To have a happy new year is to know that living is the only way of knowing you have a year and certainly the only way of insuring it is happy. I sat in the deep mountains yesterday mending an Altar, a circle made for the sure hope that our smallest grandchild, Sesame, will one day physically join in our greater family circle. I did this with my family as we each participated in the mending making. We were encircled witnessed by the most ancient of trees, a mountain stream, old moss growing on sincere earth. As we sat upon boulders and rested we spoke of the meaning of making in the midst of exquisite making, of the meaning of being in the earth, it, us, as in the beginning Eden—as being a true way to meaning. The location invited us to make which in turn encouraged meaningful thoughts and sincere conversation.
Later as we rang in the new year watching fireworks over the mountains, I realized afresh the gift of time to allow for meaningful living. Time, a new year, is a precursor to unending time, where days and years will be ancient technology, and we will muse at our infant fascination with them…and I am sure we will do it in eternal mountains with old moss, great trees and families with Sesame, gathered in new circles. Happy New Year.
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