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Cycles

© Michael P. Spencer

As we move into a new century, metaphors of rebirth abound from virtually all sources of communication. Our lives are focused in one linear direction, and time is something we wish we had more of. None of us is ever sure what will happen to us tomorrow. We are never fully secure that we will wake up in the morning to see another day. We live balanced on a thread of hope, the strands of which are derived from the knowledge of thousands of days that we know have come before the one we are living right now. Indeed, hope is what fuels us to set our alarm clocks believing that there will be another day in which to continue our labors. How do we know there will be another day in which to work? Because there was a yesterday.

Birth, death, and rebirth is the cycle in which thousands of cultures on this planet have been placed. Nations that we will never have knowledge of lived this way. It is inherent in everything that we see and do in our lives. It is the rhythm that moves us. Each day is born as the sun moves across the sky and dies as the moon comes to take its place. Another day is born again. Every living thing must be born, must die and must reproduce itself - or it no longer exists.

I can't myself begin to comprehend the mystery of the universe and the perfection of its creation, but the quiet faith I've tried to foster over my lifetime makes it acceptable. I've been reading about Taoism, and I'm becoming more comfortable with not having all the answers. My attitude now is more like, if answers come, wonderful. If not, wonderful. I guess I didn't really need them anyway. I can always try something else tomorrow. That's why tomorrow exists.

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