I’m sure I’m not the only one starting the new year with a mix of dread and optimism. Dread, because we are likely to see systems—at home and abroad—breaking down, with people and the planet bearing the brunt. Optimism, because… why not?
The holidays have been reflective times for me. My meditations included listening for the Muse, or any inner voice of wisdom, to offer guidance for the year ahead. This week, I received a simple yet profound message:
Find the gold.
I understood that this wasn’t about looking for the silver lining. While reframing situations can be positive, the silver lining metaphor often bypasses the pain of a situation, focusing instead on hypothetical good. (Do this to a friend newly in grief, and you might earn the swat you deserve.)
Looking for the gold, however, invites us to acknowledge both brokenness and beauty. You can see the cracks in a concrete sidewalk and still marvel at a daisy reaching toward the sun. Or perhaps the gold lies in the interplay of light and shadow, or in the patterns formed by the fractured concrete.
Seeking the gold stretches our perception, encouraging us to see more without inventing a positive spin.
The Alchemist Adventure
The ancient alchemists saw gold not just as a valuable material but as a connection with the Divine, symbolizing perfection, purity, and enlightenment. I like to imagine that, instead of despairing over the futility of turning base materials into gold, they found solace in the process itself—staying focused on the sacred during daunting times.
Our task is simpler. We can find gold by training our eyes to look beyond appearances, uncovering beauty or magic we otherwise might overlook. Finding gold doesn’t take us away from the material world; it enriches our experience of reality.
For me, this quest is both simple and challenging. The hardest part is slowing down and approaching the world with fresh eyes, as though I didn’t already know what was happening. I’m emotional by nature, so cultivating equanimity is a stretch. Observing deeply—truly seeing how things grow or change—requires time and attention I’m still learning to cultivate.
Yet the effort is worthwhile. Sometimes, my pencil becomes an ally, helping me capture the contours of a leaf or an everyday object. Drawing, even as a beginner, is a practice that helps me see more deeply. Other times, gold emerges from my imagination. Are the trees talking to each other? When I imagine they are, a sense of magic fills me.
And always, gold comes from love—a force that carries its own golden light. Seeing a smile on my aging husband’s face or hearing the gurgles of my new great-granddaughter, Charlotte, both fill me with joy, gratitude, and yes, gold.
Sharing our discoveries
This year, let’s dedicate time to seeking gold and share our discoveries. Undoubtedly, we’ll face surprises—some wonderful, some unwelcome. Politics? I’ll leave that alone for now. Life’s personal challenges are enough. Two years ago, I grieved the loss of friends and family; this year, I’m keenly aware that loss can lurk around the corner.
But so can magic, mystery, beauty, and gold. Today’s Seattle weather is dank and rainy, so I started my day with Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto in A. Its haunting beauty, like a golden thread, melted a heart chilled by winter’s gloom.
So buckle up. We’ll need each other on this journey—to point out where the light seeps through the cracks in this beautiful yet sometimes broken world.
And for a treat, I offer you this cover of “Fields of Gold” by the incomparable Eva Cassidy, whose untimely death reminds us that gold and grief can travel together.
2 Responses
I did not know of Eva Cassidy until you included her song “Fields of Gold”. I loved her voice, her presentation, of the words. I looked her up on Goggle and learned of her death due to skin cancer, it made me feel quite sad. Also, I found out about the singer, songwriter from Vashon that died of suicide that you had mention previously, also, very sad. I seem to be having more sad moments these days/years than I can remember. I also know that is only relative to time, meaning that there have been times of sadness for me in the past…I suppose it is because I tend to be a sensitive guy and now that I’m 3 months into my 80th year, it seems to me that I may be overly sensitive, or empathetic to things, to people’s situations, that do make me feel for them, and many times it includes disappointment, anger, frustration, etc. There are plenty of major concerns these days, both here in my family, our country, and around the world.
I also know from experience that for me, two things: I get over it relatively soon, and I don’t stay in that place…I move on to other things that need my attention or that I want to be doing. Going over to my studio/shop to work on projects for our house or the apartment (that is in the same building as my studio/shop) is very good for my mental health and I am making some sculptures again…whether I go to the effort to enter any of them in any requests for artists, is another issue. [The requirements of having to enter most competitions thru on-line sites has become more of a hurtle for me than in the past…take photos, the file size has to be as specified, and only one photo if the art is 2-D, maybe two photos for 3-D art, post the photo/s in a specific place, etc., etc. I should force myself to get over this, maybe with some coaching, or hire someone to do this for me.]
It is good to have your newsletter, and the views you share. Thank you.
I, too, Les feel like I’ve gotten more sensitive with age. And also resilient. Both seem to be gifts of aging. Great to hear from you!