Phew! What a relief. No New Year Resolutions for me.
‘A Quiet Read’ by William Kay Blacklock
I think that, on balance, I have enough to get on with, without feeling guilty that, yet again, I have made – several – promises and didn’t keep them. At the start of any year, who needs that kind of pressure? In fact, making any promise to do or not to do, so often feels like a taunt, an invitation to stray. So now I save my headspace for things I want to get done: phone that friend, go shopping, go for a walk, do some work. Just do it.
Perhaps because the New Year is so close to my birthday, when I was younger, the New Year was an almost sacrosanct time for starting over, beginning again, doing better… But by whose measure should that be judged? My own view of what I was doing, was – and too often still is – inclined to disappointment and perfectionism. Which is to say, that I too often failed to notice the many small-step achievements that inch me from A to B, and castigated myself too readily for not reaching the stars when I said I would.
Perhaps now is not quite the right time to arrive at the stars. Or perhaps, I would be better to realise that I get to the stars one small step at a time; doing a small thing towards a big aim is so much better than doing nothing at all.
So progress in small steps is the order of the day, and thankfulness that I usually manage to do – most of – what I plan to do. Which sounds far more sustainable than a bunch of promises to myself that I know, almost even before I make them, I will feel guilty about.
There is no substitute for the small determination that takes us an inch forward at a time.
Thanks for reading, and Happy New Year 2019. May all our dreams come true.
As the end of term hoves in view, it’s time for me to take a break from blogging, though I will pop in from time to time.
In past years, I have done my best to continue working through the holidays, but that rarely works. We have commitments in other parts of the country and in other countries, which makes blogging impractical, so now I take a rest with my family and enjoy seasonal down-time when it comes.
Thank you all so much for reading, commenting and supporting my blogs.
Looking through the the list of what I’ve previously written about, I’m amazed at the number and range of my topics in the last few years. There are plenty of subjects I will be taking another look at in 2019. In the meantime, if there is any particular subject you would like me to write about, please let me know. Suggestions are always very welcome.
I hope that you and your friends and family have a lovely, restful Christmas, and that New Year 2019 is our best year ever for good news, positive outcomes and enjoyment.
As Christmas comes and a time of new beginnings draws near, what useful lessons have l learned that I might take with me into 2019?
I am capable of far more than I ever thought possible. Though at times my life resembles that of a juggler and fancy-footwork merchant, if I just work steadily towards a stated aim, I’ll get there.
Doing a little of my own work every day, no matter how busy I might otherwise be, feels better than doing nothing at all.
Since we are worthy of consideration and respect, my opinions matter less than I think they do.
Receiving is as blessed as giving. Despite the emphasis, perhaps especially at this time of year, on giving gifts, it is vital that I show my appreciation to others for what they give me, and allow them the joy of recognising the ways in which they make me happy.
Heart-centred living is more restful and productive than head or mind-centred living. There is much talk of mindfulness, which means, quietening our ‘mind chatter’ to find peace. Another way to look at peace, is to notice that if we consider all our actions through the prism of the heart, instead of the mind, the mind is naturally quietened by the loving alternatives, which reveal themselves without much fuss or noise.
I can easily do one thing a day – give money to charity, pick up litter, take the bus instead of driving – to help the planet and feel that I am making a difference.
It’s easier to live peacefully when I do what I choose first, then attend to the needs of others.
Thinking about Life, the Universe and everything, I feel that it is now time for me to commit. Considering all the articles, the books and blog posts I’ve written about being positive, staying cheerful, finding meaning and purpose in mundanity, I’ve finally come to the point where, instead of saying, “Some day, I wlll…” I am now thinking, “Now I shall…”
I’ve decided that ‘positive’ is going to be my default. Okay, so that doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly evolved, or that I will never be … usefully angry again – which I take to mean, moved to decide something when I feel strongly. What I mean is that, I will no longer use negativity or those oh so familiar negative narratives (that sometimes announce themselves so clearly in my head!) to wallow, or to excuse myself from trying my best, aiming for the stars and giving life my best shot, every day, all the time.
