Jan. 02--It's not that I break my New Year's resolutions; it's more like they cancel each other out.
In a typical year, I'll make two vows: Be more present and finally tackle my clutter. Except the times when I should be tackling my clutter are the times when I could practice being more present. If I do one, I'm not doing the other. So the clutter remains, which contributes to my distraction. (You see how this goes.)
This year I decided to write a mission statement. It's less about what I should tackle and more about the shape I want my life to take. Maybe you have something similar.
Here goes:
I'll focus on what I know to be true.
We spend so much time debating what's real, from the frivolous (Kim Kardashian's assets) to the critical (climate change). We ended 2014 feeling duped by Rolling Stone magazine over the University of Virginia rape story, and lied to by New York magazine for its false report about a $72 million teen. We watched woman after woman step bravely forward to allege sexual assault by comedian Bill Cosby, even as doubting pundits, a jaded public and Cosby's own wife debated their credibility.
I add to the noise with tales in my own head about my children and what lies in wait. I live in fear -- the same fear most parents live in, the same fear too many parents have watched materialize -- of a school shooting, disease, drug addiction, hearts too broken to heal.
I parent with an eye toward a future I can't possibly know, even as I try to stay engaged in a present that's plenty distracted.
They're all important dialogues -- internal and external -- with the truth buried somewhere within. But they can pull you away from the truth right in front of you.
My son's hand patting my arm while I read him "Snowmen at Night" is true. So is my daughter's radiant joy when she sticks a back handspring. Their fierce and unconditional love for one another is one of the truest things I've known.
Those things are real. And they're enough. They're enough to hold my attention and capture my imagination and keep me rooted in the right now. The what-ifs will inevitably creep in (particularly at 3 a.m.), but I will do my best to keep them from seizing the moments that are too genuine and too fleeting to give over to the worst kind of wonder.
I won't be a cynic. I won't profess to have humans -- at large or individually -- figured out. I won't imagine the worst about people's motives and hearts. I'll try to assume goodness.
Because cynical is a gloomy way to go through life, and a joyless way to raise children. It saps your inquisitiveness and leaves no room for marvel. Kids are so good at inquisitiveness and marvel. I'll do my best to foster both -- in their minds and my own.
I'll seek out voices that don't sound like my own. Stories I can't relate to and opinions I don't already hold and art I don't understand. I'll watch and listen and learn, and I'll ask my kids to do the same.
I'll practice this quote (credited to different authors), which I stumbled upon on Twitter: "Never let a problem to be solved become more important than a person to be loved."
I'll tackle my clutter, but only after I've read more books and called more friends and gotten more exercise and played more games of Spoons with my family.
I'll forgive myself when I lose my way and forget everything I just wrote. Then I'll get back on track.
I'll wish people a happy New Year and I'll mean it. Starting with all of you.
Happy New Year.
Do you have a 2015 mission statement to share? Email it to hstevens@tribpub.com.
Twitter @heidistevens13
