In the Light of Ending

A neighbor and I exchanged seasonal greetings this morning, asking each other about Christmas.

We stopped short of any wishes for the new year. It was as if we did not trust the process, the ending of one and the beginning of another.

And who would wonder with the tumult of 2016, a year of unimaginable upheaval and relentless energy that shows no sign of stopping.

We could not think of what was safe to say, not out of a concern for political correctness—either one of us would be hard put to even define that–we were wary of what to wish.

What will change the energy?

Better to ask what will change us. How do we change the vibration of bitter divisiveness into thoughtful discourse, no matter what side of the chasm we stand.

I wish I knew, and I suspect my neighbor does, too.

It seems best to begin where we are, as we are–at an end–of a year, anyway. I always begin with the “big picture,” frequently revisiting Robert Frost’s “Fire and Ice”:

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

Working backward from the end of everything offers obvious possibilities, including the most basic, beginning.

The number of 24 hour segments—days—that total 365 are the possibilities of 2017, each its own daily slate.  

We begin with being “nailed to the present moment” (Pema Chödrön).  In that, we trust. 

Aim for Even posts offer equanimity a dose at a time. No day or dose is ever the same, even if the aim is. You may read about the origins of Aim for Even here or on this site’s About page.