My Februaries have always been new times. But the repetition of the newness is an oldness in and of itself. Today is the first song on a dusty 12-track vinyl that somehow surprises you with new melodies every time.
I know February isn’t thought of as the month of newness. That’s January, naturally – thirty-one days of fresh starts, resolutions, decisions, tiny shoots in the skeletal dirt and snow. But fresh starts don’t last long. Some shrink, some lose their meaning, some melt and trickle into forgetfulness. But, thank Goodness, others grow. Habits can be lost, or they can settle into a comfortable rhythm, a steady relationship, well-worn and well-known, soft leather and warm pajamas. No, there aren’t any fruits yet. Those days are still to be known. Spring, the days of growing. Summer, the days of nurturing. Autumn, the days of harvesting. But that’s not discouraging — it’s exciting. Today is the half-way point between winter and spring, after all. Today reminds us to keep moving forward: Winter always ends, and it always ends in spring. No matter what happens, there will always be that rebirth, the newness from the beginning of time. It’s so secure. So comfortable.
There are so many songs and stories that you will come to know. So many loves, ideas, tragedies, losses, adventures. You will meet so many souls. Like you always have, like you are doing now. Just like you do, every February. I promise they’re all there, as concrete as much as the present. They’re so close, but just barely ahead, friends standing and waving across the street. What you will see and learn draws from today. The next moments come from this moment. Like they always do.
It’s so wonderfully repetitious, so old, so fresh, so known. It’s so comfortable.
There’s no need to run towards it. The seeds you sow now will grow, and you’ll know them soon. Until then, have a warm, safe, comfortable, happy First.
(art not by me)