Novelty. This is a worthy consideration today.
I was at the store perusing the gems and precious metals and thought, “Maybe I need that”… Forget all the stuff I have at home, this stuff is new.
This thought of new reminded me of the old that I already had. No one wants old. Not unless you are into antiques, and often, obtaining antiques is not for the having, but for the selling. Not simply because of it’s aged state.
And then there was my grandson today. 8 months old. He would be enamored with the novelty of any new thing I would hand him for a few minutes, and then it would lose its appeal, and he would drop it for the next new thing.
People do this with people, too.
The moment someone is perceived to turn the corner from new and fascinating to boring and tiresome, it’s time to move on. We can’t accept the stagnation of boredom or dissatisfaction.
Because stopping is death.
We run from sameness because its comfortable stagnancy smacks of death. New relationships, new cars, new homes… it never ends. It’s all in an effort to live in the denial of our potential end.
When we run to whatever sparkles we are really running from that which does not: the grave.
Granted, part of the running to sparkles stems from the programmed survival of the species. We are programmed for life. To live. To procreate. To further humanity and in this, maybe this small egoic echo believes that we will be immortal. It’s also possible that our needing to know and experience is part of being able to protect ourselves and fend off danger.
Why is accepting death so hard?
I mean, I’ve had my brushes with death over the years and it’s terrifying. But all those little brushes serve to really help us along on our journey to come to peace with the whole concept.
But I think we weren’t made for endings.
I remember being a teenager and tripping so bad on the whole death thing. When you are young, you are moving away from the epitome of life, which is birth. Becoming alive is still so fresh in your body and your brain that you can’t even grasp that there is an end.
Death is unfathomable.
But fortunately, over time, you realize that it’s inevitable and you might as well prepare your soul for the eventuality of it. It’s almost as if the soul, in all its wisdom, prepares you of its own accord.
But here’s the glitch. In accepting death will come and making peace with it, it’s possible that that’s when you truly begin to live.
When you can look into the eyes of your aging mate (you know, the one that reminds you that you are aging and hence reminds you of your upcoming “doom”) and be at peace, you are in a good place. This is where the running stops and the peace and grace of just being has the opportunity to envelop you in its ever ready arms.
It’s this strange and unfamiliar bliss of letting go.
It’s where you learn to enjoy the small goodness of the every day, like the sound of birds singing- something you’ve heard your whole life but never heard. Or the silent rising of the majestic sun, whose daily appearance is worthy of proclamation (but only the lowly rooster pays heed). Or a breeze that blows gently through your hair like the very fingers of God, tousling it like a beloved child. You take joy in each breath and understand that each and every breath you’ve ever had has been a gift.
And it’s OK to be here. It’s ok to be with the death and the dying and the mystery of it all. Because maybe you believe there’s something new around the bend. Something shiny that never stops shining. No running. No fear. No old.
So understand novelty is just that. Novelty. It’s not permanent. It’s not forever. It’s distraction. And the time will come where you are ready to lay down the shiny distractions and move into what’s next. Maybe what’s better.
And frankly, if it’s anything like the magnificence of the here and now, I’m down.
But not just yet.