Hello, cats and kittehs!
I’ve been seeing lots of New Year’s resolutions across the inturdwebz in the last couple weeks, and while I think it’s awesome to make life goals, this whole resolution thing kind of robs us of living in the moment.
Why not wake up each day and decide to live in a mindful, dedicated way?
The whole January 1st resolution deal strikes me as predictable and perhaps overly self-critical. I’ve certainly made a few in the past, mostly involving comically underused gym memberships, bellydancing class fiascos, and somewhat grandiose plans involving painting a gigantic hypnotic eyeball on the garage door. Failures, all.
You know what works for me? The little things. Those unglamorous (fie!) moment-by-moment decisions that lead to positive changes. And making a commitment.
A resolution is a solution, an answer, a determination in the sense of verdict. A commitment is more of a dedication, dedication, duty, or responsibility type of thing. They sound a lot alike, but this time of year makes their difference quite apparent.
A resolution is a one-shot deal, a kind of event. A commitment is more of a process, something to which you dedicate yourself, and therefore lends itself to a more ongoing sort of duration.
In a few weeks’ time, those folks out there who have made a vurryexciting and vurry social-media’d resolution to hang out at 24hr Fitness, gripping those elliptical levers like grim death, will likely fail, whereas those folks who’ve committed themselves to doing one or two small things each day to improve their physical fitnesss are far more likely to still be at it.
Confession #1: I used to be a Shape magazine junkie. Oh my Lort yes. I would eagerly scan each month’s edition, looking for the “Before & After Success Story” who most closely resembled my perennially Before sitch. And you know what? Those fuckers didn’t have a single magic elixir among them. Assholes. What they did have: the very unsexy daily committment to healthier eating, more activity, lots less negative self-talk. Boom. And I hated them for it.
Confession #2: In 2008 I posted a metric assload of utter BS regarding my many and rather superficial plans for the year. Result? I managed to keep my vehicle running, and that’s about it.
Confession #3: I’m a recovering list-maker. Making lists allows me this really addictive illusion of control over my life, that when I cross or check something off, that I’ve really accomplished something meaningful, when in fact what I’ve done is: check something off a list, albeit with a frisson of shivery excitement. Wheeeee!
Confession #4: Every year since 2010 when I made a deep commitment to my higher self to not only use my intution but to pay some goddamned attention to it, I cheat a little when it comes to envisioning the year ahead. And when I’ve remembered to do it, it pays off.
Stay tuned for the next exciting episode, where I assplain to you what the helly helle I’m talking about. In the meantime, keep rockin out, keep it real, just keep livin’ in the style of Matthew McConaugheyeyuuuy. If you so choose.
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