Chapters of the Year

 

If life can be likened to a novel, then perhaps we can look at the beginning of each new year as a chapter heading. A time to gather our present moment awareness and focus our intentions. Our lives might not have the structure and tropes of a good story, but at the very least we're most certainly the main characters of our own lives. We’re influenced by stories constantly. We’re embedded in them.

Psychologically speaking, we have no choice but to use narrative techniques and rhetorical devices to organise our lives. This organisation is key. Events during our day could be viewed as paragraphs within the larger scenes, or scenes within the larger chapters. Regardless of how we divide up time in a calendrical sense, these doorways and thresholds are of immense value experientially. They matter in terms of perception, and perception is something we cannot stop doing. It’s a consistent pursuit, whether consciously or unconsciously. During moments of wakefulness and sleep.

I use a word like pursuit rather than activity to highlight the agency and discretion we have regarding the things we perceive. It’s an easy thing to forget, isn’t it? That we have a large measure of control over the way we colour our experience with the quality of our thinking. In many ways we’re simply bearing witness to external events, and we need critical thinking to discern the truth of things playing out in front of us. But in other equally crucial ways we’re crafting the lenses through which we interpret those events from our own internal processes. Our hopes, dreams, fears, and insecurities.

The more conscious we can be of this interplay, the better equipped we’ll be to manage life’s challenges and savour its opportunities. For me, the goal of these writings is inspiration. I want to function as muse and psychopomp to those I love. My family and friends, near or far. Sometimes it hurts to admit how much we care. How deep our waters run. But there is great strength even in vulnerability. It can connect as much as it exposes. One just needs to know how to wield it.

In Roman mythology we have the god Janus, from which we get the month of January. He was famously a being of both ways. A god with two faces. One looking back into the past and the other looking forward into the future. He’s often associated with thresholds, transitions, and the secrets of time. This is a solid metaphor for how we can conceptualise our own present moment awareness, especially within the context our larger personal consciousness.

As Confucius supposedly said, “No matter where you go, there you are.” The present is everywhere, or nowhere. Now Here. But we're always navigating this eternal moment by reflecting on the past and strategizing for the future. How fluidly we achieve this balance is how we determine our own quality of life, right? Well, a big part of this qualitative appreciation is about gratitude.

In my own life I’ve found it easiest to maintain this gratitude when I can achieve a balance between genuine self-reflection, a sober and astute understanding of my past, and a hopeful anticipation of the future. This combination between a real grasp of where I've come from and where I’m headed allows me to feel at my most poised and adaptable. When I can achieve this synthesis of insight and adventure, I feel like I have real agency. I feel like an artist. Full of vitality, curiosity, and delight.

Also, I’m a sucker for happy endings. I love reading novels where the protagonists transform for the better, becoming more than they were in an emotional and spiritual sense. Self-reflection is a magical thing, after all. It makes us the audience as well as the author of our own lives. So, here’s to both reading and writing the next chapter of our lives with adaptability, intention, and skill. Fill your stories with the magic of who you really are. Live a vibrant, loving life. The ones who love you in equal measure will cherish the tales you tell.