This weeks marks one year since I began my daily posts.
The words of Robert Terry Weston guide me in reflection and in vision.
I hope they inspire you, too.
A year is gone.
It matters not when it began
For it has ended now.
There were other years,
And some began with a birthday,
And some with a death;
Some with one day of the month and some with another.
Some began with a song and others with a lament,
But today I start another year, whatever the month or season;
It is what lies before me that concerns me now.
There will be decisions and tasks;
There will be drudgery, achievement and defeat;
There will be joy and grief,
All the raw stuff of experience
Waiting for me to shape, to fashion as I will,
And it will never become just what I planned,
However it may appear to others.
I can turn it to knowledge and wisdom.
Or folly.
If it be hard, I can make of it strength:
It may become bone, sinew and steel
Or ashes and waste.
Some one might say, “It all depends on what the year may bring,”
But what I make of it depends on me.