all of the selves we Have ever been
When we enter a new year, we embrace a fresh start.
We resolve to change. We will become healthier, thinner, richer, better organized, better educated, and better read. We will quit smoking and quit complaining. We will be positive, motivated, and successful.
We have high hopes as we wait for the ball to drop and the fireworks to light up the sky. We are high on wishful thinking: the New Year’s Eve sparkle will rub off on our ordinary lives and make us new too. We will enter the salon and the wrinkles will magically disappear. The pounds will melt away as we enter the workout studio. On that fresh first day of the year we convince ourselves that the terrain will be smooth, the trip will be easy. We can do it!
About two weeks into the journey, we realize that our traveling companions are holding us back. We should never have brought our old selves into the shiny new year. We drop the ball. Game over. No celebratory fireworks.
We spend a lot of time and money on packaging. Sexy sells. When it doesn’t, we elevate ourselves by drawing attention to what is wrong with the other guy. After the last few soul-crushing years, I am wiped out. I know others are as well. I have nothing left for whipping up smoothies or for boxing with myself on the latest home workout mirror. It is a 9-1-1 emergency. A mass casualty situation.
And so, in 2022, I resolve to focus less on the vessel and more on the divine spark within—my own and that of others too. This year, I am making only one resolution: Fan the flames!