“The ancient Babylonians are said to have been the first people to make New Year’s resolutions, some 4,000 years ago. They were also the first to hold recorded celebrations in honor of the new year—though for them the year began not in January but in mid-March, when the crops were planted. During a massive 12-day religious festival known as Akitu, the Babylonians crowned a new king or reaffirmed their loyalty to the reigning king. They also made promises to the gods to pay their debts and return any objects they had borrowed. These promises could be considered the forerunners of our New Year’s resolutions. If the Babylonians kept to their word, their (pagan) gods would bestow favor on them for the coming year. If not, they would fall out of the gods’ favor—a place no one wanted to be.”
Nearly every communication I have had in the last few weeks has gone something like this: Hey. How are you? Staying healthy LOL? How were the holidays? What are your plans for New Years?
First, I have to tamp down the big ol’ bitch in my heart and refrain from writing back: Hey. I’m fine. The end of the year kind of blows, to be honest. I worked. I mean, I did some stuff. I guess. Also, no, who the fuck is healthy right now? Also, it’s New Year’s Eve. Otherwise, we’d be talking about my five-year plan, and I’m having trouble forward thinking about anything other than this evening.
I know. Perhaps I’ve already ruined it for you. Who responds to good will and cheer and a standard check-in with such creepy coldness? Well, not me. It’s just what I’ve been thinking about. That’s the truth and we know that’s my game. Brutal honesty. I keep that to myself though, as I’d like to continue speaking to other humans.
I usually respond in a way that I think of as polite and borderline engaging and then maybe, I add a sprinkle of bullshit. Not harmful and malicious crap, but enough nonsense to keep the conversation light and brief. Most of the time, even when someone doesn’t really care, if you start to spew, you will get a much longer interaction than maybe you intended or desire. You will end up needing to explain and expand and maybe make excuses. So, I keep it cotton candy. Things are fine, everything is fine, New Year’s Eve is quiet and that’s perfectly fine. Also, I was sick and now, I’m on the mend, which is fine, fine, fine.
Things are okay. That is the truth. I am mostly grateful. I am. I treasure my family (though I haven’t seen much of them as of late- thank you, winter germs) and my friends and all the things that bring a person joy. You know- like an able body, regular employment, hobbies, new lipstick, et cetera. I also, like many, entertain the ‘what the fuck did I do this year?’ inner dialogue. I find myself wondering where the year went and thinking about what I may want for next year.
I don’t spend a lot of time making resolutions (we’ve discussed this historically) or manifesting, as I’m not a big believer in either, but I do think big picture. I try and be at least mildly thoughtful about the process. Where do I want to visit? What do I want to write about? Who do I want to see? Who do I want to avoid?
You know what I don’t ever think about? What I want to look like or how many dates I want to go on or anything of that nature. I don’t spend a lot of time trying to squeeze myself into the norms of year-end self-deprecation and pressure. This is not because I think I’m perfect or removed from such things. Not at all. This is more because the idea of setting myself up in that way just as the year is kicking off feels self-defeating and exhausting. The world is wide and there is too much to consider in the ‘what next’ category.
I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. Let’s go back to the folks that purportedly started it all, the Babylonians. First of all, amen to doing the whole celebration thing in March. I mean, sure, the weather can be wonky, but it’s lighter out for longer, and there’s something to be said for that. Staying up until midnight to welcome the next bit feels more tiresome when it’s dark at 4ish pm. Also, March brings growth (or rebirth) outside, and even in my grumpiest and most despondent moments, I’ve found magic in those little kelly green sprigs. I mean, it’s evidence of new life after all. Whatever. This is all moot because we ring in the new year at the end of December and to change that would mean a lot of change and while I’m all for change, I can understand why folks would be resistant. We can’t seem to get rid of useless and annoying Daylight Savings, so the chances of this change are slim to never.
So, let’s put aside that bit of wisdom. Also, the king part. I think we have enough narcissistic assholes trying to climb up the power ladder these days. I feel confident they’ll continue their horrifying reigns of terror without any public praise or kowtowing or unnecessary celebration.
Twelve days? That feels better. I have zero interest in a twelve-day party, but it sure is nice to imagine a situation whereas if you fuck up one celebration or it all goes to hell, you have eleven other days to pull the nose up. Plus, this is a great excuse for taking it easy without getting any flak. Oh yeah, I’d love to have another cocktail, but I have another week to get through- so I have to pace myself.
Okay, that’s admittedly pretty silly too. I can barely stomach a five-hour party, so twelve days is my literal worst nightmare.
What about the paying debts and returning borrowed objects part? What if we modernized and made relevant that sentiment? What if our so-called resolutions were about making ourselves whole and displays of appreciation and nourishing feelings of stability? Instead of saying we want to run a seven-minute mile or lift fifty pounds or lose twenty, what if we decided that we want health and mobility in whatever fashion the universe deems appropriate? Instead of saying we want to meet our future spouse or finally get divorced or shed a tough friendship, what if we decided to cultivate relationships that showcase the best versions of ourselves? Instead of wanting to make a certain amount of money or achieving a very particular position, what if we decided to ask the universe for a professional life that serves and rewards us at the highest possible level?
I know that this sounds like a big bunch of bs. I get it. I may as well craft a self-help poster with a beach scene. I get it. I do. But honestly, it’s how I feel right in this moment. I want to take good care of this body because it’s the only one I have. I don’t want to compare it to others, because this one is uniquely mine and its capabilities are slowly unfolding as I age- and I want to embrace that evolution instead of condemning myself or comparing. I want to put energy into friendships and relationships that bring me joy and challenge me and leave behind those that cause my grief. I want to find the best place I can professionally- balance and appreciation and maybe, more “extras” that make it all worth it. I don’t have a specific vision other than balance. I want status quo. And if status quo doesn’t deserve a twelve-day celebration, what the hell does? Right?
Happy New Year to each and every one of you. May you 2022 end peacefully and your 2023 kick off exactly as you would wish it to.
x
L.
thepathtoworthy.com 