A
new year, a new beginning, a fresh start, a resolve that things are going to be
better. How many times do we make new year resolutions, only to see them
evaporate by – well, January 2? We mean well, of course, and this year is
really, really going to be different –
until reality sets in and we lapse into our usual way of being, for we are
human, with all our misfires and lapsed good intentions.
For
years I have had but one new year resolution.
It is to ‘Do It Now’. For an Olympic class, nay world champion,
procrastinator such as me, this is a big ask and it is therefore a resolution
doomed to failure. This year, rather
than set myself up for the customary disappointment in myself, I resolved to
make no resolutions whatsoever. Will my year be worse because of this wilful
refusal to join the resolution game? I don’t think so. It will pan out just as
it would have done anyway.
I
suppose I have a pretty jaundiced view of the concept of ‘good’ years and ‘bad’
years and the hope that ‘next year’ will be different. Some people seem to designate whole years in
this fashion, based on a single good or bad experience that assumes an overweaning
importance over all others. In truth, life is a continuum of events, feelings
and experiences, extremes of enjoyment and misery and every nuance in between.
If there’s one thing I have learned, it is that nothing good lasts for ever -
and nor does anything bad.
So,
here is Psychic Sheilagh’s prediction for 2015 for all of us – more of the
same. Different combinations, maybe, of contentment and unhappiness, highs and
lows; much to enjoy as well as, inevitably, some regrets; plenty of humdrum
routine, leavened by an ace party here, a child’s hug there, a good footie
result, a great book; relationships will break up and make up; and change can
be made at any time, not just at the turn of the year. Enjoy it all, accept it
for what it is – life.
Here’s
an untitled poem I found, by Ellen Wheeler Wilcox, on the new year:
What can be said in New Year rhymes,
That's not been said a thousand times?
The new years come, the old years go,
We know we dream, we dream we know.
We rise up laughing with the light,
We lie down weeping with the night.
We hug the world until it stings,
We curse it then and sigh for wings.
We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
We wreathe our prides, we sheet our dead.
We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And that's the burden of a year. Thank you for reading, Sheilagh
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