Every year since I started the blog (even for the many years in which I blogged daily), I have taken Easter weekend off from writing. I’ve always considered Easter weekend to be my truest yearly reset button. It makes more sense for the renewal of life to start again, at this spring time of the year. Everything is new and starting fresh and revitalized and hopeful and full of expectation and aspiration. Everything is teeming with life. Springtime is the innocent infancy of another year in our lives.
Our area in the world is known for its beautiful sunsets. Last night, my husband and I, and our dogs, walked down to a local park to watch the sunset. There were more clouds than usual obscuring the sun, but the light rays still shone their ever long bands, into a bluish, yellowish haze. Sometimes the sunset is bright orange and red. Other times it is determinedly yellow until its last final seconds. A woman was watching the sunset with us, and she said that she had to buy more space on her phone, because she has taken so many pictures of the sunsets, on practically a daily basis.
“It’s different every night, isn’t it?” I said to her.
“Yes, and it’s always beautiful.” We both said practically in unison.
This is the case for everything which we do on a regular basis, isn’t it? We think of our everyday experiences and our daily habits as “the usual” or even mundane. We often think of our daily duties, and our traditions and our holidays and our other cyclical, annual experiences as “the same ol’, same old”. And sometimes we sigh with feigned boredom about this fact, but sometimes we also hang on desperately to “the same”, mostly out of fear and a desire to control everything to keep it the same, for reasons of nostalgia and comfort and security. But nothing really ever remains exactly the same. Even us. Especially us. And so, if we are honest and open and big-hearted and compassionate with ourselves, we notice that the “it” of our every single days, is always a little bit different, and yet, it’s always beautiful, in its own singular way.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.