A Kinder Gentler New Year
And I really suck at lot of other things. Ironing. Driving go-Karts. OK driving period. Elapsed time awareness. Telling way too long stories. Remembering why I went to the grocery store in the first place…
Naturally people tend to reflect on the year coming to a close and visualize a new year starring themselves, minus all the things they’d like to change. I imagine hopping out of bed, writing perfect prose for an hour before reading a chapter in my pile of books before cooking a breakfast involving kale and maybe even some yoga or taking the dog for a mile run. If I got up at 4, I could totally swing that. Probably for most of a week, but by Friday I would probably sleep past my alarm, forget I have a dog in my I’m-sooooo-late panic, run a red light, get a ticket, and show up late to an important meeting in hopelessly half-ironed clothes looking generally homeless.
Change is hard. Improvement is easier.
A few New Year’s Days ago, I made a list of things I wanted to pursue more and less of in my life and choices. I don’t make resolutions because I’m probably not going to extract whole parts of my personality; however I can certainly make small, daily incremental choices resulting in more of what I want my life to be about.
By design, people aren’t meant to be perfect. Deep thoughts and all, but when I consider the parts of my make up that I’d just love to toss off a cliff, I’m reminded that those annoyances serve me well. Sometimes.
My too long stories remind me that I savor the details in moments I find meaningful. I can’t remember where my hairbrush is, but I remember how friends like their coffee, the story someone confided in me about when they felt afraid as a child, and that bag someone loved and will probably get for their birthday. I remember sweet conversations and every detail about someone’s expression from dimples to how the light changed the color of their eyes. It means I listen and empathize. I don’t notice that an hour passed in what I swear was 5 minutes because I’m present in the moment. It means I know my shortcomings and rely on something bigger than myself and practice my faith because otherwise I’d live in a world with perpetual wrinkles, always late, and picking myself apart over things that really don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
Driving. OK, I still just suck at driving.
Cheers to baby steps and living gently in a pedal all the way down world.