View From the Top > Esteemed Reader

You live in the past—the past is dead. Act in the present.
Then the future perhaps will be different.
—Proteus

Beginnings are seeds. Just as the oak that towers full-grown is the macro of a unique acorn, so is every facet of a life an outgrowth of its ongoing inceptive acts. Nothing matures and grows without a conception. Everything that follows is contained in that conception.

Those who don’t understand this fundamental principle stumble through the darkness of the blind; ever struggling to change the results of what has been immutably established; ever striving to catch up with the results of past deeds. This mode of living could be called “reactive”. To re-act is to attempt a correction upon a previous action. But correction is impossible. It is like trying to make a tangerine into a zebra. Reaction arises from a mode of living that is inherently stale, infected with the dis-ease of the past and addiction to the fantasy of an improved tomorrow. This mode is very tiring—hopeless, even—in its futility.

Those who know the secret of beginnings can create and recreate their lives. They use the secret to realistically and unsentimentally perceive the outcome of new endeavors at their inception. And those who know understand that every moment of life is equally important, equally a beginning. They see events as an opportunity for re-creation. They leave the past behind and begin again with each breath—inhaling, taking in the new; exhaling, letting go, expelling accumulated results of the foregone.

A Persian saying expresses one aspect of the significance of beginnings: “When you plant the seed of ‘if’, nothing grows.” Just as a strong beginning gives rise to an equally strong process and conclusion, so a doubtful beginning gives rise to a corresponding outcome. Doubt, like “double” means two—two conflicting, mutually neutralizing impulses. Without singularity, actions are impotent. Nothing grows. Incidentally, the word “devil” has the same root. That’s why he has horns—two of them (which we hang upon)—and their name is Dilemma (Greek—“two propositions”).

John launches his gospel with a powerful statement about origins: “In the beginning was the Word.” Verbum. The ineffable sound. We tend to interpret this as an etiological poeticism. Alas, it does not refer to a past event. In the invisible world John is addressing, there is no past or future. There is only the eternal Now. This moment is the growing bud on the great tree of Now. Emulating the Source of John’s Word, we too can utter a fresh sound. A sound that is wholesome, confident, unencumbered by past patterns and resentments. Now, we can take new, relevant gestures that make waves that will lap the shores of every other person in the world, and will make a graceful karmic loop to grace us with future beneficence. It is the sound we utter at the beginning that sets the pattern for what is to come.

Practically, morning is a crucial time. The whole day is a projection of the moments following awakening. How do you begin your day? With “music” or bad news blaring from a tinny alarm radio; and then stumbling to the bathroom for relief and a depressing look in the mirror? Or is the morning begun with a peaceful, relaxed ritual? Remembering yourself and feeling the gratitude that flows from that remembrance; then feeding your mind with useful, edifying—even inspirational—material (for as the body is what it eats, so too is the mind).

Then the day unravels. Each experience is an opportunity to perpetuate the old, unpalatable past, and it is equally an opportunity for re-creation. A fly lands on your leg. A door is held open for you on exiting. You deposit rubbish in a receptacle. A glance emits from the eyes of someone passing on the street. You carry a morsel of food to your mouth. You inadvertently take in a headline while standing on line at the convenience store. You step from warmth into biting cold. How are these things received? How are they responded to? What transpires within you and what actions do you take? These are beginnings.
Life begins at 20. Or is it 30? Or 70? Nay, life begins now. Make it fresh, new. Get in the habit of being unhabituated. Shed the past like old skin. For if we can recognize that each moment is the beginning of the rest of our lives, everything can be different.

—Jason Stern