This is all,
This is everything,
Everything I've got
Genesis. It is the beginning.
I always find my year to be marked inwardly based on school terms, so my year always begins in September. A nice contrast to this is the Jewish Holiday of Rosh Hashanah, which literally means "head of the year." It's also a date that Jews celebrate the birthday of the world - the first creation from which all creation follows. It's the festival where the ram's horn - the shofar - is sounded. I wish I had the abilities required to sound my own specimen, which sits just behind me as I write. Sadly, I am no trumpeter.
And so this day I consider more important than New Years in a lot of ways. New Years is a midpoint for me, a checkup. Right now if I'm making resolutions for a new span of time - my only year at age 23 is soon to be upon me - there's a few things that must certainly be included as focus points. I hope to spend some time sooner rather than later in defining some of the things I'm working on in this year.
Tashlikh is a related Jewish custom of note that I have heard about only via the internet - apparently some Jews symbolically throw bread into a water source as a symbol of their sins being cast to the depths and forgotten. I find this interesting, and though I'm not planning to incorporate it specifically into my belief system, I am often intrigued and appreciative of systems to back up one's beliefs with visual and physical cues. Being that it's Fall and leaves are plentiful, I'm planning on taking a handful to the bridge and performing a similar ceremony with the design of forgetting that which is behind. There are some things that I need to let go of and move on. I think a lot will change when I do. I may have to let go more than once, but I'd like to try doing it with something concretely representative. And I can think of no better way to symbolize these things than dead leaves. They grew and formed and had their course, and yet as they drop from the living tree, it is only in preparation. The winter tree looks barren, but it is deceptive in it's dead appearance because it remains a sleeping storehouse of life.In soul seasons, I believe I am in springtime - an irony as the days grow shorter and the leaves fall. But I am a winter tree whose leaves still weight the branches, and I need to release them to the winds of time to be free and to grow into the coming renewal.