When Things Begin

I made the transition from 2007 to 2008 in Las Vegas, Nevada with dear friends. Thank goodness for the dear friends part, since my first visit to Las Vegas did NOT impress. I suppose it had much to do with awesome levels of jet lag, but I am still stuck with the thought that Las Vegas is not an armpit city, it's more like a crotch.

Before I digress more into the un-virtues of this strange fabricated city of vices, I'd like to share my thoughts about our New Year in general.

It's always struck me as strange that we celebrate the passing of one year and the beginning of a new one in the dead of winter. "We" meaning, of course, those who celebrate on December 31 - January 1st, as opposed to September-ish for the Jews, April-ish for the Thai Buddhists and February-ish for the Chinese.

To me our New Year feels like a still and dark and dead time, with not much newness stirring atall, but this year I got it. Things appear to begin in a time like Spring, when fruiting and flowering and blossoming are obvious and generous indications of something amazing afoot! But this is not when things begin. Things begin in the dark and quiet of a womb, of a deep patch of soil. Things begin with the dormant seed's first struggle to become un-dormant, to turn potential energy into actualized energy. Things begin in winter, literally and metaphorically; and they begin at the time when we have no proof, only uncertainty and query.

New things start in the cold and dark of deep sleep, with a tiny, imperceptible spark of fire and flash.

I love this. And I love listening to the giant quiet of winter, listening for the tremors of beginnings I can't quite see, can barely detect, but now - after many seasons of doubt - trust.