A work of art is the unique result of a unique temperament. ~Oscar Wilde

Posts tagged ‘new year’

Is your list ready?

Here it is. Once again. Like clockwork. Inevitably. A New Year. There are a few more Earth days to 2016, but the world is busy planning for that moment just past midnight which we will label 2016. Is it the Westernised world only? Let us just accept that a majority of the world, regardless of the calendar they culturally follow, are thinking to some extent of their New Year resolutions, with regard to the moment that 31 December 2015 will roll into 1 January 2016.

Sure enough, on the blogs I follow, and in the emails I receive, many people talking about what they hope to achieve in 2016, how best to do so, and some are even sharing some of what they dared to wish for and did achieve in 2015.

There are the “doers” like Tony Robbins (e.g. New Year New You, although this is a video from a while ago, I am guessing that his advice would be the same today), the practical spiritualists like Slade Robinson (Bite sized goals),  the dreamers like Nina Lamy (The Pollyanna Plan) and let us never forget the totally “out there”, “taking it to the extreme”, Abraham (one site you can find them on) who are proponents of the “Feel Good” path to your dreams.

There is a constant tug of minds between the so called scientifically minded, and the supposedly opposite spiritually inclined, as well as the whole gamut of people who are sort of inclined towards one path, while also believing in the other path as well. But everyone, possibly, agrees on one thing. They all agree that all people wish for their tomorrows to be more spectacularly fun than their yesterdays.

So you have those who tell you to dream big. Write it all down. Make a list, or many. Break it down into chunks. Go hell for leather. Aim for the stars and you will at least reach the clouds.

Others tell you to go the more cautious way. Dream big, but not too big, as you may be setting yourself up for failure. Follow step one, two, three….

There are those, and these people catch the most flak, who say that ALL you have to do is to feel great. Happy. Joyous. In love with what you already have. Expect what you wish for to manifest. ALL of what you wish for. This is perhaps the most difficult recommendation to swallow. For our life experience tells us a completely different story. If we want to have a drink of water, we have to get off our backside, walk to the tap, fill out a tumbler, and drink it. Or we have to ask someone for it. Point is, something needs to DONE before something happens. No pain, no gain. We need to push ourselves to just those 2 mm over our limit to get that extraordinary life. Besides, who can remain constantly happy in the face of the barrage of “evils” that life can throw at us?

Of course, the answer to this, we hear, is that our experience has been shaped by our expectations. And so the dialogue continues. Does our expectation shape our manifestation, or do we expect what has manifested?

We are always  eager to manifest so much, right now. Our education has taught us that we need to work hard in order to get anything. I think therein lies the problem. As soon as we say work “hard” we paint what can be a joyous experience in ugly colours. Hard. Difficult. Strenuous. Sweaty. Sleepless hours. Straining muscles. Aching head. “GMMMPPPFFFFH!” Every thing that is un-fun, scary and horrible.

Let us consider, in our cynicism, that we will never achieve a hundred percent of our dreams. That it is all too hard, too distant, perhaps even too unworthy. Let us then consider whether we enjoy being bogged down by that cynicism. As we live our day to day lives entwined in the mundane, do we have to ignore all the small wonders that lift our hearts and make our spirits sing? Even in the darkest hours is there not always something that we can look to, and say “Thank you for being here, right in this moment, to remind me that all is not lost”?

Let us consider, again, what that recognition of the small beauties leads to. It leads us to feel better, and even more than that, feel good. Is there not always that chance that this good feeling will make us more attuned to the other scattered bits of magic around us? May not this awareness lead us to seek more? More feeling good, more noticing the divine in the mundane?

Death_to_stock_communicate_hands_1Does that mean that there is a possibility that, by the end of 2016, we will have reached a place of more beauty through a journey of more adventure? Does that mean that the advice of the stalwarts may actually carry a grain of sense? Or two? Why not give it a try? Why not choose a path, there are many, to our own fun? Santa has made his list, and he has delivered. Now is the time for us to make our list, and the beauty is, that the Universe will deliver. Before you argue the point, is your list ready?

