Earth's New Beginning

A stream of thoughts about the duality of life

By the time today's post is published, I'll have spent approximately two hours in the city, enveloped in the atmosphere of vintage wool and cashmere clothing, accompanied by the melodic strains of Parisian tunes, and surrounded by the lingering scent of gourmand perfume—all while keeping my phone switched off.

Last night, I contemplated posting, then entertained the notion of postponing until tonight. However, given my inclination for routine, I generally adhere to it whenever feasible.

For now, let's set aside the logistical details.

Marc Padeu's Le baptême de Roxane (2022)

It's 8:30 AM, and despite waking before my alarm, I'm looking forward to a pleasant day ahead. To be honest, I don't have much to share this week. The world seems engulfed in an existential crisis, particularly on the east coast, where crumbling infrastructures in Maryland, lively presidential campaigns in New York, unexpected snow flurries in Connecticut, and sporadic earthquakes in New Jersey paint a picture of uncertainty.

It's intriguing to observe how many of us are contending with deep confusion and disarray, rather than experiencing any sort of certainty. It's as though the enormity of recent events has left us feeling somewhat disoriented, revealing that we may be more accustomed to prioritizing our individual concerns over addressing collective issues.

While we're quick to extend support and empathy to individuals in pain or distress, our collective response often falls short in the face of global turmoil. None of us seem to be taking decisive action, perhaps because we're unsure of what actions to take or where to begin.

In recognizing our inability to respond, we've come to understand that our very inaction is, in its own right, a response. We still have a strong desire to speak out and effect change, but the words often elude us, leaving us in a paradox that is simultaneously freeing and deeply disheartening.

Excerpt from previous entry, Peace

Despite the increasing frequency, we consistently find ourselves caught off guard by the unpredictable fury of natural disasters, the sudden shifts of tectonic plates beneath us, or the relentless barrage of extreme weather events. Lately, I've been contemplating the reasons behind this phenomenon and reflecting on what insights the earth may be trying to convey about our relationship with it.

I ponder where our missteps lie or where we've faltered. Why is it that we only seem to acknowledge our impact when the earth shows signs of distress or pain? I wonder if we've reached a point of no return or if we've arrived just in time—whether we can embrace a new beginning or if we're hurtling towards an inevitable ending.

I'm neither filled with hope nor despair, but there's a lingering uncertainty within me. It's as though everything unfolds with a mix of intention and spontaneity, unsettling me as I witness the unexpected changes unfolding across the world, especially when they defy our expectations.

The irony is, when I initially delved into the concept of spring and its association with new beginnings, I failed to fully comprehend its potential as a harbinger of final endings. While spring indeed brings forth new life and vibrant growth, it also signifies the closure of certain chapters, as old layers are shed and transitions occur—and these past two weeks have served as a poignant reminder of this dual nature.

Both on a global and personal scale, there have been numerous instances where I believed I was embarking on a fresh start by speaking up, remaining still, or taking decisive action, only to realize later that it signaled the conclusion of a chapter.

For instance, a few weeks ago during an unexpected encounter that reconnected me with someone from my past, I was faced with the opportunity to express myself. I found myself at a crossroads, ultimately opting for silence, and while I initially felt confident in my decision—not out of fear, but out of a desire to avoid reopening old wounds—doubt lingered. Should I have spoken up? Did my silence signify a final ending? Was I truly ready to move forward, knowing it could potentially alter our relationship forever?

Constantly entangled in the web of overthinking, I often find myself pondering even the minutest details, dismayed by how uncertainty can weigh so heavily on our decisions. Whether it’s navigating the intricacies of a relationship or contemplating the fate of our planet, each choice we make possesses the profound potential to reshape our lives. These decisions, both small and monumental, steer us down unforeseen paths, shaping the narratives of our existence in ways we could never have anticipated.

By now, it's evident that my wavering confidence in navigating life's complexities is simply a reflection of my humanity, yet this realization doesn't diminish its daunting nature. Ultimately, life demands that we confront our choices, even when uncertainty clouds our path—a notion that can be challenging to embrace. Perhaps therein lies the beauty of it all...

Anyways,

Today's entry is more of a quick-paced exploration than a neatly structured train of thought. I've heard that there's an eclipse on the horizon within the week. If there were ever a moment to ponder whether you're standing at the threshold of a fresh start or confronting a conclusive ending, wouldn't it be now?

Best,

S.