Starting over is a recurring phenomenon. We get to begin again every morning if we choose to. Or we can see each Monday as a new beginning, if we work a regular job. Our calendars begin anew each month, so that could be our jumping on place—to start fresh, turn over a new leaf, and reorder our journey.
Our birthdays are sometimes seen as new beginnings, too. We have another year to look back on and another year to look ahead to, to plan, to dream.
The calendar year can also trigger this phenomenon if we see it that way.
But the years march on whether we are ready for them to or not. The young among us sense time as a slow-mover; the rest of us sense time as a rushing river moving way too fast. We want to build a dam, stop the flow, sit on the bank, and just be. We want time to stop so that we can ponder the course of our lives, to consider what has been and what is yet to be. Given enough of the “stopped time,” we might be willing to unearth the dam a little and let the river begin to flow again, but at a much slower pace—like the small irrigation ditches through which water trickled down the blocks of our small town in the fifties.
But we have no such power. We cannot dam the river. We cannot stop time. The best we can do is become intentional in our living so that we are not swept along by the current of the culture, and so that we don’t miss our purpose for being on this planet in the first place. We can do that.