort in knowing that the best time for new beginnings is now.
“Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.” Rumi
How did you find solace this week?
© 2023. Sharon Kreider. All Rights Reserved