Erin Wooddell
“How do you feel about New Year’s resolutions?” one of my friends asked at happy hour last night.
For some reason, I thought she was going to ask what we normally resolve to do in the new year, not how we felt about the task. It took me a moment to determine my own feelings and then I realized I was fairly impartial. I’d tried making resolutions growing up, but they never stuck. As I got older, I stopped bothering to make them—especially serious ones that were hard to live up to.
Another friend said she tended to be against the practice. Her belief was if you wanted to start something new, why wait? Start today. You don’t need a refresh on the calendar to begin a new project or way of life.
Then, my friend who asked the question smiled sheepishly and said, “I LOVE them.”
For her, the task of starting over, wiping the slate clean and beginning again held so much joy and promise that she looked forward to evaluating what had happened in the past year, while looking ahead to the new one.
Intrigued by her enthusiasm and optimism, we asked what kind of resolutions she usually makes. Imagining the same response as most people, I was happily surprised when she said, “The same as last year: Write more hand-written notes and wear more red lipstick.”
“How do you feel about New Year’s resolutions?” one of my friends asked at happy hour last night.
For some reason, I thought she was going to ask what we normally resolve to do in the new year, not how we felt about the task. It took me a moment to determine my own feelings and then I realized I was fairly impartial. I’d tried making resolutions growing up, but they never stuck. As I got older, I stopped bothering to make them—especially serious ones that were hard to live up to.
Another friend said she tended to be against the practice. Her belief was if you wanted to start something new, why wait? Start today. You don’t need a refresh on the calendar to begin a new project or way of life.
Then, my friend who asked the question smiled sheepishly and said, “I LOVE them.”
For her, the task of starting over, wiping the slate clean and beginning again held so much joy and promise that she looked forward to evaluating what had happened in the past year, while looking ahead to the new one.
Intrigued by her enthusiasm and optimism, we asked what kind of resolutions she usually makes. Imagining the same response as most people, I was happily surprised when she said, “The same as last year: Write more hand-written notes and wear more red lipstick.”
I smiled as I sensed her joy over these goals—these happy, positive, attainable goals. And it made me wonder why, as a culture, we don’t choose more resolutions like these. Why do we put so much pressure on ourselves to go to the extreme?
As I drove home, I realized that though I don't religiously make resolutions in the new year, I do constantly add to my bucket list. And the practices are pretty similar.
And both lists carry a large amount of pressure.
With this on my mind, I got home and opened the special journal I long ago designated as the holder of my dreams. Its leather cover shows off an antique, raised map of Venice, with gold inlays over street names and waterways. I drew a deep breath and opened the book. It had been awhile. Inside the first page I saw a list for things I want to learn: Learn the piano, learn the cello, practice the flute again, practice the saxophone again, regain competent conversation levels in French, learn Italian... just to name a few.
Chuckling, I thought about how busy my life has been since moving to this new town. How ambitious of me to want to learn two brand-new musical instruments when I can’t even find the time to practice the two instruments I do play.
Wondering what else I’d written down as goals for my life, I turned the page to find a list of the 50 states with itemized details about where I’ve been and where I still have to go. The next page had a list of overseas travel. My next list was much more specific, and one I shared with you last December—my Christmas Season Bucket List.
As I read through the list, I realized that this Christmas season I’ve accomplished two of the 10 items: I’ve attended a symphony performance of the "Messiah" and watched The Nutcracker with the accompaniment of a live orchestra.
With glee, I took out a pen and put a check mark next to those items on my list.
I closed the journal with a sense of great achievement and decided then and there that while resolutions and bucket lists can put a lot of pressure on a person, they have the potential to be pretty wonderful if approached with the right attitude. So this new year, I fully intend to join my friend's enthusiasm and make happy, positive, attainable goals for myself. And the next time I see her, I hope she's sporting a fun, new red lipstick.
As I drove home, I realized that though I don't religiously make resolutions in the new year, I do constantly add to my bucket list. And the practices are pretty similar.
And both lists carry a large amount of pressure.
With this on my mind, I got home and opened the special journal I long ago designated as the holder of my dreams. Its leather cover shows off an antique, raised map of Venice, with gold inlays over street names and waterways. I drew a deep breath and opened the book. It had been awhile. Inside the first page I saw a list for things I want to learn: Learn the piano, learn the cello, practice the flute again, practice the saxophone again, regain competent conversation levels in French, learn Italian... just to name a few.
Chuckling, I thought about how busy my life has been since moving to this new town. How ambitious of me to want to learn two brand-new musical instruments when I can’t even find the time to practice the two instruments I do play.
Wondering what else I’d written down as goals for my life, I turned the page to find a list of the 50 states with itemized details about where I’ve been and where I still have to go. The next page had a list of overseas travel. My next list was much more specific, and one I shared with you last December—my Christmas Season Bucket List.
As I read through the list, I realized that this Christmas season I’ve accomplished two of the 10 items: I’ve attended a symphony performance of the "Messiah" and watched The Nutcracker with the accompaniment of a live orchestra.
With glee, I took out a pen and put a check mark next to those items on my list.
I closed the journal with a sense of great achievement and decided then and there that while resolutions and bucket lists can put a lot of pressure on a person, they have the potential to be pretty wonderful if approached with the right attitude. So this new year, I fully intend to join my friend's enthusiasm and make happy, positive, attainable goals for myself. And the next time I see her, I hope she's sporting a fun, new red lipstick.