The beginning is the holiest part of every journey.
A little child has a million potential lives ahead of them. They’re like a round stone on the tip-top of a mountain peak. Whichever way they’ll roll is anybodies guess. And as that child grows into an adult, they make decisions about what to do and where to go, and slowly but surely all those possibilities they once had, they start to fossilize into footprints, photos, and stories of the past. Those potential paths become trails we’ve travelled and remember.
And that’s what literature is at the most basic level: footprints in the snow. Everybody has a story, a trail they’ve left behind them. A coyote in the mountains has slowly typed his story into the earth, over the course of years, step by step, decision by decision.
The weird beauty of life is that every single day we keep getting reborn. Every night the sun goes down and I go to “sleep” – which is a mysterious, powerful, empty kind of death-journey where nobody knows exactly what happens – and God pushes the Big Red Button that says “Reset” – and I wake up 8 hours later thinking, “huh?”
The morning is the holiest part of every day.
This is because, in the morning, your day has unlimited potential to manifest in any way imaginable. Maybe today is the day you make a big change. Maybe today is the day you ______.
Now I am not a morning person or a night owl. I am not an introvert or an extrovert. I am not an optimist or a pessimist. I am not a spiritualist or a materialist or a conservative or a vegetarian.
In fact, as of today, every label that I used to use to personally brand myself is now synonymous with the word “nothing”.
Like this: I am a nothing. I was born in nothing town, which as you know is the capital of South Nothing. I am a devout follower of nothing-ism.
Or if “nothing” is sounds too much like buddhism, we can take a page from Kurt Vonnegut and invent our own word.
I am a Furrowitz. My friends all know me as a Furrowitz person. Every year for the past 35 years I’ve voted Furrowitz.
That’s a little better. Now the labels that define me sound more like nonsense, which is what they were in the first place. Whatever I did yesterday, or for the last 50 years, has no bearing on this morning. Today is a new day. And what’s more, it’s the beginning of something.
Yo No Soy Yo
(I am not I)
-by Juan Ramon Jimenez
I am this one
walking beside me whom I do not see,
whom at times I manage to visit,
and whom at other times I forget;
who remains calm and silent while I talk,
and forgives, gently, when I hate,
who walks where I am not,
who will remain standing when I die.
Before Monday sweeps me away, and I get all caught up in the monopoly game of life, these are some things I’m going to try and remember. I’m going to laugh at absurdity when it rears it’s goofy head, instead of being afraid or reacting in anger.
I am just going to let myself be myself, calm and silent and forgiving.
This week has all kinds of potential power hidden underneath the surface, like the tip of an iceberg that’s as big as a mountain underwater.
Contrary to popular belief, Monday is not a Shit Day. It’s the holiest part of every week. I just had to walk around it, to the opposite side; from this angle it looks completely different.