Ring Out, Wild Bells

When does death occur and life begin? If we are all one eternal round, why is there a distinction between the old and the new?

What is it about the holidays, and particularly New Year's, that makes me question all of my beliefs about what makes me happy and what could make me happy in the future? Do I really want to continue on the path that I set out to take? Is it because that is when everyone is gone and it is finally quiet enough to reflect upon the essence of my life experience? Do I really want to keep dating that guy that I was dating in the fall? Do I really actually like my job--my career? Do I want to stay where I am or do I want to seek greener pastures somewhere else or with someone else or doing something else? Is there more to life than what I experienced thus far? What is family? Why is it important? Who am I??

There is a certain stench when a place gets too old, when faces get too familiar. Something in the air that wreaks of stagnancy, festering bacteria just below the surface. There is a cleansing process that takes place when I move to a new area. Perhaps I am freed from others' misconceptions about who I am. Perhaps I am allowed to scratch old ideas without shame. I don't have to explain to anyone why I have changed. I can immediately incorporate everything I have learned without resistance.

What is it about the past that is so necessary for growth? Roots deep into ancestry that transcend death. Why is it necessary to forever be bound to the that which has been passed down from father to father, mother to mother? I have tried to cut myself off from the past in an attempt to sever the pain--the infected limb--that seems to infect the rest of my soul. And yet the phantom pain is far more excruciating than gangrene would have ever been. Perhaps there is no severance and what I perceive as severance is a denial of the everlasting bonds that are there between man and every act, every word, every human, every everything ever experienced and that is written in the fleshy tablets of every soul. Are they also the bonds that make us free? (C. Terry Warner, Bonds That Make Us Free)

If denial and severance are only illusory, then how can true renewal be possible? Does death really have to be the answer? Is it possible that a Phoenix can rise and live from the very ashes of its own decay? Is it possible that the bad can be good and the remains are the very substance of life itself? Then why sever--why isolate the good from the bad when they are never truly isolated, nor can they ever be?

I have a transitory nature and that simply is. I never stay in one place, with one purpose, or with one person for very long. I have lived in denial of myself and my very nature for most of my adult life because I didn't used to be this way. When did this begin? I wasn't a military brat and I never traveled much growing up. I believe that at some point moving away to college introduced me to the dying and rebirthing process. I learned that I could let go of relationships and start new ones. I learned that I could gather all of my things and relocate them to a new area without flinching. I learned that I could give up all of my hopes and dreams and create new ones. At some point, I learned how to fail and then how to succeed. I learned that I am a survivor. At some point, I learned how to die and to be reborn.

Ironically, my greatest temptation is to wonder whether things will ever change. Yet intellectually and experientially I understand that change is the only constant, whether it comes or whether I create it myself. Inertia is not my path regardless of whether I choose good or evil.

New Year's can be a time of reflection--a time of renewal--a time of rebirth. Like the breath of life itself, in with the good, out with the bad. Like bottles of wine that have broken out of storage after decades, toast to the sweetness of life, the freshness of a new start, new goals, new relationships, and new adventures. Bring on death and ring out, wild bells!

Ring Out, Wild Bells

"Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more,
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out thy mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be."

Alfred, Lord Tennyson