Refrains of Auld Lang Syne echo in my mind, an earworm incessantly playing as Day 7 of the new year passes unheralded, another calendar page ripped from the pad, 358 remaining.
Unresolved thoughts for the future, along with reminises of the past create a familiar stirring, questions arising, which direction should I choose - now that another year has arrived? Thumbing through papers, with the pretense of organization being a 'tool' for success, I pause over a clipping, sent to me in a wooden box, by a cherished child, many New Years ago.
The Question, once lived, slowly becomes the Answer.
Letters to a Poet, July 16, 1903
You are so young, so much before all beginning, and I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.