A Different Way to Meet the New Year

This past New Year's eve-December 31—I found myself remembering this very same evening 41 years ago, when I was living in Japan. Back then, I initiated what became for me an unforgettable experience: a “time-crossing” meditation—a Zen meditation session ("Zazen") sitting through midnight, followed by watching the first sunrise of the new year.

In Japan, the New Year is called Shōgatsu.In many Zen temples, the transition from December 31 into January 1 is marked not by celebration, noise, or countdowns, but by stillness. For me, at the time, it was a powerful experience and a direct contradiction to the "spirit of New Year's eve" that I had internalized growing up as a child in New York.

Sitting Through the Threshold

On New Year’s Eve, it is customary in many Zen monasteries to sit Zazen late into the night—sometimes all the way through midnight and into the early hours of January 1.This is not a “celebration” in the Western sense. It is a practice of full presence.

Zazen at the turn of the year is meant to cultivate:

Ending without clinging: Not to summarize or judge the year that has passed, but to allow it to end on its own.

Beginning without grasping: Entering the new year without wishes, resolutions, or demands.

Emptying rather than filling: Not asking, “What do I want from the year ahead?” but rather, “What might I let go of?”

In Zen language, this is a practice of Beginner’s Mind—simplicity, openness, and humility in the face of the moment.

Meeting Time at Sunrise

The following morning brings another ritual: Hatsuhinode (初日の出)—the first sunrise of the year. In Japanese traditional practice on January 1, people rise early to watch the sun appear for the first time:from a mountain, by the sea, at a temple, or even from a tall building. It is not merely an aesthetic moment.It is a ceremonial encounter with time itself.

The sunrise symbolizes:

• renewal

• vitality

• life force

• clarity

The sun holds deep spiritual meaning in Japanese tradition, yet even secular people experience this moment as profoundly meaningful.

A Personal Thread

Truth be told, on that particular year—January 1, 1985—I did not get to see the first sunrise.But the spirit of the practice stayed with me.

Years later, on January 1, 2009, as I was turning fifty, I went out at dawn with my late mother to watch the first sunrise of the year from the Jerusalem promenade. My wonderful mother went along with what she surely thought was yet another of my “crazy ideas”. She didn’t really understand where I got them from—but she always flowed with me, always let me express and follow with support. That was who she was. January first is her birthday. I miss her deeply. I wonder if we ever really can "forget our parents"- even decades later- when they have made such a deep imprint on your life.

From East to West—and Back to the Middle East

It is usually around this time of year that I reflect strongly on memories that I carry of the evening of 31 December from Japan, from the Middle East, and from yet another place entirely- New York.

As a child growing up in America, New Year’s Eve was often… disappointing. The unspoken question hung in the air:Who am I going to kiss at midnight?

And the answer, more often than not, was :No one. I remember tremendous pressure, sadness and self-criticism as a youth feeling that "Why does "everybody" have someone and "only I" don't?". I could never quite find the right way, group, event and place to "mark the moment"- New Year's Eve was a clearer downer for me.

Perhaps that, too, was the beginning of an early lesson that has taken years to ripe. Not every crossing needs an audience. Not every threshold needs noise. Some moments ask only for presence, for memory, for quiet gratitude.

And perhaps that is the deepest ritual of all.