The year that drew its last breath just a few days ago has been a difficult one. It seems as if the human race has been besieged from every possible angle – natural disasters, war, growing evidence of pollution capable of destroying the earth’s inhabitants.

If these grim realities aren’t enough, the Christmas just barely over does not conjure up memories of widespread spiritual renewal, but rather serves a reminder that commercialism is the “spirit” of Christmas for many.

Newspaper headlines the Friday after Thanksgiving captured what bears a frightening resemblance to a shark feeding frenzy – thousands waiting in line at midnight for a mall to open. Thousands more waiting at other stores around the area. I couldn’t help but think of the thousands in New Orleans still in makeshift shelters and without work, of the people in earthquake ravished Pakistan who have stolen books from a library for fuel to feed their fires. One thing for sure, Christmas has a way of dividing us into the “haves” and the “have-nots.” The magnitude of these events overwhelms me with grief and a feeling of hopelessness.

Yet hopelessness is not an option for me.

Throughout my life, I have been taught by my Christian family, my New Age friends and the Navajo neighbors of my childhood that faith makes all things possible. It is impossible for me to live without hope because I believe we must take personal responsibility for the world around us. So, I drag myself out of the gloom that has enveloped me and begin to plan for the year ahead.

I cannot change the world, not even if I had billions of dollars. I know that the only thing I can even hope to change is myself. And since I know that my actions and thoughts affect others, I will begin with that realization.

Many New Year’s Days have come and gone along with the resolutions I’ve made, so I am hesitant to make more. Maybe I should make wishes. It seems easier to say “I wish,” than “I will.” And a wish doesn’t get “broken.” Instead, it is always there in the back of the mind, the seed that will eventually come to life if it is strong enough.

Personal wishes

Here are a couple of wishes for myself in the coming year.

My first is for time to reflect. I think of Muslims who stop to pray several times a day. Why, I wonder, can’t we be more like them in our devotion to God? But then I think of the time it would take, and again I wonder – when did my life get so busy that I have no time for anything, including my family, except the demands of day-to-day living?

My second wish is for ritual. Donnie and I haven’t been churchgoers for a long time now, but that doesn’t mean we have lost our spiritual lives. I think of ancient societies, some of which are still around today, and how they have no words for prayer, religion, art, music, and ritual, because all of those things were inseparable from their daily struggles to survive. Modern society has dissected the ancient vision of inclusiveness as if everything is unrelated. Ritual acknowledges and honors not only the sacredness of a higher power, but also the sacredness of ourselves, the earth and all its creatures. Nothing is more detrimental to the people of this world and their surrounding environment than a failure to recognize the sacred trust in which we must live together.

The year we are leaving behind asked many questions, providing few answers.

At least one important question was answered. What does poverty look like? The answer was given in New Orleans, in Pakistan, in Africa. We must remember what we learned last year while we stride forward into unknown territory.

My final wish is that as I quiet my inner “me, me, me” voice, I will be able to hear the questions and understand the answers. And in this “listening” attitude, I hope to see what things I need to change within myself so that my feet will keep to the path that celebrates the earth and its creatures.

Jeanette Baldridge is a writer and teacher who lives in West Paris. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].