I kind of wanted to title this “day 1” again. It’s the first day of February after all. But I would be fooling myself, twisting my intended beginning and end from years to months. So here we are, “day 1” a distant concept, bopping whimsically like a will-o-the-wisp at the end of our calendars. Day 32 of the New Year makes the New Year feel a little old.
New beginnings are like chocolate truffles. I crave them, wrapped up in their shiny newness. Robed in dark shells, I wonder at the sweetness they hold inside; smooth liquor or soft mousse? New me or new you? New beginnings are like driven snow: pure, bright, quiet. New beginnings are like the dawn, arresting time to salute another day, blessing childlike hearts* with secret relief at the rising of the sun.
The only trouble with new beginnings is you have to leave all of the old things behind, at least in the new beginnings I so often dream. As I drove to the doctor’s office today, in my stream of thoughts I glimpsed a wish: that I had maintained my flexibility from when I was a wee babe. I would be grabbing my toes and doing the splits and being stretchy as stretch. My shoulder wouldn’t constantly ache. I’d probably have a kick-ass snatch.
All great things. But if true, they would negate the immense dignity that washes over me as I gain in the gym: #145 deadlifts feel light, clean and jerks at #95, overhead squats and snatches becoming easier and easier. The would preclude the humility that arrests my heart as I watch KB snatch, MttK work, L finish, MRCS teach, and A coach.
New beginnings are what we make of them. They are large when we need a clean slate; they are snowflakes when we need a little spark. I don’t need the big new beginnings as much as I did. I think it’s because my life is darn great as it is, and becoming even better.
A and I are watching the movie that originally inspired me to create new beginnings for myself, to become a force: Batman Begins.
What you really fear is inside yourself.