I do not want to reflect. I want to refuse reflection. Even though there is so much to reflect on. When I think of “reflection,” what comes to me first is that I must make myself suffer by going over what I did wrong and what I need to improve. The weight carried by the word “reflection” is considerable. It is time to stop wishing I could pretend not to know, and to look back at reflection itself. The proper result of reflection should be hope, found by identifying what needs to be improved, rather than blaming oneself and regretting what has happened. This year, everything moved rather quickly. Even reflection. Without enough time to find what needed to be improved, I think I apologised quickly for the things that called for reflection, and just as quickly built a logic to rationalise them.
I reflect on reflection.
I reflect on myself for not giving myself enough room to reflect fully.
For seven years, I closed my eyes and meditated twice a day. Sometimes it was barely three minutes, and sometimes it lasted more than twenty. I learned that when meditation is done properly, two things remain. Reflection and gratitude. In 2025, I should make time for reflection again.
Whether I intended to or not, I committed many wrongs this year too. I may have hurt someone with my words. Within the scope of what I know, there are many things I need to improve, and there must also be many things I need to improve without even being aware of them. I am now enjoying the luxury of gathering with acquaintances, without great anxiety, worry, or trouble, and writing about “reflection.” That fact alone carries me over the mountain of reflection and out to the sea of gratitude.
In 2025, I want to have more room as I cross the mountain of reflection. Rather than barely lifting a fallen tree and heading toward the next peak, I want to slowly plant the sapling called improvement after reflection, and watch it grow. I want to make the mountain called reflection a little greener. I will let the feeling of being moved reach the sea of gratitude.
Starting tomorrow, twice every day, I will gently close my eyes, so that at the end of each day, only reflection and gratitude remain.