It's Just Another Day

Gentle as the ocean's foamy edge blends the sands on the beach, so goes the change from one year to the next. It's not a hard transition, change doesn't come about as the clock strikes midnight, it's a gentle blending from one moment to the next, and to the next. 

Unlike many years in the past—where I've commanded "I'm done with this year, and ready for the next!", I felt more at ease with the grace of the year in passing and less inclined to draw that hard-line in the sand. As if something magical would happen at that precise moment where the big and little hands of the clock are pointing north, (not to say something magical couldn't happen), it is in the sheer expectation that is put on one year to the next, where disappointment can enter. Really—it's just another day.

Following the meditation of the in-and-out breath of the ocean's wave, gently brushing up and over the sandy beach; never landing in the same place and smoothing out whatever was in it's path—so goes the next year, the next month, the next week, the next day, the next hour, the next minute, the next second, and the next moment. 

It's just another day...what am I going to do with it, not what is it going to do for me?