On the Building of Furrows

(NEPAL, Chitwan) The reaping's a long way off. (Photo taken and edited by the author.)

(NEPAL, Chitwan) The reaping’s a long way off. (Photo taken and edited by the author.)

Those of you who’ve followed this blog for a while may have noticed my attachment to the firsts of the month.

I used to just be attached to the first of the year.

Then I got older and realized that I needed significantly MORE opportunities to start anew.

Another effect of age: I like preparing for my fresh starts. I find it hard to begin things cold turkey now (ahh, the bygone extremism of youth…). I have to carefully lay out the furrows for new attitudes and behaviors, so that when the season finally comes, I can just flow untrammeled into new funnels of thinking, and speaking, and doing, and being.

(Just to manage expectations, I’ve never actually managed to flow untrammeled, preparations notwithstanding. Whether that has to do with my tendency to resist life as it is, or, life’s tendency to resist people who resist it as it is is another question altogether.)

So, all of THIS is just about plowing the field for 2015. There’s a furrow called “writing,” another furrow called “sitting,” another furrow called “yoga,” another furrow called “mindful eating”—and a whole bunch of other furrows that have to do with the necessary logistics of embodied existence.

It’s a LOT of furrows. Which is probably why I’ve never managed (at least in the last three years) to flow through all of them consistently and continuously.

So what’s going to make 2015 different?

I don’t really know, and frankly, I don’t really care.

(Read yesterday’s blog post for my insight on life not really getting any better.)

What I mean to say is: it doesn’t matter. Let the season come when it will and do what it will. I’ve got my hands (and my cup) full building furrows.


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