Time has raced by, yet also crawled at a snail's pace over this past year. It's been a whirlwind of events, a mix of the good and the bad. People have departed, friendships have faded, and the meaning of things has shifted. Health has taken the forefront of daily concerns, and peace has become a cherished commodity. The world, relentless as ever, continues its ceaseless march forward. Each of the statements I've just made holds its own narrative, its own universe of realities.
Yet amid this cacophony of life, there's a singular focus that stands out—the commitment to a journey of self-transformation that I embarked upon over a year ago. I recently revisited the original blog post I wrote back in May of 23, and here I sit, one year after the 3rd of March, the day I resolved to undergo a personal metamorphosis through a year-long commitment to wearing white clothing.
When I first embarked on this journey, my mind was consumed with practical concerns. How would I manage the laundry load of all these white garments? What about the cost of a new wardrobe, with at least 8-10 pairs of pants for the week, just in case of spills or mishaps? These questions swirled around my head that day and lingered, until they simply faded into the background noise of my life.
People often ask me what it's been like, or if I intend to continue now that the year has drawn to a close. I'll be candid with you—it feels like an integral part of who I am now. The thought of donning anything other than white attire hardly crosses my mind anymore. In fact, I made an exception recently, wearing a Patriots jersey (Brady, of course) to my brother Trey's football party for the Superbowl.
My brother's only requirement was that attendees wear the jersey of their respective teams. Now, I'm not one to purchase NFL gear, and I certainly wasn't keen on sporting any Raiders apparel (a house rule enforced by Trey for non-compliant guests, much to my amusement). So, on my birthday, a mysterious package from my neighbor arrived—a Brady jersey in Patriots colors.
I chuckled at the cosmic humor of it all. Though I hadn't broken my resolve of avoiding NFL gear purchases, here was a Brady jersey, a gift from the universe itself. With that, I decided to wear the jersey (blue, red, white), with everything else remaining white. "Only for you," I told my brother.
It didn't feel like a setback, nor did I dwell on it. Before and after the game, my whites were there, beneath the jersey, an inseparable part of me now. They've woven themselves into the fabric of my being, so to speak. I once heard that if you can discipline yourself consistently for a month, you can claim it as your own, make it a part of you. A full moon cycle. Extending that discipline for 12 months only solidifies that commitment, etching it deeply into your existence.
That's precisely what these past 12 months have done for me. They've changed me—not necessarily for the better, but for the necessary. They've aligned me with where I need to be in my life at this moment. The white cloth, symbolic of purity and renewal, must remain pristine, shielded from the grime of everyday life. I stumble and falter on some days, but I've learned that it's alright.
This, I've come to understand, is the essence of living—to rise again, to face each day anew, even when darkness looms. We, as beings of light, step back into the radiance, time and again. The past year has gifted me with a wealth of knowledge, personal anecdotes, and manifestations that will continue to unfold and illuminate my path...quite literally.