We’re almost there. Next year. And, like many, I’m thinking of next year….now. New Year’s resolutions abound everywhere. They are ubiquitous. Naturally. The flip of the calendar from one year to the next has a way of doing that to most of us, me included. It’s symbolic – out with the old, in with the new. A fresh start. A clean slate. I didn’t publish resolutions last year; I kept them in my head, but I haven’t kept them. Naturally. At least, that is natural for me. I start the year with good intentions. Gung ho. Brimming with vim and vigor. Or maybe it’s piss and vinegar. Anyway, I start the year with hope – hope that I’ll keep my resolutions. Hope that I’ll change, that I’ll improve, that I’ll start, that I’ll stop. “Hope,” as Emily Dickinson writes, “is the thing with feathers.” Hmmm. It always seems to flit away – that hope – taking my resolutions with it.
I’m not sure why I have trouble keeping resolutions. Maybe they’re too specific. Or too broad. Or too ambitious. Or maybe I’m just lazy and unmotivated and undisciplined. Maybe.
Thoreau (one of my favorites) advocates that we “Simplify! Simplify!” I’m going to take his admonition to heart this year.
That’s my resolution.