I’ve begun reading Three Cups of Tea, and am loving it. Sometimes I get a little lost in their writing, which sometimes reminds me of my own, ha–the same complex semantic wanderings that lead me back to the beginning of the sentence to reread it (however their writing is superbly better than mine). But it’s also a book, like The Hole in Our Gospel by Rich Sterns, that I can scarcely read without jumping up to go accomplish all of those things I’ve been storing in my heart to do. I read, jittering in my chair, suspended between wanting to read on and wanting to close the book to spring into action. I have to remind myself that much more studying and absorbing has to be done before I can produce anything. But I’m glad I have inspiration spurring me on all the same.
This is how I’m approaching this New Year, but not in relation to the year itself. I feel as though my usual celebratory nature has been pureed. My excitement for activity has not diminished, but my usual desire to make much meaning out of events has. I think that this is because I am placing much less emphasis on the symbols of change and progress, and transferring that enthusiasm towards the processes of change and progress themselves. My tendency towards signifying everything–categorizing, and parceling out moments of transformation–has waned. I’m not sure if this is a phase, or if I am beginning to learn that movement itself is what is to be celebrated. However, I am still writing on the first of the year.
What a turbulent first day, too! The weather has been constant in its violence, and transitory in its beauty. Right now, it’s clogged like a stuffy nose outside, whereas this morning, at least for a few moments, the sun shone with pensive glory through the clouds. A prediction for this year? We are all pondering what the future holds and part of me would wish to make much of this weather as a sign of the year.
But I do not wish to remain in my broody attitude, and will not curse this year the same. As a dear friend has recently said, 2010 will be a year of change from what we have known. And I strongly agree. Despite the way this last year has slipped by silently, something has changed. I’m not going to recite glib philosophies about “clean slates,” but I do hold something much stronger–that God’s mercies are new every morning.
This morning, my father sent something out that blessed me,