It’s a mad world out there, and maybe New Year’s resolutions are better framed as intentions

It’s a strange time for New Year’s resolutions.

My read is that, culturally, there’s an overall feeling of disempowerment after several consecutive years of upheaval. There has been so much loss and grief — loss of life, quality of life, canceled plans (and recently, flights), and disappointments. This doesn’t even get at the “grind” of what work feels like during a pandemic and the subsequent collective burnout, or what it means to be a parent — or a child right now.

There is an understandable lack of enthusiasm for resolve in the face of so much uncertainty and on the heels of too many letdowns.

Overall, what I read about resolutions comes down to a collective exhale, like we’re all sighing at the same time about the idea of yet another new year. Coupled with this is a desire to set our hopes on something resembling security and grace, versus change and commitment.

I find myself like a dog turning around in its bed, trying to figure out where I’d like to settle in.

On the one hand, I fully understand the overall cultural sentiment away from resolve and more toward something like intention setting for a coming year. I share this.

But I’m also a New Year’s resolution devotee.

Artificial though the changing of the calendar year is, we agree on it. Sure, time is a construct, etc. — but it provides scaffolding for so much of our lives and how we approach and navigate the world, individually and collectively. The idea of a “new year” and a fresh start is alluring. There’s nothing particularly unique about the moment itself as it happens, except the meaning we give it.

And I do. Every year.

[12 ways to feel better in 2023, one month at a time]

One of my favorite activities at the end of the year is focused self-reflection. It will surprise no one to learn that I have a Google Doc with prompts that I copy from the year before, reviewing as I go, before deleting my previous responses in a new document to start fresh.

The prompts include: “What was great about this year?” “What was not-so-awesome about this year?” “Looking at the highlights of my past year … What themes emerge? What is it about these themes that are really important to me?” “What goals or habits can I set to create more highlights for next year?” and more.

Throughout mid to late December, I start stream-of-consciousness responding to these prompts. I’ll remember more as the month goes on, and sometimes into early January. I open it as many times as I want to refine it. Recently, for instance, I realized I forgot to list the whole “we sold our house” as part of the major events of 2022 — it’s always interesting what rises to the top and what doesn’t.

This year, like so many other years, I’m building on previous years’ wins and lessons learned. Where I’m settling is a happy medium between intentions — ways I want to experience my life, the world, and be with others, vs. fixed outcomes/plans — and goal setting. I’m leaving the latter a little bit open to interpretation, not locking myself in on any one thing quite yet so I can see how the year shakes out.

I think this is my nod to and experience of where I’m noticing we are overall as a culture in our approach to 2023 resolutions. I’ve backed off the gas when it comes to my usual level of resolve, in favor of picking activities, pursuits, or perspectives that help me better and more fully inhabit my life, whatever shape it’s taking.

My word for the coming year is “ease.” I don’t expect my life to be easy — far from it, actually — but I think I can inhabit it in ways that are easier and more fluid. I’ve been trying to more fully internalize the serenity prayer, particularly in recognizing that which I can’t change. Accepting that will help me go with the flow, even when and especially as life throws its inevitable curveballs.

When it comes to being outside, that’s the bedrock for my happiness and presence for the rest of my life. I don’t need to have too much resolve there.

That said, this year I want to continue outdoor resolutions and intentions from previous years. I share them here in the spirit of openness but also as ideas for anyone else who, like me, is still getting settled in their approach and resolve for 2023.

Intentions for 2023:

• Be present in the many outdoor spaces and moments I’m lucky to witness, using all of my senses. Don’t fast forward ahead, ruminate, or come up with the Instagram caption for the moment. Do notice what it looks, feels, smells, and sounds like.

• Try new things. Say yes as opportunities arise, even though change makes me tired (it’s true — but I know in the long run change energizes me by making me feel empowered).

• Find opportunities to play. I don’t have to go for a run for it to count as exercise. Chase my friends’ kids around the yard or push them on the swing. Find a trampoline or go to the trampoline park. Splash around in a pool. Go sledding.

• Socialize outside. Swap out meeting for beers for a walk. Have walking phone meetings where possible. Plan hikes; do picnics.

• Walk. Just get in simple movement, every day. I don’t need to pull on or peel off layers to go and walk around.

• Be creative, outside. Write. Paint. Create a scavenger hunt and do it. Whatever it looks like — use landscapes as a launch pad to create for creating’s sake and to (see above) have fun.

We live in difficult times that are changing very quickly — too quickly, it often feels, to make solid plans. But within this, I believe it’s still possible to chart change. It just looks different this year than it may have before, with a new level of adaptability needed in pursuing a resolution.

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