Architects of Meaning

Architects of Meaning

It was fairly simple and extremely straightforward. The pieces were sorted, the instruction precise and the afternoon time perfect for such activity. Pretty soon we had constructed a playground with her very first set of Legos. Obviously, she was thrilled, my child who was at the time barely five years old but I was fascinated too.

It soon evolved as a pressing hobby and over time we embarked on more complicated projects and we have constructed a fairly decent Lego city. Considering that neither of us have any architectural skills whatsoever, I am pleased with our effort.

Every such undertaking that has resulted in a successful outcome has brought along a sense of accomplishment, a feeling of worthiness and an attribution of time well spent. But like all accomplishments large and small the elation is fleeting and seldom lasting in effect.

Curiously, I wish to draw a parallel to this chosen hobby and my life.

Needless to say unlike the set patterns of Lego my own life has assumed twists and turns that I never anticipated. Lacking the standards of an instructional manual, color-coded pieces and rough sketches my life seems to have no set purpose. Therefore I wonder if we are indeed architects of our existence on any level at all?

My grandmother would most certainly disapprove of such wonderings. In her mind life’s purpose was nothing like sketches made out of soft charcoal that can be erased, smudged or introduced to new directions. Destiny was like the preconceived pieces of Lego that have to be laid out with precise execution to produce a set outcome.

But as a true moderate I wish to stick to my middle path. While I concur with my grandmother’s assumption, I wish to defy the powerlessness that comes with it. While I have experienced life’s stubbornness I have also witnessed her graceful amiability to my dreams and wishes. Even as she has sometimes dealt me a rough hand life has empowered me to make meaning of my sorrows.

In the grand scheme, I would like to think of us as architects. The size of the board may be established, the pieces already distributed, the colors randomly allocated and a hidden instruction manual may be directing us constantly. Yet we can, if we are brave enough, make meaning of it all that is our very own.

Apparently God helps those who help themselves and he goes out of his way to bless those who help themselves and others!

Searching for Newness

Searching for Newness

I haven’t bothered to make any new-year’s resolutions in a while.  Somehow the years past have simply rolled along, each one unfolding like rose buds, sometimes to a fullness that surprised even me, and sometimes unraveling barely a petal or two.

Even as November of last year approached, my heart made a subtle suggestion that this new- year would somehow be a different kind of new.

I still don’t know how.

The standard works have already been set in motion.  I’m taking better care of myself in terms of exercise and diet. I have set my artistic and literary goals. I have surrounded myself with well wishing friends and family and uncluttered my environment of unhealthy obligations.  Most importantly, I love deeply and I am extremely blessed to have several others who love me with equal affection.

So what else could be new?

Somehow I innocently assumed that the new-year’s morning would enlighten me as to what this newness that I seem to look forward to is all about.

So like I child, I paid attention. I rolled out of my old and comfortable bed after a good’s night rest. I sipped at the hot cup of coffee served by my dear husband as usual. Walking down the hallway I stared for quiet a while at my sleeping children with Popeye nestled comfortably between their pillows. I watched the sky as I drew the drapes, sensing my own eagerness and desire to pronounce a cloudy morning as simply spectacular.  But after a few moments I realized that everything is just as usual.

Perhaps the newness that I anticipate is yet to come or perhaps it is already on its way and yet to reach me. Still perhaps the newness is already inside of me and is waiting for me to simply recognize it as such. Maybe it’s pleasant. Maybe it’s horrible. Should I be scared, must I be hopeful?? Sometimes newness is like watching your child grow, you see it happen right before you and yet you can never define the exact moment.

Whatever it is, my heart insists that this year will be new and I have to say I am curiously excited! And I sincerely wish the same sensation of joyous expectation for each and every one of you.