When we listen to music, we seldom notice the spaces between the notes: those brief moments of silence that give rhythm its pulse, melody its breath, and harmony its shape. Yet without these pauses, music would be just noise. It's in these intervals that meaning takes form, where anticipation builds, and beauty finds its frame. As this year draws to a close, I find myself dwelling in these spaces. The quiet moments between heartbeats, the pause between breaths, the stillness between thoughts, all containers with immense wisdom. When the year began, I wrote about liminal distances while swirling in the depths of emotional whirlpools. Now, those once-turbulent waters have settled into calm lakes, teaching me what the Japanese call 'mono no aware': the tender beauty of impermanence.
Learning the Gentle Art of "Tell Me More"
Like the rest between musical phrases, the space after a question can hold more meaning than the question itself. This year, I discovered that "tell me more" is more than just words; it's an offering of silence, an invitation to unfold. In conversations, these three simple words create a sacred space where stories emerge like delicate origami, revealing hidden patterns and unexpected beauty. In a world where everyone needs a listener, these moments of held silence become a small but powerful gift.
The Blooming Within
I’ve written a lot about becoming. This year, the tiny seed planted below the stones started to grow into the light. I found my spiritual guide. I meditated consistently for the last five months. Through meditation, I am learning again that patience is not just a virtue but a creative force. Everything blooms from the inside out, like the gradual opening of a morning glory at dawn. These moments of stillness are not empty but brimming with unseen potential. Meditation has helped me rest in stillness while watching the sea of immense possibilities surround my life. I will never be able to translate the change I have experienced within these past few months. That being said, I am profoundly aware that the stillness will be challenged and that’s the beauty of being alive :)
Forever in Awe and Wonder in the Ordinary
This inner quieting has strengthened my senses to the symphony of everyday moments. Have you noticed how sparrows perform their version of ballet in the morning light? They fly like ballerinas in the air. Swan Lake in Air comes alive when they hop on from one tree to the other.
The world reveals its artistry in these interstitial spaces. Shadows dance on walls as clouds pass overhead, creating ephemeral paintings that never repeat. The symphonic orchestra of dawn begins with a cricket's solo, gradually joined by a chorus of birds, like nature's own rendition of Beethoven's Ninth. Even in urban spaces, beauty finds its way through the geometric poetry of raindrops on windowpanes and the evening light transforming ordinary puddles into mirrors of gold.
Khalil Gibran wrote, "The obvious is that which is never seen until someone expresses it simply." This year has taught me that perhaps the greatest art lies not only in creating beauty but in learning to see it: in the steam rising from a cup of tea, in the perfect mathematics of a spider's web, in the way trees paint shadows on sidewalks.
Acknowledging the Impermanence
Each moment becomes more precious when we truly understand its fleeting nature. The Buddhist concept of 'ichigo ichie' (一期一会) reminds us that each encounter is unique and will never come again. Life's richness dwells in these unrepeatable moments: the way morning light catches a dewdrop, the spontaneous laugh of a friend, a particular pattern of clouds on any given evening. These are poems written in the language of time, their beauty heightened by their transience.
A Gentle Invitation (Not a Resolution)
As the calendar prepares to flip to a new year, there's often a collective rush to reflect and reinvent. But here's a quiet truth: transformation doesn't follow the calendar. Your moment of insight might come on a random Tuesday in March, during a quiet sunset in August, or even right now as you read these words.
If you feel called to reflect, here are some whispers of inquiry:
What surprised you this year?
Which moments made you feel most alive?
What did you unlearn?
Where did curiosity lead you?
What ordinary beauty caught your breath?
As one of my favourite poets Rainer Maria Rilke advised, "Try to love the questions themselves... Live the questions now." Sometimes the most honest reflection is simply acknowledging where we are, with all our contradictions and uncertainties.
So whether you're entering the new year with clear intentions or beautiful confusion, know that both are perfect. Your timeline is your own. Perhaps the most revolutionary act is simply to be here, now, exactly as you are, like a leaf dancing in the wind, neither rushing nor resisting, simply being. The poem I would like to share is by Jane Hirshfield.
The Patience of Ordinary Things
It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be.
I’ve been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?
Thank you for being here. Wish you a happy, joyful, playful and abundant 2025.
With love, curiosity and blessings. Arigato :)