It is January 1, 2021.
The US government is still not working for the benefit of the people. COVID is not cured. Millions are still starving. Travel is still nominally illegal (at least where we are). Conspiracy theories are alive and well. [Side note: heard a doozy last night. There’s medication for delusion, people.]
Did anyone really think that a different number popping up on our home screens would change things? Of course not. But it doesn’t matter. That big celebration on December 31st is an annual wrap party, no encores requested.
Every January 1st has a sense of magic about it. Remember buying a new wall calendar, carefully choosing which pictures you wanted to see every day? Puppies? Cats doing yoga? Australian firefighters?
That’s where resolutions come in. When we finally end a thing, whether it’s a job or a relationship or a year, it’s natural to post-mortem the failures and disappointments. In the case of a year ending—especially a stink bomb like 2020—we take all those missteps and catastrophes and turn them into vows of never again.
Problem is we don’t have perfect control over anything, including ourselves. So by February 3rd, if we’re lucky, our resolve has dissolved and that “this year I’m gonna ______________” has turned to “I’m such a loser.”
I’ve known for a while that 2020 wouldn’t end with resolutions. 2020 was going to need ritual closure, preferably involving minor destruction.
So last night, rather than curse the year that was and burden the year to come, my household reflected, burned, and planted.
Photo courtesy Starfire Direct. Click for site.
I cut up paper into squares and handed them out. Over linguini, without ceremony, we each reflected upon 2020, recalling the discoveries as well as the pains and writing them down, one per sheet. Each of us had two stacks: the aspects of 2020 we were ready to release through burning, and the aspects of 2020 that we wanted to retain and grow through planting. That meant we didn’t burn COVID, but one of us did burn “COVID’s control over my emotions.”
The middle-schooler in my house had changed schools mid-semester and still had one of the textbooks. Using every muscle fiber in her arms, back, and will, she ripped that hard backing from the sewn pages. As she placed them in the fire, she released the anxiety that had tortured her in the first school.
The other stack of reflections—the aspects of 2020 we wanted to plant and grow—we tore into bits and placed in a bowl of warm water to soften. Last year my strategy for School For Seekers was completely derailed. But because we immediately moved everything online we gained new students and friends who wouldn’t have had access had things gone as planned. That unexpected influence went into the water that will become our garden.
As horrible as 2020’s unique brew of pandemic, politics, climate change, unemployment, and normal pains of life, was to live through, the net gain of resilience will serve all of us.
Want to learn how to nurture daily transformation in your own life?
Starting January 10 I’ll be leading a 4-week anti-resolution workshop called “Go Easy.” The free workshop includes one half-hour personal guidance session. If you want to use 2021 to turn regret into real change without beating yourself up, you can sign up here.