Each January we welcome ourselves into the new year ahead. We start fresh, looking forward to a year full of new beginnings and often the kicking of old habits. RESOLUTIONS ABOUND! Things to do, and stop doing. Things to toss; things to keep. Money to save, and money ear-marked to spend. This is the time to lay it all out there, often publicly, for accountability or attention (or a little from column a and a little from column b.)
We’re probably all going to lose 20 pounds and save more money, in 2018, yes?
Now I ditched resolutions a long time ago, partially because at some point in our history, the meaning of resolution morphed from “the thing about which you are resolute (definite; unyielding)” to meaning “completely unrealistic goal that you are almost certainly not going to accomplish.”
I don’t enjoy setting myself up for failure. Life is hard enough as it is. Resolutions felt like an extra layer of pressure I didn’t need in my life. Like watching Game of Thrones.
However, for those of you who know me, you know I can’t pass up the opportunity to reassess things. The only thing I like more than planning and organizing and setting goals (and completely overthinking things) is…well, let’s be honest. There’s nothing I like better than those things.
It’s *my jam. *
You should know that most of the time, my head is *spinning.* I have a LOT going on up there in about 82 different directions simultaneously. So, the beginning of the year finds me not making resolutions per se, but rather taking the time to write it all down. Get it out of my head. Map it out and start to draw connections between ideas, and getting rid of the stuff that feels like clutter. It’s the kind of mental spring cleaning that I desperately need and look forward to doing.
And this year (thank you Christina Wallace) I mapped it out IN SPREADSHEET FORM (yeeeeeah, that happened. It’s an 8-tab Excel sheet. It’s super impressive, if I do say so myself. You know, if you’re a SUPER nerd.., which I am.)
Basically, I take this brain-noise, throw it all out there, find the themes, take out the trash, and develop a roadmap for my year. What’s this year going to center on? What is it about? And since I am a lover of words, instead of resolutions, I typically try to come up with a guiding word for the year. A mantra, if you will.
Having just one actionable idea for the year ahead helps me to focus my energy without pinning me down with super specifics (drill down to the big picture? Oxymoron, what?)
Now the beauty of having a January birthday (beyond Gladwell’s Outliers theory, which I’ve gotta say, is compelling) is that once I come up with my WORD, it sort-of ends up being the theme for that year of my life.
This trip around the sun, I think about this one guiding principle. A natural bookending to all things lived. And if it ain’t about THAT, put on the shelf for next year.
As I stumbled up on my 42nd (yeah, there that is) year on this Earth, I pondered my word:
• J and I have now been married 6.5 years. And we're good. And we're happy. We’re in a groove.
• We just bought our forever home with no plans to leave. I’ve never had that before. Previous to this? I lived in 15 apartments/ houses over the last 24 years, in 7 states. Oofa.
• Our family is complete. No more kids. Just us 4. Plus a picket fence (it's not picket.) Maybe a dog someday.
• Our kids are in the schools that they will attend until they are in high school.
• There's no foreseeable change in my job. Or city. Or home. Or finances.
Finally. FINALLY. I get to settle in. Make a home. Make a budget. In what will become my hometown. No more insane changes. Now is the time I really get to hang things on the wall (both literally and metaphorically.)
I get to establish habits. And routines. And traditions. No more "I'll lose the weight when I'm done having kids." I'm done having kids. Now's the time. I’m not getting younger. It’s not getting easier.
No more "when things settle down, I'll look into writing that book." Things are as settled as they'll ever be. Now's as good a time as any.
No more "I'll make a budget when I don't have so many crazy incidental costs." I'm as settled as I'm getting. Now's the time to figure out my savings and retirement and insurance and college funds.
I don’t think I realized how transient I felt in my life until this Christmas, when I got to do things like put the Christmas tree up, you know, where our Christmas tree will go. And decorate the house in a way I want the kids to remember. I didn’t realize how little stock I had put into traditions (which are really just routines to which we assign meaning, right?) until I put effort into it this year and realized that it was kind of a first.
I WANTED the routines to mean something.
I had told a friend that I thought that my word this year would be establishment. The establishment of routines and traditions and life as it will be for us. You know, to *get* established.
But the more I have reflected on it, I think my actual word is constant- “a situation or state of affairs that does not change.”
Finally.
Exhale.
When Douglas Adams wrote the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, he thought that it would be a hilarious joke for this master computer to work for years and years and simply spit out “42” as the meaning of life, the universe and everything. There was no deeper meaning in his mind—just a fun number to say to confound the masses. (Hilarious.)
In the years following, people found it very hard to accept that it was random. That it just meant nothing. So much so, that multiple lists abound on the interwebs of “important events in world history centered on the number 42.” There has even been a group of Cambridge astronomers who have found an important connection to the age of the universe and the number 42.
Know what it is? They call it the “essential scientific constant.”
Forty-two is the constant. Right. (Thanks, Universe.)
I was trying to explain this all to J this evening and, ever the skeptic, he scoffed a bit.
“Go looking for meaning in something and you’ll find it there.”
Heh. I suppose that’s true.
But isn’t that what we’re all doing?
Maybe I’m looking too hard for a connection to my Constant mantra and my 42nd birthday. Maybe it’s just another year, and another birthday and another mantra.
