My Favorite Resolution

“Every day we should hear at least one little song, read one good poem, see one exquisite picture, and, if possible, speak a few sensible words.”
—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Yesterday was the final day of 2024 and like many people, I spent much of my day reflecting on the past year and also looking ahead to 2025. Of course, this got me thinking about New Year’s resolutions…

What I’ve noticed is that people either embrace them fully or dismiss them summarily. And, really, even the people who embrace them, sometimes have a change of heart around the second week of February when they can’t quite live up to their resolutions and end up feeling like they failed. Which really shouldn’t be that surprising, given the resolutions people choose. As evidenced by the overflow crowds at every gym in America throughout January, these resolutions are usually rooted in external goals which are at odds with their day-to-day habits. Many people start out strong, but when their initial zeal— for working out or eating healthier or practicing better spending habits—fades, more often than not, they just go back to doing things how they always did them. Their belief in the power of resolutions dies a little, alongside their ambitious intentions.

Lord knows I’ve experienced this, especially when the resolutions have to do with not doing something. Be it sweets, or wine or binge-watching Netflix, it turns out that I am spectacularly bad at intentionally giving up something I enjoy. Why? Who really knows, but it is probably tied to some deep seated belief that I should always have my heart’s desire (shouldn’t we all?!) and when I deprive myself of that—whatever it is—I tend to crave it doubly.

The other kind of resolutions that are tough to stick with, I think, are those big vague sweeping intentions like traveling more or spending more time outdoors or being more mindful. The truth about these types of intentions is that if you’re not already doing these things, it’s really hard to just start them up without some smaller incremental steps or some cataclysmic life change. People intend to travel more, or get outside more often or meditate regularly, but they don’t often succeed because, well, it takes more than intention to change who you are. Although I have more than my share of bad habits, I am happy to say that I do not require a New Year’s resolution to do any of these specific things, which frees me up to consider other types of resolutions.

What I’ve learned in the past few years is that the perfect New Year’s resolution for me lives in a kind of sweet spot in my head. As I mentioned, it can’t be about giving something up, like dessert or martinis, or trying to become someone I’m not—read financial genius—or even doing something that I haven’t been inclined to do thus far, like gardening or playing the guitar. Instead, it has to be a subtle, nuanced shift in my everyday life that builds on something that is already in me and pulls me toward it, making a little better version of myself possible. I am happy to say that last year’s resolutions did just that, and as I reflect on them now, I realize that embracing these resolutions with intention—and sticking with them for the whole year—felt like a life-affirming W for me in ways that I didn’t anticipate. For that reason, I guess, I want to share and celebrate them here.

On the last day of 2023, I articulated two specific intentions to myself: 1. To read one novel per month solely for pleasure and; 2. To abandon my morning news habit and instead, begin each and every day reading poetry. Despite my earlier claim that my resolutions were successful, I did not reach my goal to read one novel per month. (Maybe there is another lesson for me here?) I did, however, read nine very compelling novels in 2024 and even though I didn’t hit my target number, I do feel that I regained something lost when I remembered that incredible feeling of being thoroughly immersed in a good book. Looking at the tall stack of new novels on my desk at this very moment, I feel confident that I won’t forget that feeling any time soon.

My second resolution—my favorite—involved a very small and seemingly insignificant change in my day, but honestly, it has produced a colossal change in my life. Each weekday morning, I purposely forego the news and instead, curl up with my coffee on the couch or at my desk and read some poetry. At first, I was intentional about reading Mary Oliver’s wonderful collection, Devotions, which I would simply open to any page and start reading. I think there are many people who do this very thing and whatever editor decided to name her collection Devotions understood deeply the prayer-like quality of her thinking and of her words. Take this poem, for example.

Today, Mary Oliver

Today I’m flying low and I’m
not saying a word
I’m letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.

The world goes on as it must,
the bees in the garden rumbling a little,
the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.
And so forth.

But I’m taking the day off.
Quiet as a feather.
I hardly move though really I’m traveling
a terrific distance.

Stillness. One of the doors
into the temple.

It’s such a powerful little poem and speaks to me on many levels. First, I am moved by the simple elegance of her words and I find her imagery to be so vivid and familiar to me that it ignites a little spark of joy in my heart. Next, it makes me think of the beautiful places I’ve been and invites me not only to consider her poignant insights, but also to consider the ways that language can shape and preserve our experiences in nature. For me, poetry has always been a passageway to my inner workings and with this new daily habit, I honestly feel like I’m feeding my soul just what it needs to start the day. I know this sounds like lofty English teacher stuff, but if you are even a little curious how reading poetry might nourish your own soul, I highly recommend starting with Mary Oliver.

As the months went on last year, I also revisited the work of other favorite poets, again sitting on my couch with my coffee and scrolling on my phone. I signed up for a poem-a-day email, which introduced me to many new and contemporary writers. Sometimes, I would seek out their social media and begin to follow them and it was in these spaces that I was exposed to even more poetry and not just any poetry, but the kind of poetry that I love. I began to sign up for newsletters I had never heard of and subscribe to new blogs. It was a cool and unexpected thing to realize that I had impacted my own algorithms in a way that actually served me up just what I was looking for. And, in another positive twist, some of the new writers I have been following, have started following me back, and some I have even begun to have a personal correspondence with.

Yesterday, as I was doing my morning reading, I came across an Instagram account I didn’t follow, but had been served to me for all the reasons I mentioned in the previous paragraph. It was a perfect post for New Year’s Eve and was actually so perfect that it gave me the inspiration for this post. The account is called @fossilisedflowers and I love that when I went to look at the homepage, a number of writers I revere—and friends I love—were already there. The post, which I have read and re-read multiple times said simply “words to carry into the new year.” There were 20 slides in all, 18 of them with a quote by a well-known writer, many of whom are poets, all of which I could have included in this post. I will choose to leave you with this one, just because it seems like the perfect prompt for the first day of a new year:

”Pursue the things you love doing, and then do them so well that people can’t take their eyes off you. Seek patience and passion in equal amounts. Patience alone will not build the temple. Passion alone will destroy its walls. To live a life of meaning is to balance the things that spark joy with the discipline to bring them into the world.”
—Maya Angelou, from Letter to My Daughter

Happy New Year, friends!
Wishing you a year of patience and passion—and all the things that spark your joy.