Because, after living in the slow lane – aka merely existing – for so long, and after compromising my wishes almost to death, I owe myself that. I owe my husband, my daughter, my mother and my sisters that. And I’ve wasted so much time in unhelpful thinking, I don’t want to waste another second.
Positive is what we say it is. Positive is how we see ourselves, what we do to assist ourselves to feel good, purposeful and useful. It shows up in the ways we choose to have fun, the clothes we wear, the books we read, all the ways we relate to other people. And honestly, there are so many lovely things out there, colourful, bright and life enhancing, and there are so many truly gifted and wonderful people in the world, that I no longer have no excuse for accepting anything that takes away from my enjoyment of these.
We do deserve to treat ourselves well, and to hope for and anticipate the best. We never “have to” sell ourselves short. So from now on, I’m going to hope for the best, and live as if I really mean it. Wish me luck!
Admitting one simple thing – yes, I would like a more interesting life – has amazing knock-on effects. Conceding that I don’t need to keep a handle on everything in my immediate sphere – it’s all right if the laundry ain’t washed today and meals aren’t cooked, because hubby can have a stab at it when he gets home – has started a ball rolling. Or the knitting to unravel, the dominoes to fall. At the moment, changes are everywhere.
So too, if I want to write well, I have to make space for it; by clearing the diary properly, by not answering the phone or by saying, “Sorry, I can’t, not today,” when my resolve weakens and I do answer the phone that rings. I can prepare properly, and that helps the alchemy. I can’t expect to squeeze good writing out of or into the cracks and small, agitated spaces around what else I’ve always done and that I don’t enjoy.
It’s strange, how educative it can be, to be unwell, to have a sore back and to hobble. Or to face one’s end of tether. So that, when the mist clears, I decide it is high time to have more fun, enjoy myself and to that end, to parcel off the boring, routine tasks in another direction for a while. Or to just leave them for a day until I feel more in the mood to tackle them. In the winter, I now send heavy laundry to the laundrette, where it is washed and dried for me. It’s taken a while, but I finally feel that I’m getting a handle on making life more interesting.
The theories around freedom and happiness that have obsessed me for decades not only make intellectual sense, but now begin to work for me so that I can feel much happier, while I also notice that my relaxed state and my happiness are infectious: My family are more communicative, and the unfolding happens more easily without all the pushing and shoving that used to attend my efforts at progress.
The same philosophy helps me in business too. Whereas, previously, I believed I had to keep up, search and find, locate and unearth opportunities – and I still enjoy a treasure hunt – nowadays, I allow life to bring stuff to me. Other people have reminded me that they also work this way, so it’s a method I can use and learn from. So long as I am clear and available for ideas to come, they will. I’m listening. And it’s a relief to stop running.
Running away from awful situations is a good survival strategy. It works, simply because in situations of dire stress or difficulty, sometimes it is the best we can do. And I have run away many times, from lots of situations that tired me out or that I could not handle. But running away is only a survival strategy because eventually we have to ask ourselves, “What do I stand for?” and stand for it. Eventually, we stop running.
People who typically run away might suppose that life’s consequences will range from disappointing to catastrophic, and the sooner they outrun such dire likelihoods the better. Being the inheritor of a Presbyterian cynicism with its folk wisdom such as, “If we’re spared”, “It’ll all end in tears” and “mark my words…” in my neck of the woods, being positive and cheerful is sometimes likened to the kind of naivety that is simply begging for trouble. It can be hard to remember that not only does every situation the potential to end well, but sometimes, “bad” outcomes are superb teachers.
As I finally stop running and stand and wait for whatever happens, I don’t have to talk about it. I don’t have to share my intimate thoughts. I can just notice the change. Perhaps, once again, this is the result of ageing: we tend to run when we are younger and fitter, but even as we do that, we are admitting that it is a temporary strategy and that “one day” we will sort everything out. So, maybe that day has come, and it’s an opportunity to do all the things I’ve been dreaming about, take those chances, while I’m still fit enough to enjoy them.
And we do have to stand up for what we believe in, otherwise, what is the point? We can’t always take refuge in daytime television and bags of popcorn.
