For years, September felt like a new beginning.
Probably because in the past, it was the start of a new school year.
A blank slate.
An empty schedule.
Empty notebooks.
The anticipation of what newness those would be filled with.
The curiosity about what I would learn.
Experience.
Usually, it was never as exciting as I hoped it would be.
The newness wore off.
And life felt like it always had.
Until it was the end of December and a new year was on the horizon.
Excitement for what the new year could bring arose.
How good could it get?!
That newness wore off, too.
And the same cycle kept repeating.
Not anymore.
I still love newness.
The joy of openness, of let’s-see-what-will-unfold, of fresh experiences.
It’s no longer tied to September.
Or January.
Or new experiences.
Now, I see that each moment is fresh.
Not according to the mind, no.
The mind’s always busy trying to get away from this moment.
Onto the next!
Next is better, fresher, newer than what already is and therefore better!
But when I stopped engaging with stories of future or past, I landed in what I used to overlook:
Here.
Now.
And I saw that this moment is newer and more alive than the next.
Love,
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