
Be wise; strain your wines
(sapias, vina liques)
Horace, Ode I, xi
Welcome, dear reader* –
This is the second part of the Practice of Decanting. If you missed part one, you can read it here.
As a practical ritual, decanting creates a space in the midst of busy-ness, a type of breathing room.** It allows us a moment of suspended time to take in what has happened and prepare for what is to come.
Decanting also functions as a way to think about ourselves within the long arc of time.
In its simplest meaning, to decant something is to gradually and slowly pour a liquid into a new container, leaving the old sediments behind.
What an incredible metaphor for change.
I long for radical transformation, to wake up and find the extra pounds magically disappeared, my bad habits vanished. Yet most change is the process of decanting -- slow, gradual, built over time, over the accumulation of a thousand moments of the present.
We decant ourselves into ourselves.
We decant ourselves into ourselves.
***
Horace’s ode (Tue ne quaesieris), which advises us to decant our wines and live our lives, starts with a warning to not ask what the gods have planned for us.
Horace’s admonition is about the vastness of the future --its unknown and unknowable state.
The vastness of the unknown, of sorrow, of our worry, of the expectations that fall upon us, of our grief, of our desire for change, even the vastness of our own potential – this is so wild and huge and terror-striking that we can feel we are on the edge of a precipice, terrified that we will topple over, be swallowed up by the magnitude.
And here too the ritual of decanting helps.
The etymology of the word “decant” comes from the Latin canthus, edge or rim, and that from the Greek kanthos, the corner of the eye.
In thinking about decanting as a practice, we are at the edge but not on the edge.
We are glancing over at the vastness from the corner of our eye, taking in what we can, what we are able, allowing ourselves the time we need to be present with who we are now and who we are becoming. Allowing ourselves the time to be present with the vastness of our sorrow and radiance.
***
When we practice decanting –
We slow down time by creating small rituals of meaning.
We acknowledge that change exists within time, with all our smallest moments gathering into larger change.
We manage what is overwhelming by looking at it through small glimpses – being at the edge, not on the edge.
I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Emily
*It was fun hearing from people with their own decanting stories, from beautifully organized pantries to special shelves where library books were “decanted” from their tote bags.
**Thanks to Lisa G. for this idea.