By the dawn of each new January I'm usually eager to shed the antlers of the last 12 months in favor of sprouting a more learned and mature set of prongs. It begins with New Year's Eve night, an occasion in which I participate with reckless abandon. When it comes to glitter and dancing and the opportunity to mark the affair with a red hot kiss, I'm all in. In the days and weeks leading up to NYE I'm overwrought with inspiration for the possibilities of the months to come; every aspect of my day to day from news bites to new recipes seems to be riddled with some revelatory quality. Riding high on a dazzling wave of ambition, hope, and childlike enthusiasm, penning resolutions and setting out to achieve them, traditionally, is a breeze. (Here comes the "but....").
The year Twenty Twelve has, until recent hours, been woefully lacking in specific purpose. Sure, I've been tossing around resolutions since December... Like they're candy spilling from a piñata; the vessel is abused and the contents are so scattered that I grasp at them in a constant frenzy. Moreover, I've wasted countless hours trying to outline said resolutions in terms of some grand elucidation. Everything from the news of the death of a stranger in Austin, TX to photographs of the Chinese New Year have been feeble fodder for contextualizing what I hope to accomplish in this next solar cycle. Know what each of these fleetingly gripping tid bits has in common? None was moving enough to mobilize me to concrete acts of 2012 volition.
Before taking this to its turning point (can you feel the perspective shifting?) I have one more confession to make... I love wine. What was once an innocent vehicle of post-work relaxation has metamorphosed in to a serious dulling agent. No, I'm not sitting on my couch punch-drunk and sloppy, but I am far more prone to just sitting on the couch. That's it. Happily lulled, curled up under a blanket cuddling the laptop, I've grown accustomed to spending my evenings refreshing Facebook and scouring the net for beautiful things to dream about as the moon illuminates my tired silhouette through the back door and I develop my Pinterest catalog. How easy it is to believe that good living is pinning photos to a virtual bulletin board of hopes and dreams when it's so darn comfy to do so! Shame on me for giving in to such sloth.
It's no secret to anyone who has taken a few mindless moments to read my blog entries, I am an avid proponent of relaxation, of time to pause, of leading a well-paced life. However, I'm afraid that somewhere along this path to eternal peace I've managed to lull myself a little too deeply. Oh, it's quite lovely and important to grant myself the gift of doing nothing, but only after engaging in a host of fulfilling somethings. Simple things, like time to exercise or do yoga, like waking up early enough to enjoy breakfast (and a healthy metabolism) at home, like writing and crafting and reading, like even having the energy to do those things, all of these are important to the psyche, and they're the stuff of earning the right to relax.
I'm not sure I would have been able to understand my New Year's malaise in these terms had it not been for a dear old friend and the recent launch of her first blog Breakfast in the Bay Window And I should have known all along that it's the minute details of being human that I find most reanimating, that reflect the most potential, but this year I struggled to discover it until she went public with eloquently simple accounts of her days in Brooklyn, in particular, the beautiful breakfasts that begin her day. Simple pleasures. I took one look at her spoon collection (a grapefruit spoon, a table spoon, a teaspoon, a spatula...) and immediately understood that in the lollygagging of recent months I've forgotten to acknowledge those otherwise inconsequential elements of the daily grind. In the exact instance of this epiphany I experienced the New Year. The adrenaline of the flood. The desire to do rather than to be, no matter how modest the doing may be.
The older I get the more I accept that malleability is the essence of life, so let's just call this a cursory list of actions planned in carving the marble of Little Laura 2012... (Only a month late, right?)
1. Write write write! This will be at the top of my list from now until the day my last lucid brain cell surrenders to senility. Even then, I hope I have the motor skills and vocabulary to compose completely out of my brain, whether it's coherent thoughts or complete lunacy. Some people look to pyschedelics to unravel the meta-mysteries that are all folded up and buried within their core, others rely on therapy to make sense of limitations, attributes, and struggles that are beyond their own resolution, and I am not one to judge either of these methods of self-realization. I think every mind is a labyrinth, and we either learn how to walk the path or we spin 'round senseless in a constant back peddle. What I have known as early as the first time my tiny hand wrapped around a pencil and formed a complete written sentence is that the more I express myself through language, the more introspectively productive I become. It doesn't have to be shared, it doesn't have to be brilliant. It just has to be written in to existence.