Or maybe, 42 really will come to bring me the meaning of my life, my universe and my everything—a reminder that however random (and hilarious) it might seem, there is some consistency to the galaxy, and our lives…if we look for it.
We’re probably all going to lose 20 pounds and save more money, in 2018, yes?
Now I ditched resolutions a long time ago, partially because at some point in our history, the meaning of resolution morphed from “the thing about which you are resolute (definite; unyielding)” to meaning “completely unrealistic goal that you are almost certainly not going to accomplish.”
I don’t enjoy setting myself up for failure. Life is hard enough as it is. Resolutions felt like an extra layer of pressure I didn’t need in my life. Like watching Game of Thrones.
However, for those of you who know me, you know I can’t pass up the opportunity to reassess things. The only thing I like more than planning and organizing and setting goals (and completely overthinking things) is…well, let’s be honest. There’s nothing I like better than those things.
It’s *my jam. *
You should know that most of the time, my head is *spinning.* I have a LOT going on up there in about 82 different directions simultaneously. So, the beginning of the year finds me not making resolutions per se, but rather taking the time to write it all down. Get it out of my head. Map it out and start to draw connections between ideas, and getting rid of the stuff that feels like clutter. It’s the kind of mental spring cleaning that I desperately need and look forward to doing.
And this year (thank you Christina Wallace) I mapped it out IN SPREADSHEET FORM (yeeeeeah, that happened. It’s an 8-tab Excel sheet. It’s super impressive, if I do say so myself. You know, if you’re a SUPER nerd.., which I am.)
Basically, I take this brain-noise, throw it all out there, find the themes, take out the trash, and develop a roadmap for my year. What’s this year going to center on? What is it about? And since I am a lover of words, instead of resolutions, I typically try to come up with a guiding word for the year. A mantra, if you will.
Having just one actionable idea for the year ahead helps me to focus my energy without pinning me down with super specifics (drill down to the big picture? Oxymoron, what?)
Now the beauty of having a January birthday (beyond Gladwell’s Outliers theory, which I’ve gotta say, is compelling) is that once I come up with my WORD, it sort-of ends up being the theme for that year of my life.
This trip around the sun, I think about this one guiding principle. A natural bookending to all things lived. And if it ain’t about THAT, put on the shelf for next year.
As I stumbled up on my 42nd (yeah, there that is) year on this Earth, I pondered my word:
• J and I have now been married 6.5 years. And we're good. And we're happy. We’re in a groove.
• We just bought our forever home with no plans to leave. I’ve never had that before. Previous to this? I lived in 15 apartments/ houses over the last 24 years, in 7 states. Oofa.
• Our family is complete. No more kids. Just us 4. Plus a picket fence (it's not picket.) Maybe a dog someday.
• Our kids are in the schools that they will attend until they are in high school.
• There's no foreseeable change in my job. Or city. Or home. Or finances.
Finally. FINALLY. I get to settle in. Make a home. Make a budget. In what will become my hometown. No more insane changes. Now is the time I really get to hang things on the wall (both literally and metaphorically.)
I get to establish habits. And routines. And traditions. No more "I'll lose the weight when I'm done having kids." I'm done having kids. Now's the time. I’m not getting younger. It’s not getting easier.
No more "when things settle down, I'll look into writing that book." Things are as settled as they'll ever be. Now's as good a time as any.
No more "I'll make a budget when I don't have so many crazy incidental costs." I'm as settled as I'm getting. Now's the time to figure out my savings and retirement and insurance and college funds.
I don’t think I realized how transient I felt in my life until this Christmas, when I got to do things like put the Christmas tree up, you know, where our Christmas tree will go. And decorate the house in a way I want the kids to remember. I didn’t realize how little stock I had put into traditions (which are really just routines to which we assign meaning, right?) until I put effort into it this year and realized that it was kind of a first.
I WANTED the routines to mean something.
I had told a friend that I thought that my word this year would be establishment. The establishment of routines and traditions and life as it will be for us. You know, to *get* established.
But the more I have reflected on it, I think my actual word is constant- “a situation or state of affairs that does not change.”
Finally.
Exhale.
When Douglas Adams wrote the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, he thought that it would be a hilarious joke for this master computer to work for years and years and simply spit out “42” as the meaning of life, the universe and everything. There was no deeper meaning in his mind—just a fun number to say to confound the masses. (Hilarious.)
In the years following, people found it very hard to accept that it was random. That it just meant nothing. So much so, that multiple lists abound on the interwebs of “important events in world history centered on the number 42.” There has even been a group of Cambridge astronomers who have found an important connection to the age of the universe and the number 42.
Know what it is? They call it the “essential scientific constant.”
Forty-two is the constant. Right. (Thanks, Universe.)
I was trying to explain this all to J this evening and, ever the skeptic, he scoffed a bit.
“Go looking for meaning in something and you’ll find it there.”
Heh. I suppose that’s true.
But isn’t that what we’re all doing?
Maybe I’m looking too hard for a connection to my Constant mantra and my 42nd birthday. Maybe it’s just another year, and another birthday and another mantra.
Or maybe, 42 really will come to bring me the meaning of my life, my universe and my everything—a reminder that however random (and hilarious) it might seem, there is some consistency to the galaxy, and our lives…if we look for it.
