I stopped making New Year’s resolutions so many years ago that I’ve lost track. Sure, I start the new year with ideas in mind for the twelve months ahead, just not in the form of resolutions. I don’t want the new year to feel like an annual general meeting, you know? I’m talking about the phrase, “Be It Resolved That” (abbreviated as “BIRT”) in meeting minutes. For my new year? No, thank you.
I’ve got other things in mind.
And I write them down.
On New Year’s Day.
But they’re not punishing in the way that resolutions seem to be. They don’t feel like pass or fail exercises.
At the beginning of every year, I write down a list of things that would make for a great year. All things within reason. All things within reach. And I put into motion what I think is necessary. I revisit the list a few times over the course of the year as a reminder, as a refresher. Am I doing what I need to be doing for the year that I want to have?
At the end of the year, when I look at the list to see how things went, even though every year certainly doesn’t qualify as great, some do (for which I feel very fortunate). There is almost always enough from my penned list, though, to look back on each year and see it as at least a good year (I am grateful for those, too). Even the more difficult years are not without beacons of light: time with those that I love, people in my personal and professional communities that I’m always happy to see, music and art and literature, the beauty of nature. I’m thankful to have these as part of my life, every year.
An orderly annual general meeting is never on my list, I can tell you that. So … be it resolved, my ass, is what I have to say about new year’s resolutions.
Okay, 2024, here we go!
P.S. Of course, for the new year, more than anything on any list of mine, I am hoping for peace and love, out there. More than ever.
a few words ... from Montréal 