Reflections not Resolutions

Night time, that time between awake and dreams, is when resolve is at its strongest. The calendar plays no role. Thoughts of weight loss and exercise and structured journal time and life goals and business dreams, and relationship complexities fill my consciousness along with resolve to follow through – this time. The New Year, for me, is not a time for resolutions but for reflection.

It’s nighttime, not a specific date, when I ponder life questions; queries which, to others, become catalysts for New Year’s resolutions: Where have I failed? Am I a success? Where do you find strength and stamina to follow through on resolve to accomplish goals and ambitions? When did I get so fat?

I used to make New Year’s Resolutions – earlier in my life when I was more of a follower. I’d write them down – alphabetically, not in an order of most importance – in a new journal purchased especially for the year’s resolutions. I’d keep track of actions, write notes of accomplishments, and even jot down occasional failures. But by late-February or early March, the journal would get stuffed into a desk drawer (out of sight, out of mind) or the spoiled pages would be ripped out and shredded leaving a relatively new journal with blank pages ready for new thoughts vacant of resolve.

As I aged, I stopped making New Year’s Resolutions. Perhaps because of maturity. Maybe because of failures. Probably because I’m lazy. I do reflect on m life when a new year begins. But I now believe life changes and success occur because we turn our intentions into actions and not because of promises made when turning the page on a new calendar.


Another Saturday...

Staying in bed another hour seemed like such a luxury when in my 20s and 30s. No longer. Now it feels wrong, wasteful, crime-like. The older I get the faster time flies and to spend time in bed without accomplishing anything but feed my own selfishness must be a crime against productivity, creativity, the future ... something. And yet, another Saturday pulling the covers up even further, laying on my good ear so the sounds of the world are muffled through the one that doesn't work so well. Aging and hating growing older. Changes, subtle and sensational, are apparently smothering my ability to enjoy a little luxury in my day...