I wrote a poem for myself at the beginning of this year, as I have done for the past few years. Writing a poem on the morning of New Year’s Day helps me to sort through some of the emotions I typically face at the start of a new year: expectation, comparison, a seeming lack of direction. I’ve never been one for resolutions on New Year’s Day... I tend to make resolutions each summer, and by January I am tired and ready to undo them all.
To be honest, I had forgotten about my poem for 2020, until I listened to Alexandra’s beautiful talk last week about the courage it takes to accept the unknown. This talk was particularly helpful for me, because I like to have an answer for everything. Don’t we all? It feels safe to have an answer. But there are many occasions in life where we simply cannot know what is going to happen next. Embracing this fact is, in my view, part of learning and growing into who we are meant to be. We can fight the fear of not-knowing; we can brace ourselves physically and arm ourselves with emotional shields. We can try to anticipate every turn, control everything and everyone around us in order to manage our uncertainty. Or we can lose our hope and turn to bitterness and apathy, so that we cannot feel the pain of the unexpected. As human beings, the future will always be present to us, no matter how we try to avoid it. It is our job to decide how we want to respond to the great big question of: what next?
I wrote this poem as a reminder to myself. Of how I would like to move forward into what comes next. Clearly, I had no idea of what 2020 had in store for us. There is a definite pre-pandemic glow to the first few lines. But what I’d like to offer to you comes shortly after:
“Remember:
It is enough to find your feet
Free your neck
And take the next best step.”
There is no way to know what the future has in store for us, as individuals, or as citizens of this raging world. That is ok. We aren’t meant to know.
What you need to move forward is already within you.
How would you like to proceed?
Kateri & Alexandra
In this week's lie-down, we embody the natural resilience and poise of trees, and discover our own vitality in the process.