Begin Again: January

In December, I began to feel the need to simplify my self-improvement ambitions. I looked at my kitchen table, where I keep a neat but lofty pile of my spiritual pursuits. There was my Bible, two devotionals, a half-finished collection of essays by Madeleine L’Engle, the dog-eared yellow notebook where I was slowly working on a new novel; in a basket nearby were other books I’d purchased, intent on reading. There was a tarot deck; two oracle decks. There was a plethora, in short, of ways to become ‘better’, more ‘enlightened’, more ‘spiritual’. I was becoming a little exhausted at all that choice, every morning when I sat down with my tea and had 15-20 minutes of quiet time before the day started in earnest.

“I should really go through all of this and pick the things that bring me the most joy,” I told myself.

“I should come up with a schedule for the week. Mondays I’ll read scripture. Tuesday’s I’ll do those meditations that I signed up for. Wednesday I’ll work on my novel.”

These were the thoughts I had in December. Now that it’s mid-January, my kitchen table is no less cluttered. I’ve even added new pursuits to the list: A yoga/meditation/embodiment program that intrigues but also confuses me a little bit (what does ‘embodiment’ even mean, really? Do I have to do this yoga video three times a week to heal my inner-child?). A year-long ‘Happiness Project’ where I’m told to pick new resolutions based on different themes for each month.

I still wake to a half-dozen ways I could ‘improve’ myself before the day starts. Some days, I do those improvement things. And some days ‘improving’ myself just feels like getting 20 minutes more sleep, then standing groggily waiting for the water to boil before heading to the bathroom to turn on the morning news and wash my face.

Should I clear off my kitchen table, create a blank-slate? Should we all embark on each new year in this way? Start clean? Begin, again? Or should we go the other route, creating lists of fresh endeavors, adding more to our plates, filling up our lives because they’re short, and at the end of it all, we want to be able to say, “I used up all I’ve got.”

A lot. Or a little. Abundance. Or simplicity. It can feel like the only choice.

I’m not here to tell you that I’ve found the ‘right’ way to go. Right now, in this moment, I still feel the tug to choose a side. To go downstairs and begin again in one fell swoop. Or, to plan on setting my alarm an hour earlier each morning so I can consume it all.

But beneath that tug is a quiet voice. It doesn’t have a lot of strength; she’s a timid one. Here’s what she says: “Be gentle with yourself.”

As much as I pray for clarity, I must accept that my definition of clarity isn’t necessarily God’s definition of clarity. I want answers, right here, right now. I want to know what to DO, gosh darn it all. I want one side or the other. When I really pause to think about it, that’s what all my early morning kitchen-table time is about: Seeking definite answers. In my Bible. In those meditations. In that yoga video. And if I’m being honest, I do get an answer out of those morning sessions, no matter what practice I choose. The answer is the same one every day:

“Be gentle with yourself.”

That’s it. God tells me that. My own writing tells me that. Madeleine L’Engle’s essays on faith and creativity tell me that. The oracle cards, the tarot deck, the yoga video—they tell me that, too. So, really, there’s no need to choose one thing or all the things, as long as they all lead me to the same home inside.

My Word for 2019 (yes, I even decided on a 2019 Word), is LISTEN. It means many things: Listen to more live music. Listen to podcasts and audio books that educate and inform me. Listen, REALLY listen, when people are talking to me. Listen to my husband, my family, my students, the people I serve and care for. And, it also means this: Listen to myself. That small, timid but true voice inside. The one saying that thing about being gentle.

I think it would be good if we all did this just a little bit more. When you’re aching for clarity. When you’re confronted with indecision. Listen, and I think you’ll hear God telling you to be gentle with yourself. Because life is hard enough already; you don’t need to add ‘getting it all right’ to the list.

It’s not a definite answer. That’s hard, I know. But it’s a truer, softer way of living, and we need to let that be enough.

Thanks for reading.

-Beth