It's a New Year




The New Year is coming!! ...and to some of us it sounds like the cry of Winterfell, we don't know what to do, we don't know where to hide, but the New Year is coming (and you better not be doing something boring when the clock strikes twelve)!!


So I start thinking, personally, what is it that I could do to make this year any "different".
For starters, I like myself the way I am, and the rest of me is immune to changes, so I cannot expect any massive alteration in my personality. Oh! that's not a very good start, I suppose. The Mother Goddess of all resolutions will be so disappointed in me!

Here I am, heading into the New Year with no resolutions and no plans of any great New year bash or drum rolls and confetti when the clock strikes twelve. And this is exactly what makes me realize that these are just the peripherals to a new beginning.

What is more important is for us to be aware of ourselves which will help us understand what is good for us and what we really want, and choose wisely between the two in case they beg to differ.

We may not be a hero, or a warrior, or a burglar but we all have a Bilbo Baggins within us and the potential to dive out of our comfort zone and create a great story. It is a New Year and by the end of the year if we have a story to tell, a story of bravery, grace, love and kindness, it is a year well spent, a year worth living for.


Penny for your thoughts?





Image Source:1
Image Source:2
Citation: 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

In search of a peacock feather

Image
The arid parts of the country longed for the rains. The sky so dry, reflected the parched barren ground. All signs of life were remotely preserved. The days were long and hot, and the nights were too short. The locals believed that the sun spread special rays for this region. They considered this a blessing. The sun scorched the earth for 45 days and at the end of that time, the peacock danced in the secret garden and rain would fall to quench the thirst of this dry land.
Read more

A strange beckoning

Image
In the silence of the night, soft waves rock my boat as I cross the purple waters of the river to the other side. All I can hear is the water splashing against the oar of the small wooden boat. The tall oarsman is hooded by the darkness. I can't see his face. His long thin hands meticulously row the boat.
Read more