Resolute in 2025

I stopped making specific new year's resolutions a few years ago, probably around the time I turned 50 and realized that the years march on regardless of my more-healthy diet or my vow to spend less time on my phone. Ideas for self-improvement float into my head year-round, and the restlessness has previously fed my need to stay busy, to do meaningful things, to deny myself rest. While these personality traits are difficult to shake, wisdom won through trying experiences has made me want to be resolute in the face of whatever comes, and not to make resolutions to make myself better for mysterious times ahead.

My friend Hana sent me this lovely poem by Donna Ashworth that expresses such sentiments better than I can, and I want to share it with you.

"On the stroke of midnight tonight,
You can resolve to be better, if you like...
To be fitter, to eat cleaner, to work harder.

On the stroke of midnight tonight,
You can resolve to become a 
Whole new you, if you so choose.

Or, you can take a moment to acknowledge
All you already are,
Because it's a lot. You're a lot.

And you deserve to be commended.

On the stroke of midnight tonight,
Perhaps you could congratulate yourself
For coping, for breaking again,
And for rebuilding again.

For catching the stones 
Life has thrown at you and using them
To build your castle that
Little bit stronger.

You have endured, my friend.

And I don't see the need to resolve 
To become a whole new you,
When you are already so very much indeed.
Happy new year. You made it.

Now let us face another 365-day turn, 
Arms wide, accepting and embracing
And 'seeing' each other
For all we are."

Happy New Year xxoo!

New Year, New Outlook?

 A friend of mine posted on social media that his resolution for 2023 was "set the bar low."  My eyebrows raised of their own accord, and I stopped mindlessly scrolling to read in more detail. Did he mean to give up? Schlump away my January in PJs and pizza boxes? While that sounded appealing, I couldn't in good conscience click "like" until I read more.

"Set the bar low" was a missive cloaked in click-bait, of course. My friend meant to accept what is and appreciate all the good that exists in the present state. Offering encouragement to love yourself as you are, to appreciate everything you can about current circumstances; he even asked readers to lower the bar for family members. "Don't expect much," he said, but enjoy all of the quirks and idiosyncrasies that evolve. 

That last sentence holds challenge and appeal for any mother. If I could lower the bar for my 16-year-old, would that look like more chips and salsa in the bedroom? More spilled chocolate milk on the stairs? Or would it give me space to enjoy the unique sense of humor, the endless sports trivia, and blur the edges of a harmless snack-food addiction?

The  New York Times recently offered the best advice from its readers over the year of 2022. One of my long-time favorites emerged: "be where your feet are." The reminder to be in the present, free of expectations, worries, regrets, echoes out a part of the "low bar" post. They both urge us to let go and live. But the more I read the words and the more I write about them, the harder this advice seems.  Why is it so much easier to spin up the anxious, forward-looking movies in my mind than to appreciate the present moment? 

So I'm going to attempt to set the bar low and stay where my feet are in 2023. Despite the humble words, I suspect it will be difficult. But difficult's my happy place - a hard-to-achieve standard for the year to come. Now that I've warped my friend's words into a terrible challenge, I'm finally resolution-ready.