 

photo credit: Death to the Stock Photos

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The Dawn

girl under tree and sunset

The last hugs were over, the last kisses fluttered, and tears brushed away. As Aara turned and skipped down the stone steps, over the gravel and into the waiting taxi, the last “bye then”, “happy adventures”, “keep in touch” blew to her in the soft breeze along with the warbling of the cuckoos, and insistent “teeya teeya teeeeeya” of the parakeets. Her suitcase was already in the boot, her directions given to the taxi driver. She slid into her seat, and lowered the window, smiling back at the bunch of people waving and blowing kisses at her from the top of the steps. The taxi whirred into life, and rolled away slowly down the gravel path, from the stone building which, along with the people, started to recede away from her.

Aara twisted in her seat, placed her knees against the back of the seat and blew back kisses through the rear window. Somewhere in the recesses of her heart there was sorrow. It was painful to leave behind those who she had worked with for the last twelvemonth. But it was low and soft, this ache. Overflowing in her awareness right now was a sense of fulfilment, of burgeoning happiness.

She looked towards the rice fields away in the East. She changed her position, and peered into the distance. Damjan had said his goodbyes early in the day, he needed to go out with the others to tend to the paddy. He was there right now, looking after the process, his voice mingling with the others as they chanted the age old words, bent over the mud, handling the saplings. She could almost picture him, his red hair flowing down his back his trousers folded up above his knees, bent over double in the ankle deep mud. That was his adventure. That, and reminding everyone in “The Borough” to keep in touch with their own adventures. This morning, he had shaken her hand, and said, as he had, a year ago to the tremulous smile that had fluttered up at him, “Welcome to your adventure.” He had no tears, no wise words of parting, just words of welcome. He had been excited to hear about her new job and opportunity, and had hastened to congratulate her, with almost unseemly pleasure. His enthusiasm at her imminent departure had seemed a little strange even after having worked at “The Borough” for a year. Why was he so happy to see her go? Aara had almost asked him that. Then her remembrance that Damjan was always happy to see progress, and never attached himself to anyone, kept her silent. It was a quality difficult to accept, in a world where love meant attachment, and loyalty meant sticking to another’s side. But one almost came to understand it, when one worked near Damjan everyday.

Aara brought her gaze back to the side of the gravel path, where the solar panels gleamed yellow and gold next to the flowering herbs that grew alongside. The very first day she had come here for her interview, Elpy had been kneeling beside one of the panels, by the side of the path, fixing it, and talking into her earpiece. Aara had assumed that she was on the line with someone who was helping her fix whatever was broken. It was only after she came back here to work, that she learned that it had probably been the other way round. Elpy had likely been helping someone else fix whatever was broken on the other side of the line. She would go about her work, speaking into her earpiece with someone who had called for her help. Anything that broke, anywhere, and the first cry that would resound would be “ Call Elpy”! Elpy, kind, patient, and knowing, would answer, always on her hands free phone, because her hands were busy fixing something else. Even while she attended to her own work, she would work her magic across the waves for someone else. Right now, though, Elpy was back at the steps waving her handkerchief wildly at Aara, though it was too far away to see if she was speaking to an absent person. Right next to her were Diar, and Enaid, still smiling and waving as well.

Diar, who saw everything. Even the tears that Aara hid so well from everyone else. The tears that flowed because she always seemed to do things wrong, or badly. The tears which also flowed when she did do something well, but there was so much more left to do. Diar, who never spoke much, but always just shimmered present right next to her, just when he was most needed, and said the exact few words that set her straight back onto her adventure. It was hard to shed tears when Diar was around. One could not help but see oneself through his eyes. In a few moments he would have her feeling like she was the best initiate that “The Borough” had ever had. She never afterwards remembered exactly what he had said, just a sense of lightness as he walked back to his tasks, and she turned to her own.

Aara could still see the bright green bow on Enaid’s head, even though she had to imagine the giant smile that went with it. She felt again the warmth of it enveloping her as it had everyday for the past twelvemonth. She whisked her scarf off her own head and waved it out of the window. “Bye, thank you, and welcome to my memories”, she said softly.

“We are almost at the main road, miss, please put on your seat belt”. The taxi driver was peering darkly at her in the rear vision mirror. Aara sat down and clicked the seat belt into place. The car turned into the main road, towards the setting sun. To Aara it looked more like a new dawn.

Picture credit: http://anime.desktopnexus.com/wallpaper/504325/

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