"May all your troubles last as long as your New year's resolution" (Joey Adams)
A tradition as old as the calendar itself. Every December, they sneak into our minds, armed with promises of “new year, new me,” only to dissolve by February into a puddle of guilt, (bitter) laughter, and leftover holiday chocolates. The New Year's resolutions.
There’s something both tempting and tiresome about the idea of them. They advise, “Fix this. Change that. Be better.” We tend to hear it as a wisper from the Universe - "Look, ALL is changing. Grab the oportunity and become the version of yourself, who will be YOU 2.0." A machine waiting for an upgrade, with the complexity of biological rhythms, evolving realizations, needs for safety and own tribe.
So how about this year, instead of resolutions, we make an experiment. One that neglects expectations and invites exploration. Will you take a moment to ask yourself: What already feels right in my life? What small things bring balance or joy? Could these be tended to, nurtured, and expanded?
How about you try this exercise: Find a quiet moment—at your desk, outside, in your car, wherever you feel you can take a moment long enough to not feel a pressure of busyness. Breathe deeply, and let your mind wander to the last time you felt truly at ease. What was happening? Who were you with, or perhaps you were alone? Then ask: How can I bring more of that into my days? Write it down, not as a task list, but as a series of possibilities.
What I've learnt in my practice, is that self-care, growth and discoveries rarely come from grand plans. They come from noticing the small things—kind gestures to yourself, and others, a pause amids a busy day, an act of curiosity. Could we try to let the new year unfold not as a project, but as an open invitation? A chance to meet yourself again and again, with kindness and without hurry.
If we think about it, resolutions often come from a place of dissatisfaction and criticism. We resolve to fix, improve, or eliminate something. But what if, instead of setting ourselves up as a project to be managed, we saw ourselves as an unfolding story? One worth reading slowly, savoring the punctuation and the spaces between. Every moment holds a possibility of a fresh start, not because we need to reinvent ourselves, but because we can choose to realign with what truly matters to us. Our well-being might actually grow if we nourish our gratitude, self-compassion, and search of meaning.
So, how about, when stepping into this new calender beginning, we decide to remember that resolutions don’t define us — rather moments of curiosity, kindness, togetherness and courage do.
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