The Layers--by Stanley Kunitz

 

I have walked through many lives,

some of them my own,

and I am not who I was,

though some principle of being

abides, from which I struggle

not to stray.

When I look behind,

as I am compelled to look

before I can gather strength

to proceed on my journey,

I see the milestones dwindling

toward the horizon

and the slow fires trailing

from the abandoned camp-sites,

over which scavenger angels

wheel on heavy wings.

Oh, I have made myself a tribe

out of my true affections,

and my tribe is scattered!

How shall the heart be reconciled

to its feast of losses?

In a rising wind

the manic dust of my friends,

those who fell along the way,

bitterly stings my face.

Yet I turn, I turn,

exulting somewhat,

with my will intact to go

wherever I need to go,

and every stone on the road

precious to me.

In my darkest night,

when the moon was covered

and I roamed through wreckage,

a nimbus-clouded voice

directed me:

"Live in the layers,

not on the litter."

Though I lack the art

to decipher it,

no doubt the next chapter

in my book of transformations

is already written.

I am not done with my changes.

Embracing 2014

Last year, I made the courageous decision to act only insofar as they include my being, my future, and myself; I made a commitment to stop letting other’s expectations, or my projection of their expectations run my life. My-oh-my, things went big after I let go of the fear of letting people down.

To sum it up: I giggled profusely with friends over micro-brews, contemplated social justice with passionate classmates, supported wounded women with a listening ear at the YWCA, ran 21 miles on my birthday, graduated college with a 4.0, gallivanted around India for 6 months with a belly full of rice, witnessed the goddess transformation of my sister when she gave birth to my nephew, and settled down for winter with my loved ones in Colorado.

In reflecting on the past year, I can’t help but express profound gratitude for all of the ugly shit—chances I took, mistakes I made, kisses I shouldn’t have given—because in hindsight, these are the things that have made me grow. If I can sum up 2013 in one word, it would be ‘fearless.’ It has been fearless because I have been focused on growing even more into myself—cultivating that self-love and acceptance which for so long eluded me from contentment.

I read this quote by Neil Gaiman yesterday, and it really inspired me to keep this attitude of appreciating my ‘uglies,’

“I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes.

Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're Doing Something.

So that's my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make New Mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody's ever made before. Don't freeze, don't stop, don't worry that it isn't good enough, or it isn't perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life.

Whatever it is you're scared of doing, Do it.

Make your mistakes, next year and forever.”

            As far as resolutions go I am happy to say that there is nothing in my life that I feel needs drastic remodeling; that said, I am choosing this year to continue my commitment to self-love and acceptance in daily life. Now that I have been back in the states for a while, I recognize how vital it is for me to set-aside ‘quiet time,’ where I can be alone and am forced to reflect—to sit with my oscillating mind and siphon out the nuggets which need examining. Especially in a place where it is so easy to distract, to numb, to zone-out with food or drink or HD-TV—I must carve out a space for myself in which quiet contemplation of my self must take place.

            There you have it—for 2014, my task is to make a daily habit of ‘checking-in,’ and not allowing the days to wash over me in a haze of routine and petty frustration.