So this is how I feel about New Year's resolutions:
I think they're great. I think the feeling of the fresh start of the new year is a great way to be inspired to start anew and create some different, hopefully better habits. But I have a problem. Not with setting new goals and wanting to improve in certain areas of our lives. My problem is with January 1st. Somehow this day gets reserved as the day of the year that is held above all others as the day we "change"; the day we "do better"; the day we start to exercise more, or eat more vegetables. While those are all good things, I think that we need to hold the other 364 days to the same standard. I don't feel like going to the gym any more on January 1st than I do on October 8th.
But it's because it's a beginning. The calendar says it's the beginning of a new year and we feel like we should start fresh and set goals. When we were in school, the promise of a new semester was always so exciting. Getting new notebooks, opening up to the first fresh blank page was so invigorating, and we almost couldn't wait to go to our first lecture and take notes. (Just me? Ok, I get oddly excited over new notebooks). But that thrill quickly faded (probably by the end of the day) because there was only one beginning, and the rest was "downhill" from there.
So...I challenge you (and myself), to create beginnings throughout the entire year. In reality, every day is a new beginning. Baby steps though. Maybe set a goal for every month, and then every week, and then maybe eventually you'll be able to see every day as a fresh start to do with it what you please. All it takes it waking up with an intention.
Today my intention was to go somewhere and take pictures. I have a new fancy camera, and it does pretty much everything short of cooking popcorn, so I need to learn how to use it.
I went out to North Bend, which is about 30 miles east of Seattle. I grew up right under Mt. Si, and I've been missing it lately and I figured it would be a good subject for some pictures. I drove the 45 minutes to get out there and the whole valley was so socked in with fog that I couldn't see 50 feet in front of me, let alone the giant mountain 4000 ft above me. I took pictures anyway. Because sometimes, no matter what your intention, the universe has other plans, and we have to roll with the punches.
And then I remembered that this is my world, and I know how to get above the clouds. And I found my mountain.