“Lucy Sullivan is Getting Married” by Marian Keyes
I like Marian Keyes. Correction, I love Marian Keyes. Her writing, that is. And probably her too, if I was ever lucky enough to get to know her. It’s been said before… but I find her books brimming with empathy and the kind of dark humour that so often appeals to me. It’s as if, in drawing her characters, her own life, with all its ups and downs, is waiting just below the surface of the “fiction” to reveal itself, full of the hidden, twisted logic that so many of us resort to when our lives are less than stellar. There is a fairly universal appeal in the humour, the hidden compromises and the self-knowing deprecation.
I have read LSIGM before but, as is so often the case with good books I re-read, I have collected very different messages from it this time around. While ostensibly about a group of women who get their fortunes told and see them fulfilled, this is really a story about a woman’s coming of age. She is in her mid-twenties, when she realises that the role model her father offered as she was growing up was not supportive; and in order to break away from the usual, poor compromises she takes for granted, she has to see things as they are, and not as she would wish them to be.
I’m very glad I have read LSIGM now, because the deeper messages of self-worth and making the best of life, deserving to be happy and not settling for less, are what I need to hear right now. The more I read of this story, the more I gleaned of value until I was sitting totally engrossed, watching the emergence of a shy character from caterpillar-dom to full, glorious butterfly.
The psychology of this novel is gripping and very well observed. I have learned a lot from reading Ms Keyes’ novels, but this unassuming volume is my current champion for all oppressed persons everywhere. If you have issues around trying too hard, wanting to be all things to all people, addiction or co-dependence, take a gander through this funny, heart-warming story and you may find that at its heart it has more than sentiment. Highly recommended.
I believe in environmental sustainability, and I believe in the essential capacity of most people to overcome challenges. So I’m not too gloomy about our future prospects, though many people and organisations paint a bleak picture about the future of this planet.
But I have a slight problem with those who say I must cut down my carbon footprint and do more to live sustainably. Sustainable options usually involve the exchange of convenience – a car to drive to work, a plane to fly us to Australia – for something less impactful, that takes longer and gives a new pace to life – so we take the bus to work, or we walk – and this I do understand. Except that I already live quite a modest life, and, as far as I can, I live low-impact. I cut down my use of water and turn out the lights, I eat only a little meat, I don’t do dairy or sugar or beef or white flour, and I have clothes in my wardrobe that I’ve had for two decades. The list goes on.
Yes, I would love to do more to reduce the impact of my life on the environment. And yet, the time it would take me to go swimming, riding or shopping without a car would make these activities a practical impossibility. I would have to hire taxis, and how environmental is that?
I’m glad my daughter can leap up and down the stairs like a gazelle. Some days it takes me ten minutes just to reach the front door. So the injunction to her to cycle or walk might be a minor inconvenience. To me, that kind of injunction means I would live almost exclusively at home. Which is not how I wish to live.
So the question becomes, what can I do to help with the environment in such a way that I do not feel personally and socially compromised almost to the point of atrophy?
I went out to pick brambles recently, and there were none. Someone has cut back all the bushes, and anyway, it is far late in the season: the warm weather may be deceptive, but I can’t cheat the calendar. So instead, in a different kind of harvest, I filled a bag with litter, recycled most of it and threw lots of shredded plastic into the bin. That is something I can do, and do regularly, to help the environment, gain some exercise and fresh air, without surrendering more of my normal life to the cause of environmentalism.
It is a challenge to keep faith with our ambitions when there seems to be so little tangible reason why we should. I’m sure in a year’s time, all the reasons why, will become clear…
Life and its routines continue much as usual, with the added dimension of seeing my mother much more often, of helping her, while also helping myself to see the advantages of her society. And her lessons to me – not always the ones I expect – help me to prioritise the necessary disciplines of writing, blogging and planning future projects.
We may say that, in aiming to do what we most yearn to do, it is a good idea to steer clear of politics, bad news, projects or people that drain our resources. And of course, I agree. But I also know that there is value to be gained even from those things that I don’t like. Thank God. Almost everything that happens – even the sad, the exhausting and the dubious – carries within it very valuable lessons.
I say, for example, that I am “tired of doing the housework all the time,” but in fact, that is merely me, telling myself that I have got used to doing too much for other people; and that if I have turned housework into a constant bugbear, it is up to me to change that into something more manageable.
