(October 2, 2010)
A new year, a new beginning -- and we start the cycle all over again. Freshly forgiven for the transgressions of 5770 I strive to make 5771 better -- more thoughtful, less inept, more whole.
Returning to the beginning of the torah scroll makes this concrete for me; we rewind past the words of the last year to the first column, eitz exposed for the only time this year. We read -- when God began to create the heavens and the earth -- and I wonder what heavens and earths I might create this year. Is it a futile exercise destined to reveal the exact same deeds as last year, much as we will read the same words in the scroll? I choose to think that it will be different this year -- the words are the same but the reader is different, my perspective changed, and if my perspective can change, then so can my actions.
It seems odd to mark the birth of a new year while the leaves and flowers are dying. But they're not just dying; they're laying the roots and seeds and mulch for next year's rebirth. Fall is a time of planting deeds for the new year. If I'm careful now, perhaps in the spring I will see a beautiful creation with more to appreciate and less to apologize for. It is, after all, a new year, and anything can happen.
A new year, a new beginning -- and we start the cycle all over again. Freshly forgiven for the transgressions of 5770 I strive to make 5771 better -- more thoughtful, less inept, more whole.
Returning to the beginning of the torah scroll makes this concrete for me; we rewind past the words of the last year to the first column, eitz exposed for the only time this year. We read -- when God began to create the heavens and the earth -- and I wonder what heavens and earths I might create this year. Is it a futile exercise destined to reveal the exact same deeds as last year, much as we will read the same words in the scroll? I choose to think that it will be different this year -- the words are the same but the reader is different, my perspective changed, and if my perspective can change, then so can my actions.
It seems odd to mark the birth of a new year while the leaves and flowers are dying. But they're not just dying; they're laying the roots and seeds and mulch for next year's rebirth. Fall is a time of planting deeds for the new year. If I'm careful now, perhaps in the spring I will see a beautiful creation with more to appreciate and less to apologize for. It is, after all, a new year, and anything can happen.