Craig Constantine

A phrase for 2025

2025? Inconceivable! Still, it’s time to settle on my yearly touch phrase for 2025.

SERENITY

In 2012 I began selecting a phrase or word to use as a guide. David Bourne pointed out there’s a word for that: Cynosure.

When I picked the phrase in 2012, I didn’t imagine it would become a yearly ritual. It required significant reading through my journals to realize I even had chosen cynosures for 2012 and 2015. Over the years I’ve used the following:

2012 – Will-power and self-possession
2015 – simplify
2017 – “A dream is just a dream. A goal is a plan and a deadline.” ~ unknown
2018 – hell yes! or, NO.
2019 – NO.
2020 – get less done
2021 – festina lente
2022 – choose wisely
2023 – choose today
2024 – HUMILITY

There are echoes. For example 2022’s is effectively a refinement of 2012’s. And there’s an over-arching story of simplification and increasing self-awareness. What more could I ask for?

Mostly I use these cynosures in my journaling. I generally end each entry by writing it, followed by memento mori. Here’s the end of 2024…

I’m obviously reminding myself of these ideas. I’m also preparing for my certain death. I will one day write a final journal entry, and it would be fitting to have “memento mori” be my final journaled words.

My choice for 2025 is meant to be aspirational. In some journal entries in December I was writing about themes I might seek more of in the new year; Tranquility, contentment, or perhaps gratitude? Serenity won out because I’d like to maintain my serenity, at all times. Even when active. Even in the midst of chaos.

Lazy summer afternoons

June 20, 2023

If I want to recall peace, serenity, pleasure, I think of myself on those lazy summer afternoons, with my chair tipped back against the wall, the book on my lap, and the pages softly turning. There may have been, at certain times in my life, higher pitches of ecstasy, vast moments of relief and triumph, but for quiet, peaceful happiness, there has never been anything to compare with it.
~ Isaac Asimov

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Looking at new things

November 27, 2022

The third reason is that looking at new things, even if they’re just new streetcorners or deer trails, helps me recover a certain uncomplicated way of looking at things that used to be automatic when I was a kid.
~ David Cain from, https://www.raptitude.com/2022/05/how-to-get-the-magic-back/

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Just as I read this, it occurred to me that a big part of the “magic” of my experience with Art du Déplacement (aka parkour) came from the effect that Cain is describing. I’ve always felt that when I decide to “just go out” and try to train, there was always some component of magic missing. By myself, it always felt simply as if I was slogging away at “exercise.” When I’m invited by others to join them, quite often somewhere I’ve not previously been, there’s a lot of “looking at new things” that happens automatically. Randonautica (click through to Cain’s article) is clearly one way to force that novelty upon oneself.

A rare repeat

August 30, 2022

Because sometimes I experience small periods of blissful serenity. I’d particularly like to be able to go there on a more regular basis. It seems to me that spending about 10 days doing nothing but meditating in silence would be a delightfully mind-altering experience.
~ Me from, https://constantine.name/2019/08/30/waiting-for-the-next-one/

I’m a process maniac. I have automation that feeds me links to my historical blog posts. This one from three years ago was something I really needed to reread (and was therefore very glad I was given the nudge to do so.)

Serenity

July 21, 2019

The most prominent quality of this state of presence is the quiet that comes over the outside world. You can still hear the city noise and traffic, but the loudest thing has gone silent, which is your normal mental commentary.
~ David Cain from How to stop your mind from talking all the time

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Sometimes I manage to bring myself to the present moment.

Sometimes a feeling of serenity appears.

Sometimes I notice I’m staring at the horizon with a benevolent feeling suffusing my existence.

It happens too rarely.

Each time it does, in the subsequent moments—as I’m dragged down from that brief enlightenment by my personal zombie horde of thoughts—I’m left only with a echo…

MEMENTO MORI