Somehow, to me this New Year feels less delineated than previous ones. January 1st feels more like just a date in the calendar than a new beginning. Thus, my need for New Year’s resolutions is vague, if anything.
Certainly, I could promise myself to write a novel, to finish what I have started, to write more on this blog, to visit more blogs, or rather give a sign that I’ve been there, to read more books, to do this, that and the other, and, of course, all of them more, more, and more, faster, faster, and faster. After all, I did that every January. And every year I did my best to achieve these goals of doing, and if I couldn’t, then I would struggle even more. With each new struggle to do more and do it faster, regardless of its outcome, one thing came for sure. One thing that I’ve come to dread. The overwhelming feeling of Time slipping through my fingers, bringing about the panic of running out of time.
This has to change. Because, you see, this time I’m planning more to be than to do. Just be, here and now, smell the roses or the coffee, even write a line or two when I feel like it, with no pressure. I’m not that sure how this can be done, but I’ll learn.
Less is more, that’s what they say, don’t they?
So, yes, this is my resolution for 2013. Slowness.
watercolor by Amelia Jane Murray, Lady Oswald, 1800-1896