A paradox of thirty-one days. One month. One word. Too many resolutions and too little time to turn our attention from the previous year to the one already underway, pulling us along before we are completely done with our past.
Always divided with itself, torn between what was and what will be, just like the god it was named after. Janus, that divine soul is one whose features are split in two for she must forever keep her gaze on the river of time that overlaps and circles itself so that a person may be at once here and there, both moving forward and stuck at a fixed point in the past.
Let its divisive nature be January's strength. When it tears itself from the strain of living the paradox of inward-looking winter and the promise of spring's emergence, let those ripped and ragged edges be filled with light. Let the gap that has emerged from the tensions between your reclusive nature and your desire to experience this world be a passageway, a doorway to another universe in which your contradictions are the stars that illuminate your path, not the stones in your pocket that weigh you down.
And if you are lucky, you might even find nourishment in the space between one close door and another just waiting for your gaze to fall upon it so that it may wink into existence. Pomegranates, fat and full with garnet seeds, will sustain you as you travel down this new road. Each fiery drop you slip between your lips is a soul-seed sown deep within your belly to birth new intentions, sparks of light to guide you back to the eternal flame within yourself when the nights seem darkest and the path split in two.
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