Article that appeared in The New Leaf .
January is traditionally a time of new beginnings. We set intentions, make resolutions and strike a new course, often without taking time to acknowledge where we have been or to really look at where we are now. As a result, we fail to reap the learning harvest of our past and we feel rootless and disconnected as we step into the future.
Why is it that we resist just looking? One reason is that looking is so simple that we underestimate its importance. We are so focused on what we have to do (or what we think or fear we have to do) that simply taking a closer look does not seem decisive or assertive enough to deserve our attention. We are habituated to achievement, and we are uncomfortable with the seeming passivity of simply observing what is, preferring the sense of accomplishment that comes with action to the uncertainty that can accompany observation and reflection.
Our preference for activity also prejudices our expectations of what we will find if we do look. We arrive at conclusions before we have looked at the information before us, deciding, for instance, that we cannot afford to look at whether we are happy in our work because we might not be able to find another job. We avoid looking, too, because we instinctively avert our gaze from things that frighten or repel us. We pull back, sometimes without noticing that we are doing so. We keep ourselves in the dark precisely when we most need information and insight, and we do it so reflexively that we swear that there is no insight to be had.
Oddly, we also avert our gaze from good fortune. Perhaps we fear it will go away if we look too closely, or we fear that if we look directly at our abundance we will encounter envy in our friends or greed in ourselves. Whatever the reason, our reluctance to just look is always rooted in fear, and when we are afraid we shut down, closing out not only what we are afraid of, but also--inevitably--what gives us light and life.
However seductive the temptation not to look ("What you donít know can't hurt you," whispers a chorus of gremlins) and in spite of our reflexive blindness, looking is always an option. And, while looking alone will not change your life, it is the indispensable first step.
I invite you to be open to those things that want to be looked at in your own life. From what are you averting your gaze? Gently acknowledge what you have been unwilling to see, and use some of the tools you find here to shine a light in that direction. There may be a miracle waiting in the shadows.
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U.S. Library of Congress ISSN: 1530-311X.
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