If I don’t like spending my time doing mind-numbing jobs, reading mediocre books, listening to music that does nothing for me, or watching violent movies, there is a very simple solution. I can stop. I don’t “have” to do anything for anyone that they are capable of doing for themselves. I can stop (!!) doing laundry, making meals, organising diaries, remembering stuff. Because, by doing that kind of thing, I am actually implying – so subtly that I haven’t even realised that is what I have been doing – that other people can’t do it for themselves. A belief and a message which is destructive and entirely counter-productive. How, then, can I get more help with stuff I don’t like doing? Stop doing it.
So the things we say we don’t like, give us very valuable lessons about how we see our lives panning out: an increasingly important message for me when I feel that my days as an independent, professional person are numbered. Having had a very sore back for the best part of two weeks, I have been saddened to reflect that when I had a healthy back and better mobility, I did nothing much with that, except lots of things for everyone else! How disempowering my behaviour has been, to me and to others.
Instead of simply choosing to gravitate towards what I enjoy doing, I have used the bully-stick to do stuff that others would so much rather do for themselves. But if it takes a bad back, a sore head and some painful, sleepless nights to see a way to do what I prefer, it is worth it. Which is why I say, all life contains lessons.
It’s interesting, in the midst of life’s tribulations, what I have learned, and how lessons suddenly distil to small realities: when I fall over my walking stick – FGS! – which I am deploying because my sore back is recovering after I blew my nose – FGS! – I have a choice. In the midst of confusion, boredom and tiredness, I can either (a) give in to a sense of hopelessness, bemoan my fate and wish myself elsewhere; or (b) I can laugh at the absurdity of everything. It often boils down to a simple choice: I can laugh, so I do.
What use do we make of the things that happen to us? We can worry about what has been, and what will be; we can fret about wasted chances, mistakes, boredom and the horrible repetition of small tasks that drives us up the wall; we can recognise that everything that happens is a gift that we are squandering and feel bad about that and filled with regret; OR we can decide that life is always a gift, and that nothing that happens needs be a squander or a waste, because there are lessons to be learned in everything: the good, the bad and the ugly.
Believe me, when I am getting myself up from my umpteenth fall in the last few weeks – a sign, typically, that all is not well – it helps to remember that we are unerringly free. An instant cure for despair, you might think, or the ramblings of a deluded fool, perhaps.
I don’t care how solace comes to me, so long as it works its magic and allows me to keep going for another day. So I drop all the regrets, the worry and the hopelessness that threatens to swamp me, and I simply relax, knowing that all is well and that every smile makes a difference to what happens next.
January 3, 2019
Not making New Year Resolutions
Fran Macilvey Fran's School of Hard Knocks, Happiness Matters 8 Comments
Not making New Year Resolutions
Phew! What a relief. No New Year Resolutions for me.
I think that, on balance, I have enough to get on with, without feeling guilty that, yet again, I have made – several – promises and didn’t keep them. At the start of any year, who needs that kind of pressure? In fact, making any promise to do or not to do, so often feels like a taunt, an invitation to stray. So now I save my headspace for things I want to get done: phone that friend, go shopping, go for a walk, do some work. Just do it.
Perhaps because the New Year is so close to my birthday, when I was younger, the New Year was an almost sacrosanct time for starting over, beginning again, doing better… But by whose measure should that be judged? My own view of what I was doing, was – and too often still is – inclined to disappointment and perfectionism. Which is to say, that I too often failed to notice the many small-step achievements that inch me from A to B, and castigated myself too readily for not reaching the stars when I said I would.
Perhaps now is not quite the right time to arrive at the stars. Or perhaps, I would be better to realise that I get to the stars one small step at a time; doing a small thing towards a big aim is so much better than doing nothing at all.
So progress in small steps is the order of the day, and thankfulness that I usually manage to do – most of – what I plan to do. Which sounds far more sustainable than a bunch of promises to myself that I know, almost even before I make them, I will feel guilty about.
There is no substitute for the small determination that takes us an inch forward at a time.
Thanks for reading, and Happy New Year 2019. May all our dreams come true.
Please share: