Even if you haven’t been reading this blog for long, you would probably not be surprised to know that I’m a lover of New Year’s Resolutions. Why? I never feel I do fill-in-the-blank enough, as in don’t work hard enough, don’t relax enough, don’t trust enough… I mean, I’m a doer, a striver, a fixer and resolutions so smack of that wonderful phrase to-do, as in to-do list. And you can imagine, I pretty much always have a list going, on paper, in the body of an email, in my head. Okay, so you’ve got that straight. Without ado, here goes my list.

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Mini-ado, actually: my list changes year-to-year. Sometimes, it’s long and filled with specific tasks or goals, such as floss everyday. I had that one on there for a number of years, actually, and finally it really took hold. Other years, though, it’s more of a big picture list, more open-ended. It’s more about process than improving upon specifics.

There’s something really important about that, at least for me, because it’s back to that sense that you can’t really “nail” your life like a gymnast’s best dismount or a skater’s best jump. You are constantly messing up, constantly learning, and constantly realizing that perfection is so not the name of this game called life; it’s so much more about learning to fall and then dusting yourself off and continuing onward. And it’s about being connected—to one’s people, to one’s purpose, to one’s self. Getting “it” right, whatever it might be, somehow takes you from all that messiness and connectivity and the adventures of discovery all those glistening moments in the muck.

Yesterday reminded me of this, almost offhandedly. I spent the day hanging—you might remember how I said this was my wish for the winter vacation stretch—first with a friend and her son at our house, three and nearly-three year-olds working out how to play together, phone ringing, cardboard boxes being broken down and put back together, like that, just hanging—and then onward to two parties, one with many old friends and family and the other with newer friends. At this second party, where young kids and tweens and teens (tween and teen, mine) all hung and sprawled and ate and chatted and did some chasing, there was this lovely mush of youth and these generally sweet and happy kids in the mush. There was something so nectar-like about the moments just before it became obvious that bedtime really did have to happen, New Year’s Day or not, that distilled to me what it is I hold most dear: knowing that I’m living with my heart oh-so-full. The rest? Let it pool around that, like gravy or puddles. Seriously. And of course, I care deeply about the puddles, don’t get me wrong. That’s the tension.

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No surprise then that my list goes like this:

  • Balance. I want to grab onto this idea and believe in it: I can’t do everything—sleep enough, work enough, exercise enough (don’t ask me what enough means, because really what it means is more-than-I-am-able and I’m not willing to parse that or change it exactly), be friend enough—to the extent I wish. Better idea perhaps? Find a balance of sleep, work, family, exercise, time with friends, time with my dear hubby, time for community endeavors and that big ol’ etcetera, and deal with it actually being enough of enough for me, right now with my hands so much more than full.
  • Holding. I am going to try to hold my heart tender and open and yet also hold firm. I have no idea how I can manage this, but there’s a concept I can feel inside my bones that has to do with ongoing struggles, especially with my tweenager, and I know I want the relationship and the tone to be loving, but I also know somehow from that place I am looking to support his being more of a helper, more of a listener. I believe there’s some way to do this without nagging, harping, constantly tussling (pretty please). I am very clear that the tender heart is more important at this moment, even though without some firmness (and even some compassionate detachment from my children’s inevitable growing-up struggles, i.e. the process that is growing up) I cannot really help much.
  • Gentle kindness. Here’s my note on my handwritten list: especially with self. Need I say more?
  • Love and Belief. I’m definitely a half-full kind of a gal. This is simply to remind myself to stay that way. Oh, and to hold out the most hope for all rather than to tumble towards sarcasm as a state of being (find me late at night when I’m tired, plenty of snark, plenty of sarcasm, and I’m sure that won’t disappear). I do believe life feels best when I believe in and love my family, my friends, my community, my planet and all citizens of the world—and myself.
  • House Project. The Great House Reclamation Project that began in earnest way back in August, it continues apace and I’m committed to its ongoing, steady nature. Huzzah.
  • Make Mistakes Joyfully. That’s self-explanatory, yes?

Okay, 2011, I am ready for you.