It’s odd how we have placed into place such an imperfect, almost totally arbitrary system of numbering the years and months, and yet we simultaneously tend to put such importance on that same system.
Days and years are based in reality, the rotation of the planet and its orbit around the Sun, things that existed long before humans did and will survive long after we’re gone. But seconds, minutes, hours, weeks, and months are all artificial, as are the starting points of the year.
There is a loose association with the “new year” occurring about the time of the winter solstice. The days get shorter, the nights get longer, winter comes, and early humans start to get hungry and die with no knowledge or assurance that the Sun will return along with spring and summer. But then the days DO start to get longer. That right there is a known, measurable point to start the year. And perhaps it did at one time lost in the passage of time.
But the year isn’t exactly an even number of days long and over millenia the beginning of the year drifts away from the solstice.
Nonetheless, we stick with the system now and choose this not-so-special “special” day to reflect, to sum up, and to look forward. We make resolutions, vowing that on January 1st we’ll be better humans than we were on December 31st.
Sometimes we actually are.
We Love The Stars Too Fondly 