I’m a big fan of new years. I’ll admit it. I celebrate the new year as many times in a year as I possibly can. Growing up in a country with four officially recognised ethnic groups, I milked the multiple calendars for all they were worth. I would attend midnight mass every New Year’s Eve. I would line up for my ang bao and scarf down bakkwa every Chinese New Year. Diwali was yet another opportunity for festive fun. (One year, looking for an additional opportunity to celebrate, I attempted to appropriate the Russian Orthodox New Year. This was, however, met with some skepticism from my friends.) So the recent addition of Naw-Ruz as another new year that I get to celebrate has been a source of joy, as you might imagine.
Why the new year fixation? Simply put, I love new beginnings. I love turning a new page in the diary. I find peace in pausing for a breath and thinking about all that has been and marching forward with a plan of attack – boldly stepping into a new day.
Naw-Ruz. A new day.
Over the years, I’ve moved away from the traditional resolution-making processes relating to habits that I’d love to change but never seem to be able to e.g. “go for morning runs every day and not just when you’re trying to avoid working on an assignment”. (It’s been said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing again and again and expecting a different result. I made that resolution about regular morning runs for seven consecutive years before deciding to accept that maybe I’m just a pilates sort of a girl.)
What I’ve started to do is to, instead, think of everything that has happened in the past year and to sum that up in one word or a theme. Based on that, I think of one major aspect of my life or a virtue that I need to focus on in the following year. A spiritual resolution, of sorts.
Obligatory prayer is a funny thing. It acts a a marker, dividing our lives into units of 24 hours. And sometimes it startles you when you find yourself standing in the same spot to say the obligatory prayer that you said a day ago and then realise that a whole day has passed without you having very much to show for it. Days pass and become weeks, and then months, and then a whole year. If you’re not careful, it’s easy for your life to fly by without knowing where any of it has gone. Without making a deliberate and conscious effort to constantly re-examine your life, it’s dangerously easy to fall into idleness and stagnation.
This is probably one of the most amazing things about the Fast: it gives us 19 days to reflect on our lives and helps us unearth numerous opportunities for spiritual growth. When I think of these markers of time, particularly at the turn of a new year, I’m reminded of the following quote by Baha’u’llah:
Let each morn be better than its eve and each morrow richer than its yesterday. Man’s merit lieth in service and virtue and not in the pageantry of wealth and riches. Guard against idleness and sloth, and cling unto that which profiteth mankind, whether young or old, whether high or low.Tablets of Baha’u’llah Revealed After the Kitab-i-Aqdas
My theme for the year? Embracing uncertainty.
In a fairly recent conversation, a friend of mine pointed out my need (verging on the point of neuroticism) for definite answers – certainty; clarity; a perfect understanding of why things are happening and how they are all to unfold over the next few years. I decided that she was right and chose my virtue to practise: detachment.
So far, it’s worked wonders. I’ve found that when I live in the moment and simply try to make the right decisions in every moment, things have a way of falling into place without my forcing it. Slowly, I’m learning what detachment really means. It’s not about trying to silence pain or sadness or anxiety. It’s about understanding that those emotions are merely the natural reactions we have, as a result of our human inability to see God’s hand at work. It’s about understanding that these emotions and our frequent powerlessness to change the conditions that cause them serve as an impetus for us to be open to the possibility that things are – ultimately – working out for the best, even if we can’t comprehend how that might be the case.
And so that’s what I’m trying to remind myself over the next year. To be detached from my ego. To be detached from the outcome of the efforts that I make. To be detached from my own ideas of how things need to eventuate. Detachment. Embracing uncertainty with the knowledge that God has a greater plan and with the faith that the beauty of all things will be made apparent to me in time.
…we must realize that everything which happens is due to some wisdom and that nothing happens without a reason.Abdu’l-Baha, The Promulgation of Universal Peace
So that’s my resolution for this year.
What about you? Do you make resolutions? What did life teach you last year and how do you plan to make this year richer and better than the last? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments! Happy Naw-Ruz, dear readers!