SKYE stephenson

As you read this, you are stepping into the new. As in a new year, and also a new time.

A new time for the United States, and also – maybe – a new time for you as well.

Of course, every morning when we wake up, we are stepping into the new. A new day. A new possibility. New options and choices available to us of how we want to act, and who we want to be that day.

But then there are threshold moments where we know that we are stepping into something entirely new. Something we do not yet know what it is, because this unknown something is still a work in creation. We are creating it. But, at the same time, this ‘unknown something’ is also creating us.

There are many kinds of threshold moments we pass through in our lives. Some are foreseen and planned for. Such as going to university or leaving home in some way when we are a young adult. Or getting married. Or obtaining a driver’s license. And so on.

Other threshold moments are unexpected, and can catch us by surprise. Sometimes we joy, and sometimes with sorrow. And most often with a pinch of both. Such as that moment when we first hold our newborn child. And when we first realize we are in love with a person – who may or may not feel the same way as we do. Or when we lose something near and dear to us. A member of our family. A job. Our status. A partner that no longer wants to be our partner.

And then there are those times every 365 days when the calendar tells us that a new year has begun. And we set out our new calendars, and begin marking off the days of this new year.

Many years ago, I lived in Japan for a while, where I taught English. I lived in a rather remote area of Japan; a region known for its high snow and looming mountain peaks. Although this region was at the same latitude as Tokyo, almost, it was on the other coast of Japan. By the Sea of Japan. And it was cold there in the winter, where my small rented apartment had no heating except for one electric blanket and a kind of low-lying table that had a heat bulb underneath.

In Japan, New Year is the big holiday. And it is celebrated one the same day that we do in the United States. But there the similarities end. Because New Year in Japan is a really big deal. And considered so important for our personal health and well-being.

To welcome in the New Year, first folks had to clean and clear out stuff from the outgoing year. All places, from personal homes to offices, would be systematically cleaned from top to bottom. And it was always a team effort.

Once this was done, preparations for the New Year could proceed smoothly.

That year, a family invited me to spend New Year in their village that was high in the mountains. When I arrived to the small train station, the family members (husband, wife, two children of middle school age) picked me up and brought me to their home.

They explained to me that New Years is the time to make a wish. And after a wonderful dinner, and some flute music played by the husband, we proceeded to the local temple where a long line of people had already gathered at the foot of an enormous metal bell that hung from a small roofed building just large enough to hold the bell. Besides this bell, also on ropes, was what looked like a very large tree trunk, devoid of bark and branches. This, I would soon learn, was used to hit that bell so it would clang.

One by one, each person in line stepped forward, pulled back that heavy wooden pole, and let it hit that bell. That was when they were supposed to make their wish (silently).

When it was my time, I did the same. And made my silent wish – which was actually a question about love, and my best future. What Spirit most wanted of me, in this lifetime.

Once we returned back to their house, I promptly fell into a deep and nurturing sleep that brought me a dream. A dream that clearly answered my question. Although it was not the answer I had hoped for.

Sometimes we are shown things, or brought to situations, that are new to us and that we really do not want to deal with. We would have much rather hung on to the old, and the comfortable. But it is not going to work that way anymore.

And there is a hidden gift in this not knowing. The gift is that anything can happen.

Published in The Monadnock Shopper News, December 31, 2024-January 7, 2025