We're five days into the New Year and despite my best effort to lay down some sort of plan for life-improvement, I've got nothing. Last year, I rebelled and skipped resolutions altogether, having been disillusioned by years of resolution rump-kicking. I enjoyed last year. I didn't accomplish much, but I didn't feel guilty either.
This year I feel the need for more structure as I start out, but I'm not ready to return to resolutions just yet. I'm thinking . . . a list of projects . . . or priorities . . . goals . . . habits . . . Some women choose a word for the year, but how do you quantify that?
Honestly, I'm just overwhelmed by the amount of things I need to work on in my life. I feel much like Philippa, the protagonist in the novel I'm reading, who leaves her high-profile career to join a convent. After arriving there, she remarks, "But then I'm still new, as religious life goes . . . new, but with the dragging disadvantage of old habits." Okay, so I'm not exactly new to this, but I do have old habits that are quite a drag--habits like never, ever sticking with resolutions. Never.
Still thinking . . .
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