I’d just begun to date a letter to my friend Katie, because I’m going to work harder on my interpersonal skills in the new year. “January 1, 2010… uh, er, duh”, I say as I crumple the paper and pause. I sat for a few moments in deep thought and silence until the sound of the paper escaping my tenuous grasp jarred me.
A new year, and a resolute new beginning, all within twenty-four hours and for some of us, with a hangover no less. This is totally feasible. Not. In fact I can’t think of any worse way to start a new year than with the pressure of staying committed to some arbitrary cause I thought up whilst making yet another trip to the restroom. Surely, anything of significant life-altering importance shouldn’t be contingent on Dick Clark’s OK. Is Dick Clark, okay? I digress.
So, I’m sitting here staring at the piece of paper that’s fallen to the floor and thinking how I don’t really feel like reaching out today. I also thought about how happy I’ve been in virtual seclusion for the past 4 months, since I’ve trimmed my already lean social circle. Still reflecting, I looked down at my hands, brilliantly battered from the creativity that helped bring my family comfortably through another year with me in the home. Then, I rose and stretched and sneaked a peek under chairs and behind closed doors where children of the rescued and now, thankfully barren womb variety rest peacefully, and I smiled. Then, I returned to my desk and instead of writing Katie, who I know will understand, I wrote this post.
More than a resolution, we can all use a moment of quiet reflection; an in the moment realization that our mere presence, however small, makes a big difference in its current, perfectly imperfect state. So, have a cookie, skip your jog, ignore the phone, cuss, shop, sit a while. It’s OK, tell ‘em Dick Clark said so, that seems to be working.