All Our Beginnings

“In my beginning is my end.”

“In my end is my beginning.”

The first and last lines of T. S. Eliot’s grand poem, “East Coker.”

Sixty years later, this college English major has rediscovered Eliot as those two lines, out of all of his copious work, have come back to remind me that life is limited. Not just limited, but between ends and beginnings lie thousands of moments when we come to a crossroad and make changes because – well, we have to.

In the poetic genius of “East Coker,” T. S. Eliot, American Nobel Prize winning poet, surrounds the two meeting points of every life. When we are born, we come into the world with a time limit. We live our way into its fullness some day. With good habits, some good luck, and maybe enough good genes, we can sometimes manage when that will come to pass, but our end will come to every one of us. So far, so good. We are T. S. Eliot experts now.

It has been the last line, though, that has captivated me ever since I heard it. At nearly 81, my “end” is no longer comfortably tucked away for some far distant time. It is no longer figurative. It has flesh and blood and a name.

“In my end is my beginning.”

I have found them to be hopeful words. How many times do we get the chance to start over again? To find – to create, perhaps – yet another new beginning?

Each new start finds us looking ahead to find just what is left that still needs to be done. In every new start, there are possibilities for new kinds of joy and wonder and discovery that remind us that life is not done with us yet! And we are reminded that we are not yet done with being overwhelmed by the wonder of it all.

I have been doing the due diligence “things” that need doing in elder years: finishing an advance directive; updating my will; formalizing my “Do Not Resuscitate” wishes if my heart stops; and writing down the multitudes of information that my family will need to carry out all the many responsibilities when I no longer can. Numbers and passwords and names. It’s the responsible thing to do.

Something subtle began to happen, though. I began to lose some energy: physical, emotional and spiritual. When I finally came up for air after a week or so, I began to realize that I’d gotten stuck in the future. The present, which is quite manageable and which has lots of good things, was being subtly undermined without my even noticing it. I was forgetting to embrace the lovely and the creative and the wonder that is still very much a part of my life right here and now.

I began waking up to yet another beginning.

“In my end is my beginning.” And so it is. I took up my paint brushes after too long a hiatus and began to throw myself into color and shape and whimsy and trial and error and the energy of breathing again into the life that I want to create both because of and in spite of what its length will be.

Returning to living in the moment, full of the fascination of starting over, is like a mini-rebirth. It is remembering a way of being that claims the wisdom gained over so many years. And finding even more because I am ready to begin again.

In my end is my beginning. So far, my new beginning is making me smile. It is ramping up my energy for my rather complex and unpredictable life and teasing out some answers. Grace shows up again. It tends to do that at the crossroads.

Now, you must excuse me while I go to my art corner and pick up my brushes and watercolor paints. I have some new beginning to begin!

And I’m very okay with that.

9 thoughts on “All Our Beginnings

  1. Such an awesome post, full of wonder, full of possibility. Each new day dawns and we are wise to receive it with open arms. Like a little bird that flutters by the window, we spend much time fluttering about with many things. If we seize the moment, we are indeed wise souls. Thank you for sharing your wisdom…you are a great inspiration to others.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This line from your reflection stood out for me today: “The present, which is quite manageable and which has lots of good things, was being subtly undermined without my even noticing it.” I find that such an easy trap to fall into.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. So do I, Liz! And when you live alone, as I do, there is no one to call me away from that trap. Writing seems to be the one thing that brings those subtle traps into the light because I have to dig deeply to find what is hidden.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Good for you! While those preparations for the future were necessary, they are not a place where you want to get “stuck.” The here and now still has so much to offer for you, and it sounds as if your new beginning is going very well. I am, as always, in awe of your grace and wisdom…..

    Liked by 4 people

    1. I am very fortunate that this latest journey is so much easier than the last one. There is room to pick up lessons that were overwhelmed the last time by the enormity of what I was having to overcome. I hope to remain ever the student of life.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. I hear you about getting caught up in the future and forgetting to live NOW. I did that for all the years I taught. I was always planning the next week, the next semester, the next year. We would finish one event, one project, and I had the next one ready to go and plans for those to follow. I rarely enjoyed the moment I was in and revel in the success of each event, each project. Now, when I see photos of these events, I sigh, and remember, and wish I could slip back in and soak it all up.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. So late we learn that the present moment is to be lived in wholeheartedly. That lesson is one of those, though, that we tend to learn later – hopefully not too late to live that way for the rest of our lives. It’s one of those graces of our elderhood!

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.