Sunday, January 1, 2012

Resolutions, or Whatever....

It's that time of year again. When we make silly resolutions, slap our too-full bellies, think about never drinking again, swear we will feed the poor and rescue people by the side of the road, resolve to give up laughing in a way that resembles a stark raving mad whinnying horse, and in general--despise our present selves for some unobtainable future self. It's sort of like being put into hell in the person of a teenager who only sees what they HOPE they will be, and not what they actually ARE.

Why do we do this to ourselves? From whenceforth cometh this self-loathing? For that is what I think it is. I can remember being a young teen and looking at some hairstyles in "Seventeen" magazine and thinking, wistfully and urgently; "Well, if I can just get some ROLLERS, and put them in THAT way, then, damn, I will be beautiful. Or, maybe just prettier." It had a magic about it. Like not stepping on cracks in the sidewalk, throwing salt over your shoulder (boy, does that date me!), or wishing on a star.

I just read an article in today's Sunday "Boston Globe" (this being New Year's day, 2012) about making resolutions, how human it is, how far back in history this goes, and how ultimately self-defeating it is. Apparently, there is something about just the making of a resolution which keeps us from meaningful change. Don't ask me what the "something" is because I didn't finish the article. That's a resolution I mean to make--to finish things I've started. (Like the two pairs of knitted socks for my husband which are sitting in a basket because some stupid LADY who works in a knitting store told me I had been knitting the wrong way for over 40 years. "Surely not 40," I whispered, full of self-loathing.) So those socks are just sitting there while I stare at them, flushed with defeatism and the conviction I will never knit again. I resolve not to make a resolution about finishing things I've started.

So what's an aging broad to do? Sitting in the UCC church today listening to absolutely mind-blowing beautiful Gospel music that made me want to get up and dance (and why didn't I? Let's resolve to dance in church this year, just not the Catholic Church....), I thought--with my heart and not my brain--"I want more music in my life. More liveliness. More dancing." I sat there some more, and when Rev. Andrea Ayvazian talked to us about letting go of our wounds and grief and regrets, I tossed a stone into a big empty metal cauldron listening to it clank with all the other stones, representing the griefs and regrets of others. "I want to let go of guilt," my heart said. "I want to let go of worry." Deep in my heart I felt that rattle of my own stone and the stones of others.

It seems to me, from the vantage point of being newly turned 66 (gasp, wheeze), that this is a good time to let go of things and also invite other things in. That's my take on the resolution business, which I am trying to give up: Simply invite into my life some activities I want more of--music, dancing, friends, and being outside. And let go of things which keep me from living fully--guilt, remorse, fear, and worry. I have been known to worry about our neighbor's dog, for God's sake, that she wasn't getting enough water in her crate. Also known for worrying about: the state of the world, conservative Republicans, climate change, my thighs, my low bank account, my eyes, my grown "kids", the health of my friends, and the lack of birds at my feeder. (Was it something I said? How about I buy you another feeder? Isn't this taking worry to a ridiculous extreme?)

So, without putting any time to this or sense that I have to make things happen now in the New Year, I am just going to do a little slidey dance which incorporates some cooler more lively things, and at the same time, I'm throwing some crap over my shoulder as I dance. Want to join me?