2. Purge and Reinvent! I cherish every last shred of evidence that I have roamed the Earth for 28 years. I treat my lifetime like a museum, building exhibits full of little artifacts as phases fade and are reinvented. Does that mean it's important or constructive to love a box if letters that sit on a top shelf in my closet, overflowing with names and stories I can barely recall? Does that mean I really need the stickers and patches I amassed 15 years ago roaming Bardstown Road as a baby punk-hopeful? It's ok to pick and choose what constitutes a tangible time capsule and what can be relegated to fuzzy vacuous memory. Sometimes making a little extra room is all it takes to invite new adventures in to your life.
3. Do! My whole family, on both sides, works with their hands. My mother's parents were gemologists and jewelers, a profession and passion later inherited by my uncle; my Mother and I took weekly trips to the hobby shops in search of new crafts and activities; my father supported a family, purchased a comfortable home, and financed two cars and endless luxuries on the blue collar salary of a lineman for Bellsouth, building hundreds of networks of phone service around the city for 37 year before retiring. It is literally in my DNA to occupy these tiny ten digits. Delectable dishes, obsessive repurposing, handmade furnishings and a never-ending queue of weekly projects are just the medicine for a complacent routine.
4. Achieve! I believe a recently younger version of myself once asserted, "Put plainly, I don't aspire." Not to be taken out of context, I was referring to aspirations born of riches and power. Still, what was I thinking?! What a ridiculously hopeless thing to say, whether articulated with tongue in cheek or not. I aspire. I want to do something extraordinary this year. I don't mean saving lives, running for office, or accumulating unplanned wealth, I just want to make meaningful strides toward the next phase in my life. I want to bid adieu to 2012 feeling a better sense of direction and establishment.
5. Save! In a continuum of importance, money would be on the very lowest end of my priorities. Still, it's a continuum, and with every low there's a high point. I'm dying to travel.. Like, yearning. A couple of years ago Sean and I took an epic 3 week road trip that expanded my mind, stretched my limitations, and broadened my priorities and aspirations like a sling shot; I became over-extended and energized, and when let go my mind and spirit soared to indiscernible destinations. We're always embarking on little quests and close-to-home exploits, but I want to see the world with my partner in crime. This year I want to find the discipline to save money, looking toward the future and all the misadventures it may hold. (Oh, and a new-used car would be a bonus).
6. Be Well! This isn't about putting batteries in the scale or counting calories. It's about finding natural energy and illuminating clarity. Remember that aforementioned wine vice? It must be tamed in favor of more active hobbies. This will come naturally when Spring is sprung and being indoors gives me figurative hives, but in the mean time, I have to get my butt in to gear! Downtown Y, I'm going to milk you for that $--.00/month I've superfluously paid up until now! Fruits and veggies take warning, I'm climbin' in your windows, snatchin' yo nutrients up! This isn't entirely mind over matter... My body is craving meditation, stretching, muscle mass, and a smorgasbord of healthy feasting.
7. Grow! The only real resolution I have this year is to constantly tug at the indices of my mind, body, and heart, to expand and grow in any and every way the universe offers up, to live every day knowing that my daily activities are contributing to realizing the best version of myself. At the core, isn't that what resolutions are all about anyway? Whether they're superficial (I'll go to the gym, I'll drink less), spiritual (I'll spend more time in meditation), or altruistic (I'll listen more to my friends, I'll be more sensitive to the needs of others), all resolutions are made in the spirit of attaining goodness.
This year, at least in the coming months, is devoted to rediscovering the small stuff, to taking an active role in pampering myself every day with simple gestures that require special care, while recognizing the occasional value of granting a mindlessly lethargic reprieve. Oh, and all that adult stuff like saving money and buying curtains, too.
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