On New Year’s Eve

The thing I love about the cusp of a new year is the allowance we give ourselves to be hopeful and reflective. I could easily be quite cynical about all this, of course, but I won’t. It’s not in my nature and I think I’ve grown just wise enough to know that often those who are most cynical are those who wish the most they could find it in themselves to be hopeful. And they need us, we dreamers and hopers and makers of resolutions, as much as we need them, those realists and pragmatists and logicians.

Despite my own sense of hope for the next year, I am not one to make resolutions. Honestly, I’m not good a follow through (exhibit a: the consistency at which I post on this blog). Resolutions, personally, don’t give me much hope, but do you know what does? Words.

Now, you might argue that resolutions are indeed comprised of words. True enough, but not necessarily the kinds of words I want. I need something quite open ended and, ideally, not mine. Instead of crafting SMART goal and piecing together vision boards of all I should like to accomplish over the next 365 days, I am filling myself up with good words from writers I love and exploring the reaches of social media, speaking with others about the different words we’ve chosen to guide us (not command, as I think a resolution does) over the next year.

For instance, I’ve chosen ENOUGH for my word. I am enough. I have enough. I’m doing enough, not letting myself fall into the false narrative that I’m never doing enough when, in fact, I’m often doing too much. Okay, that’s enough bullshit (because we all have to call ourselves out sometimes). I am not too much of a person, either in personality or in physicality, but just enough.

See, words. A word. Rather than shaping myself around a few narrow and select ideas, I have asked a word to shape itself around me, to embrace my life as it is now and walk with me through the next 12 months as I try, like almost any other human, to make things a bit better.

All this said, I find that I  want to promise myself a few specific things (see, I can’t even be pretend cynical; I’m still making resolutions).

  1. That I’ll read more for fun.
  2. I’ll write more, just for the hell of it.

Though I am curled up in a freezing cold house in a sweater and thermal underwear, not a champagne flute to be found, I welcome you into a toast, one filled with hope, great plans for the future days to come, and an embrace of however you choose to acknowledge the passing of an old year and the rise of a new one, because clearly I am in no position to judge.

Happy New Year!



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