Life Isn't a Calendar (an Everyday Essay)

It is not what you first think. There is no effort of will, no firm resolve in the face of this thing called living. There is only paying attention to the quiet each morning, while you hold your cup in the cool air & then that moment you choose to spread your love like a cloth upon the table & invite the whole day in again. ~"Invitation" by Brian Andreas

The Solstice snow has melted a bit since last week, but the world has stayed mostly wintry white. We finally cleared the driveway yesterday and then woke to a new coat this morning. The backyard trees cradle little pillows of fresh snow in the crooks of their bare arms, and the shaggy evergreens bear the heavy snowload with their usual sad dignity. Out on my back deck I can just see the top of the patio umbrella stand peeking above the fluff, and the table, which shouldn't be left out during the winter, looks like a tall brown cake topped with white icing.

The new year lurks around every corner now, whispering invitations to clean, organize, and beautify -- my home, my self, my life. There are closets to clean out, lists to make, exercises to be done, paintings to be hung, vegetables to be eaten, intentions to be set. The new year is a busy time of foraging and plumbing the worlds around and within us. We humans take every chance we get to make meaning and sense of things, and the annual calendar changeover is prime time for these endeavors.

What did the past year bring us? What did it mean? Where are we now? What do we wish for the year ahead?

You're probably pondering the same things.

I'd chosen a group of words as my theme for 2012: harmony, rhythm, flow, alignment. I feel a bit sad now when thinking about these intentions, because I fell short of my expectations. I'm still seeking each one of these. Does that mean 2012 was a bust?

We cleared the driveway yesterday, and today it's covered again. The snow melts a little and falls some more. Eventually spring seeps through the cold and flowers bloom. Rhythm. Cycle. Flow. First one thing and then another, round and round it goes. We don't claim that the summer has failed us when the green leaves turn crimson.

The calendar days are tidy squares lined up in orderly rows, everything numbered to provide a false sense of linearity. It tricks us into thinking life is this way. Choose a word, set an intention, make a goal. Move forward, declare accomplishment. Make another list and tick it off step-by-step. But life is not a calendar or a list or a ladder you can climb rung-by-rung. Life is the ebb and flow of ocean tides, the sunlight and dappled shadow of forest paths, the contrast of white snow on evergreen boughs. Life is the overcast sky of winter that blurs the line between day and night, and the long June days when golden light seeps well into the night. Life is now. It's the driveway that needs shoveling, the dishes that need washing. It's the candles you light, the books you read, the tea you drink, the people you kiss. It's the lists you make and the ones you forget. One step forward, two steps back, and three to the side for good measure.

In three days I'll turn the page to another year, but I'll know that this is just one way of keeping time. There are other ways to make sense of things, to pay attention to what matters.

** ** **

About Everyday Essays: At least a few times a week I jot down notes about something -- usually a small moment, detail, or thought -- that I want to write about. Most of those ideas stay frozen as notes and never bloom into essays. Everyday Essays is my new writing practice to allow some of those notes to move beyond infancy. I've decided to share some of them with you here, even if they're still half-naked or half-baked. The word "essay" (as is almost always noted when the form is discussed) comes from the French verb essayer, which means to try. The essay is a reckoning, a rambling, an exploration, an attempt. Think of these Everyday Essays as freewriting exercises, rough drafts, or the jumbled, interconnected contents of my mind, which may or may not take root and grow into longer (deeper) essays.

Comments

[d smith kaich jones]

That exhale you sense is mine. I'd not thought of my "failures" in this way. But of course, you are right. Righter than right. Thank you. And Happy New Year! :)

[Patti B.]

No, summer has not failed us when the leaves turn. We have not failed either as we move through cycles of our lives. I'm still chasing my words from last year. Just because the year's over, it doesn't mean I don't have any use for them or lock them in a box and throw away the key.

[Pam]

Love this, thank you

[Rae]

This is just what I needed to read and believe. The words and goals I chose last year were side railed by a new sweet baby. My life is very different than the one I envisioned a year ago, but I am so grateful for it! Cycles, ebb and flow, life. Life is beautiful...

[Barb Markway]

After a day of getting myself in a bad mood cleaning junk drawers and closets, this was just what I needed to read. Thank you, Jenna!

[liz]

Yes.
Thank you for these words.
Holding them close today.
xoxo

[Katie @ cakes, tea and dreams]

So beautiful and wise. Thanks, Jenna. Happy New Year. xo

[Stephanie Niko]

This is a beautiful reminder. Perhaps if life is cyclical and also progressing, it is not a concentric circle but a spiral, remaining the same but also expanding.