A writer with whom I’m acquainted,
Once stared at a blank page and fainted.
For the thoughts in her heart
Were too big from the start
and to put them in words left them tainted.

To an optimist, a blank page is the beginning of something; to a pessimist it may evoke dread. To a writer with an idea, a blank page is a promise to keep. It signals the point in creation when everything is possible, when aspirations are poised on the verge of actuality, and intention has not yet been weighed down by the gravity of the work that lies ahead. But a blank page is only valuable for its potential, for the invitation it extends to the writer. Left alone, it is never more than itself. Unused, a blank page is a travesty, a blight.

Today is January 1, the blank page on which the year 2013 will be written. I have aspirations in my heart for the coming year, and I know before putting a single stroke on the page of today that as the year unfolds, some of my aspirations will change, some will fall by the wayside, some will be grieved and new ones will be celebrated. That is the way of creation. The minute I transform the blank page of this day into a work in progress, I will be faced with regrets; that is inevitable. I will get it wrong. I will need do-overs. But if I become afraid of the process, if I become captive to the beauty of the blank page and forget why it lies before me I will have wasted myself.

My hope for all of us this year is that we recognize the blank pages that lie before us, and that whatever our medium, we transform those pages one day at a time into lives well lived. They may not achieve the aspirations we had for them, but neither will we be found guilty of squandering them.

Happy New Year.