Or better: the month of newness and beginnings, since most beginnings are new anyway. This newness is special. You can just tell.
So all of a sudden it’s September. And not just September but now.
It was kind of … dark-ish when I climbed out of bed at six am yesterday. And almost chilly while I was drawing the bath. It’s here. And then …
Last year when we named the moons? I also devised a system based on that exercise to help keep track of my writing and blog postings.
I’ve been completing the transition from Porch Swing Moon (aka Taos Moon) into the Moon of Beginnings, just in time for Rosh Hashana, and it’s started me thinking about my relationship with newness and starting points and marking time.
Of course, it’s pretty much new year’s all year round in these parts.
One of the things I so hugely appreciate about Judaism is the absurd number of times (four) throughout the year that we get to call New Year’s, including the birthday of the trees and the actual beginning of the new year (Gah! Wednesday night!).
And yeah, I do this in my business too.
Selma and I always celebrate towards the end of August, marking the birthday of this beautiful website (five years, darlings).
And then there is great rejoicing on the 7th of March, which marks the day we walked into City Hall in San Francisco and declared this thing we do to be a business. Except it was a sole proprietorship because apparently ducks aren’t allowed to be co-owners. Bastards.
Anyway. And then of course mid-June marks the anniversary of this whole blogging thing, something that turned out to be kind of a big deal for us. And January and Sylvester and the moving into a year with a new number at the end.
Time to reflect is pretty much always useful, and I figure, the more opportunities for noticing, remembering, merriment and drinking, the better.
Things I love about this time of new beginnings.
Layers! Wearing them.
Long walks with Selma.
Things I love about Rosh Hashana in particular.
Standing by the water.
Making plans for the sukkah.
Everything smells good.
Things I love about this time of year in my business.
This is the time when I map out the upcoming pirate ship voyages for the next business year.
Seriously? 2011? What!?
So … another run of improvements to the Kitchen Table program and considering all the crazy experiments I’d like to try with the next year of my secret and wonderful Mindful Biggification group.
This time of creating and brewing with my tiny, sweet things is full of mystery and fun. And it definitely didn’t used to be like that, so I am enjoying this new way.
Oh. And the end of the slow season.
Like magic. Every year, and each time I am still not convinced it will happen again.
My style of “marketing” is pretty quiet. Quiet bordering on non-existent. What I do:
Hang out here, work on my stucknesses out loud so my people can observe and apply things themselves. Go to the Twitter bar to goof around and blow off steam. That’s it.
I don’t have an email list (other than the please tell me if something is coming one). I don’t do noozletters. Very rarely do I mention products. You pretty much have to take yourself to the shop or come to the Playground if you want to throw monies at us.*
* My coaching services page is completely hidden, because I’m booking private clients four months in advance, and that’s insane and wrong.
During the year our stuff just gets bought, without me reminding anyone that this is a possible thing to do. Come summer, though, not as much.
My people still sign up for programs, of course. But actual product sales slow. I suppose I could change that by actually telling people that we sell things. But meh.
Then — every September 1st — the need for Shivanautical epiphanies or a Procrastination Dissolve-o-Matic returns. This is helping me get better at trusting.
Rituals and doings for the new year.
Oh, I like the symbolic-marking-of-things so much. You know this.
My friend Sivan is doing a really beautiful one. It’s like this:
You go through your living space and make sure you only have things that belong to you.
So if there are books or things you’ve borrowed, you make a point of returning them.
And if other people have borrowed things from you, it’s the time when you get them back.**
** Having a ritual for this makes it easier, because then you can say, “Hey, I’m doing my new year ritual of making sure that my space is full of me-ness, and collecting everything I have lent out.”
You examine what is yours. Literally.
If there are clothes that don’t fit, dishes that you don’t like, things you never use, these move out of your space.
If there are things you want in your space and there isn’t money for them yet, you write these down. You fill your life with things and qualities you want in it. It’s brilliant.
I’m trying to come up with some other things as well.
And who knows, maybe some of them will stick.
I usually have a word for the year. Or a theme.
But what about a color? Or a daily practice that doesn’t have to continue forever, but that will hold me for a month …
For my birthday in March, I had Hiro do a series of special birthday sessions for me, and one of the wacky and great things she had me do was stand in the future (a year from that day) and walk my year backwards.
Literally. In my office. And also in my mind. Walking the patterns of the year, stepping stone by stepping stone. It was awesome.
And the things we saw for January and June were so completely unlikely and impossible to imagine, I knew they couldn’t happen. But imagining them: amazing.
The June thing totally came to pass. Still blowing my mind. We’ll see about January.
But the thing that’s so powerful about spending time with what you want in your year is that it builds clarity, awareness, noticing and the ability to recognize what you want (and work through your stuff about wanting it).
Good stuff. Worth doing.
Anyway. There is no point to this post.
Just thinking about pulling out the fuzzy socks. And reflecting on another year.
And thinking about time and how we mark it and boundaries and distinctions and doing things to say this is where I am now.
And hoping to invent a fun new something or other to bring into the new year while we’re at it.
Comment zen for today…
So. Not everyone likes to mix business stuff and cultural/spiritual stuff and mindfulness stuff. For me, it kind of all goes together. If this isn’t your way, do it another way.
We’re all trying things. And we let people have their own experience and their own way.
Also, you know what would be nice? Could we possibly brainstorm some good rituals of beginnings? Or — if “rituals” weird you out — just some Symbolic Things To Do that encourage mindfulness or elicit a smile or both?
And of course chag sameach and a shana tova u’metuka to you if you are celebrating the new year this week too.
May it be a happy, healthy, sweet, supportive year, full of the best kind of surprises.