Underneath the New Year
It is a whole new year. Last year blipped past in a second last night, the moment that switched on possibility, opportunity, another chance to get it right. In my home, second hands marked the change but I loved it when, years ago, my digital clock would make that soft, onomatopeic “flip” and the new year was instantly revealed.
The tomatoes on my kitchen counter lured me, this morning, to reach for my camera to capture their colour, brimming full in the bowl we brought back from Driving Creek Railway and Potteries in New Zealand. But as I focused my camera, I noticed that one of the tomatoes had split, its over-ripeness filling with the first emergence of mold. So I lifted the bottom stem and tucked the ruining tomato underneath.
We all have “stuff” we would rather others not see. We hide our B-rolls from the world, but too often see ourselves as deficient or unworthy because we forget that others are doing the same. They, too, are editing out the disasters, the losses, the sore spots, and the spoiled ruins of their lives, presenting their best to public scrutiny.
Our best is built on the whole of our lives and we forget that at our peril. The ruined tomato provided a framework, a support for the fruits in the foreground. We would not be the people we are – full, ripe, whole – without the imperfections with which we constantly struggle. Which isn’t to say that we shouldn’t work to understand ourselves and sometimes hard enough, even, to repair the places we have been broken. But it is to say that we are whole and that what lies underneath helps to make us so.
I hope this New Year provides you joy, perspective, and courage as you both find and place yourself amidst whatever challenges and opportunities emerge.