The Beginning is Now
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The beginning is now,
and will always be….
There’s another train.
There always is.
Maybe the next one is yours.
Get up and climb aboard
another train.
—Pete Morton
The first time I heard those words was in seminary. I’d just agreed to sing with a newly formed a cappella group, and this song, Another Train, was on the practice CD I’d been sent home with after our first rehearsal. Thinking back, I’d guess I played it at least a hundred times the first few days I had it in my possession—in the shower, on my way to classes, when I went for walks, even when I was washing dishes at the sink and doing my laundry. I nearly drove my housemates crazy, but there was something about the lyrics that really grabbed me.
The words echoed—or maybe amplified is the better word—a feeling I knew well: a kind of sadness and hopefulness that lived inside me. The words in the song expressed a longing I recognized as my own at that time: a kind of hope or faith that I wanted to hang onto, the confidence to believe that somehow, regardless of whatever has come before—whatever heartbreak or loss or disappointment we have known in our lives—we can move on. We can allow our experience to shape us, yes, but not to hold us back or keep us from taking chances again.
This song said to me that despite whatever we’ve done, forgiveness is possible; that beginning again is possible; that setting out and charting a new direction in our lives is possible; that however difficult or scary or overwhelming it may seem, change is, in fact, always possible. The beginning is now, and will always be….
Kathleen McTigue writes:
The first of January is another day dawning, the sun rising as the sun always does, the earth moving in its rhythms…. Yet also we stand at a threshold, the new year something truly new, still unformed, leaving a stunning power in our hands.
As the old year dies and the new one begins, we have the opportunity to be mindful of this threshold and to take time to reflect on the past year, to remember what it held for us, good and bad.
In my work and ministry with hospice, I’ve learned to listen closely to what people say about their lives and their experience, knowing that it often has a lot to teach me about living my own life. People wrestling with a serious or terminal illness are often very aware of what matters, and what’s most meaningful in their lives. For some, this awareness ushers in a sense of gratitude for all they’ve had—for their children and grandchildren, for the long life they’ve been fortunate to live, even in spite of difficulties they’ve known.
For others, facing death and seeing more clearly what matters includes wrestling with regrets they still carry—hidden sadnesses about the choices they made or remorse they feel about broken or cut-off relationships. For most of us, taking time to look back and to look ahead will likely involve both acknowledging our thanks for the blessings we’ve known and also admitting and facing somehow the sorrows and regrets we carry.
Bronnie Ware is an Australian woman who worked for many years with people receiving palliative care, providing medical care and support that seeks to keep them comfortable as they near the end of life. In an article that’s been widely circulated, Ware identifies five regrets that dying people most often shared with her as she cared for them in those last few weeks of their lives. In honor of the New Year, I offer them as “food for thought,” particularly as you consider the decisions, goals and intentions you hold for yourself and your loved ones in this year to come:
The first, most common, of all regrets she heard sounded like this: “I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.” How many dreams, I wonder, have gone unfulfilled in your life to date? How can you, or might you, honor some of them still? I’m reminded of a poem by May Sarton that begins, “Now I become myself. It’s taken / Time, many years and places; / I have been dissolved and shaken, / Worn other people’s faces….” What does it mean in your life to be true to who you are in this moment?
The second regret Ware identified was: “I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.” How good are you at balancing the demands of your work and the needs of your family? How much time in the day do you claim for your kids or for your partner? In what ways might you simplify things and make it easier to align your time with the people and engagements you love? I wish I hadn’t worked so hard… It’s good to remember this, and to imagine, on the threshold of the new year, how you might choose to live and work differently, or even work less.
A third regret identified had to do again with being true to oneself: “I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.” Too often our inclination or conditioning is to suppress our feelings in order to keep the peace—a habit that can, and too often does, leave us feeling sick to our stomach, or bitter and resentful toward others. What would it be like to say how you feel, or to reveal what you really think? Speaking honestly with people can change your relationship with them, and offers the best chance you or I have of ever making and creating healthier relationships, daring to let go of those that aren’t any good for us anyway.
The fourth regret people shared with Ware also had to do with relationships: “I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.” When faced with the reality of one’s imminent death, the relationships we’ve had and the love we’ve known and shared often becomes most important. When we get caught up in the business of life and work, we easily lose track of these relationships. Who do you want to reach out to and invite back into your life? What legacy of love are you mindful of wanting to create?
The fifth and final regret identified in that article had to do with being content and satisfied with one’s life: “I wish that I had let myself be happier.” Implicit in this statement is the suggestion that happiness is a choice we can make: that happiness becomes possible when we choose to appreciate what we have, and to act on what we know is right and good. Happiness, in any real sense, becomes possible when we’re aware of our attitude, when we’re willing to step outside of our usual comfort zones, daring to be more authentic, aware and appreciative of the parts of our lives that truly matter.
The question, on this cusp of the new year, is how will we learn to grow through all the days of our lives—bruised up at times, but also seasoned and made more wise through our experience.
There’s a famous story from The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying that resonates with me when I think about how any real change happens in our lives—changes that are more lasting than any single resolution made in haste this time of year. These changes come about as the result of a longer process of beginning, and faltering, and trying again when we stumble. The story is told by Portia Nelson who writes it as an “Autobiography in Five Chapters.” Imagine this, perhaps as your own autobiography at some point in time.
1) I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost…. I am hopeless. It isn’t my fault. It takes forever to find a way out.
2) I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don’t see it. I fall in again. I can’t believe I’m in the same place. But it isn’t my fault. It still takes a long time to get out.
3) I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it there. I still fall in… It’s a habit. My eyes are open now. I know where I am. It is my fault. I get out immediately.
4) I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it.
5) I walk down another street.
What street, new or old, are you walking down, aware or not of the potholes or pitfalls that challenge your way? What lessons are you learning or have you learned? What old or new insights live inside you, wanting to direct you on your way to making different and better choices, hoping to encourage you to go another way, even if it’s hard, even if part of you still isn’t sure it’s right or if you’re ready?
In this new year, may you find the courage to live a life true to yourself. May you find a balance between work and play, between the many demands we all know and having the time for people and relationships that are most important to you. May you dare to express yourself and remember to be in touch with those you love. And may you choose to walk down the new road toward happiness. The beginning is now, and will always be….
- The Beginning is Now - January 1, 2014
