New Year's Resolutions

I use to spend the week between December 25^th and the first of January consuming holiday leftovers, finishing off half-full bottles of wine, and contemplating that one critically flawed component of my life that I would resolve to tackle in the coming year. Almost invariably there were a few extra pounds on my bones that I determined to eliminate - join a gym, run a half-marathon, learn to rollerblade, eat better, give up alcohol, etcetera, etcetera. Then there would be some particular goal intended to improve the more creative and/or intellectual side of me – travel (somewhere), take classes (of some sort), write, learn to speak another language, etcetera, etcetera. And, of course, I felt compelled to work on those pesky little personality flaws that kept me from becoming a truly good person – mostly boiled down to – be less opinionated, speak less, listen more.

Come January 1^st, I resolved towards self-improvement and jumped into the mission with full gusto, inspired by the renewing opportunity of a new year. Over the years, I managed to meet many of my goals. I joined the gym, ran the half-marathon, purchased those skates, and said good-bye to all white “non-food” products. I walked the cobblestone streets of Florence in the rain, dived with the sea turtles off the coast of Roatan, and enjoyed safari in the Okavango Delta. I earned a post-graduate degree, started a blog (you’re reading it), and published an essay in a literary journal. And, I learned to say “Hello, how are you?” and “I am fine, thank you” in Setswana (“Dumela mma/rra, o kae? Ke teng, ke a leboga.”)

The rest of the story, as one would say, is an all too well known one. That gym membership lasted two years longer than I did. The half-marathon was my first, and my last. After two falls, the rollerblades were safely put away in their specially design backpack in a little used closet. I became over educated and underemployed and yearned for unvisited places. I remained ever committed to chocolate and wine, always had an opinion, and no matter how much I tried to listen I still talked more. Most interestingly, I remained forever self-critical – and instead of celebrating my wonderful experiences, berated myself for not fulfilling my expectations of perfection in achievement and timeliness. So, some years back, I decided to embrace the old adage of “no expectations, no disappointments,” and resolved never again to make New Year’s resolutions.

That is until a few weeks ago. As I sat with a group around a campfire, someone handed me a small piece of paper and a pen and instructed, “Write what you’re leaving behind in 2011 and burn it.” Caught by the element of surprise, seduced by the concept of burning something, and faced with no expectations to share with anyone but the universe, I momentarily forgot my skeptic approach to resolutions, quickly scribbled two words, and tossed the paper into the flames. Proud of my truthful declaration, no matter how quiet, I felt ready to face the new year.

Then a funny thing happened last week (not on the way to the Forum, but hanging around a kitchen island drinking wine and munching on snacks with friends). Someone asked, “Does anyone have a New Year’s resolution?” Without skipping a beat, I yelled “Twenty pounds!” I immediately felt I had betrayed myself. These were not the two words the flames had engulfed only a couple of weeks ago. Why had I resorted back to the old standby – back to the place of self-criticism and lack? Why, at a time when so many people attack themselves and others, did I find it so difficult to speak of my desire to be part of a healing world?

It took me about twenty minutes, while the rest of the group discussed exercise and travel goals, to summon the courage. Then in a quiet moment, I sheepishly, and ironically, declared, “I want to live without fear and doubt.” I’m not sure if anyone got it; but it felt good to say it out loud. Now, I am ready for 2012.

The power of one mind can shine into another, because all of the lamps of God were lit by the same spark. It is everywhere and it is eternal.

Look gently on your brother… Follow in gladness the way to certainty. Be not held back by fear's insane insistence that sureness lies in doubt. This has no meaning. What matters it to you how loudly it is proclaimed? The senseless is not made meaningful by repetition and by clamor. The quiet way is open. Follow it happily.

When you have felt the strength in you, which makes all miracles within your easy reach, you will not doubt. The miracles your sense of weakness hides will leap into awareness as you feel the strength in you.

And if you choose to see a world without an enemy, in which you are not helpless, the means to see it will be given you.

- A Course in Miracles