I used to have the same resolution every year: No Resolutions. I didn't like setting myself up to fail. But last year I tried a new tactic. My resolution was:
More cussing in 2007.
It worked out pretty well. I definitely did better in the first part of the year, rediscovering the days of my youth by letting it fly on a pretty regular basis. My children were agog. By the end of the year, the joy of the four letter word was wearing off, so I sort of fell off the wagon. So this year I have a new one:
More rhinestones in 2008.
I started early, actually, buying myself a lovely rhinestone souvenir while we were in Texas over the holidays. It brightens my world. And I feel confident that my sparkly keychain is only the beginning.
In addition to my resolution, there are changes I'm making in my life. They're not resolutions. They're changes. Course adjustments, perhaps. Like f'rinstance, I've cut back on my paid work time so that I can get back to focusing on my writing. I have a book to finish, so I'm clearing space for it. First I need to make room, I figure, and then maybe I can begin to remember how to be creative, be open, tell the story.
But as I sat quietly today (something I almost never do--this is all part of making space), I remembered about the knowing part of myself. The part of me that already knows what I should be doing, how to open myself to the story, how to get to where I'm heading. That quiet little part deep down in there that never gives advice, but gives an encouraging nod and a twinkle when I'm on the right path. The part of me that just feels right when I land on what I've known all along.
Resolution doesn't just mean deciding, after all. It's not only about our grandiose plans--to lose weight, quit smoking, sparkle more, or whatever. Resolution is also about clarity. We change the resolution on our computer screens when things don't look right. We change the resolution of our digital images to make them less pixellated, clearer. Resolution is about seeing things more clearly.
Maybe my own resolution is simply that "this is it" feeling of heading the direction that I knew was right all along.
Listening for that quiet voice that never speaks, but just nods, and gives a little twinkle.
Like a rhinestone.
In addition to my resolution, there are changes I'm making in my life. They're not resolutions. They're changes. Course adjustments, perhaps. Like f'rinstance, I've cut back on my paid work time so that I can get back to focusing on my writing. I have a book to finish, so I'm clearing space for it. First I need to make room, I figure, and then maybe I can begin to remember how to be creative, be open, tell the story.
But as I sat quietly today (something I almost never do--this is all part of making space), I remembered about the knowing part of myself. The part of me that already knows what I should be doing, how to open myself to the story, how to get to where I'm heading. That quiet little part deep down in there that never gives advice, but gives an encouraging nod and a twinkle when I'm on the right path. The part of me that just feels right when I land on what I've known all along.
Resolution doesn't just mean deciding, after all. It's not only about our grandiose plans--to lose weight, quit smoking, sparkle more, or whatever. Resolution is also about clarity. We change the resolution on our computer screens when things don't look right. We change the resolution of our digital images to make them less pixellated, clearer. Resolution is about seeing things more clearly.
Maybe my own resolution is simply that "this is it" feeling of heading the direction that I knew was right all along.
Listening for that quiet voice that never speaks, but just nods, and gives a little twinkle.
Like a rhinestone.
1 comment:
There is just something strangely appropriate about buying your rhinestones in Texas.
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