Promise #84: Strain for less, not more

For all the joy a new year brings, there’s an undue amount of stress, too. That’s because we’re all so tangled up with the pressure and hoopla to make a resolution.

Imagine if we shifted the entire discussion to December 31, 2012? There would be a lot less chatter and it would be much more meaningful. The resolutions that didn’t stick wouldn’t matter. The resolutions that did stick would.

Our shared experiences about the real transformation a resolution makes (after all, that’s the intention) might be slightly more inspiring than a discussion about the transformation we hope it will make. Not that there’s anything wrong about a discussion regarding hope.

Last year I ranted about this, too, when I shared my resolution. Interestingly enough the resolution to just “trust myself” was one that stuck with me all year long. It whispered in my ear when I was ready to farm out a work project or two; it slapped me upside the head when my inner critic questioned my ability to get naked; it reminded me again and again to not be afraid to just see what might happen if I ________________.

I learned that this whole resolution wanderlust is deeply personal. It’s not about joining a gym or getting a new job or landing a deal. It is about finding the power within to produce the change you need, desire, crave or dream.

It’s about being patient and kind to yourself. It’s about making a pinky promise with your soul.

So whether you already staked your claim, or you already walked away from your stake, consider this:

why not spend the year straining for less

so you can get to the heart of your matter

and make it matter even more?

Promise #83: Pay homage to your angel

There comes a point in time when everything must land on a piece of barbed wire.

Me. You. Even a snowflake that’s fallen from the sky.

So don’t waste your time pondering the why or wondering the what if.

Spend it making snowmen and throwing snowballs.

Lay down on the freezing cold earth

and pay homage to your guardian angel—

outline her blessed figure in the snow.

After all, she’s the one who empowers you

to pull every barb from your being

before you melt

back

into

the

 sky.

Promise #82: See your forest for the trees

There is an entire place dedicated to enhancing clarity and understanding, peace and patience, kindness and gratitude.

Believe it or not, there’s no long line at the entry. There’s no need to make a reservation. There’s no admission fee. There’s nothing for sale. You can stay as long as you like. You can bring friends or go alone. You’re free to sit and think. You’re free to walk around, to run, to play. You can even just lay down and take a nap. You’re welcome every day, any time.

The air is fresh. The ground is solid. The atmosphere, embracing. It’s alarmingly quiet and quietly alarming.

And the best news is—it’s on the other side of your front door. Go on, open that door. Take a deep breath. Clear your head. Stand on top of the world.

Own. Your. Day.

Promise #81: Occupy Your Own Peace on Earth

I walked past a wall of Christmas wreaths—at least six feet long and seven feet high—on my way into the grocery store. It’s not the first wall of wreaths I’ve seen, and it won’t be the last. Trouble is, it’s only November 22nd. We haven’t even celebrated Thanksgiving yet here in the states.

Why do we allow this madness to continue year after year after year? So a big box retailer can meet a year-end goal? So our house can be decorated before the first of December? What’s the rush? And why do we continue to care?

I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re not marching to our own drum. Can you honestly tell me the people working at Walmart want to deal with crazed Black Friday shoppers at 10 o’clock in the evening ON THE NIGHT BEFORE BLACK FRIDAY? Shouldn’t all those people, workers and shoppers alike, be in a tryptophan coma? Isn’t that coma one of our inalienable human rights?

We spend so much time preparing for this season that we create a world where we can’t be present at all.

What if we refused to buy wreaths before December 1st? What if we didn’t show up for the pre-Black Friday deals? What if we stopped walking around like turkeys? What if we didn’t jump for the carrots? What if we knew, believed, embraced:

“We are unstoppable and another world is possible.”

Would it matter? Would you occupy your own peace on earth?

Promise #80: Give thanks for your naked ass

Awesome artwork by spunkinator

I started a diet a few weeks ago. There was a growing tension between my belly, my belt buckle and my brain.

When I entered my weight stats into the Weight Watcher tracker thingamagiggy, I learned that I’m within my range. Unfortunately, I’m not within my comfort zone. I know how I feel when I’m 10 pounds lighter and I really miss it. So I decided it was time to quit making excuses and work toward feeling better about myself.

Getting to that point is half the battle.

There’s an insane amount of time dedicated to making us all feel not right; to giving us standards and measures and comparisons—none of which are the norm, really. I’m not aiming for a bikini, I’m just aiming for a general state of comfort and joy. This will continue to include a few of my favorite things, namely wine and chocolate. And chocolate and wine.

You can imagine how delighted I was to stumble upon Kimberly Riggins’ new book announcement: Love your naked ass. Kimberly’s website is dedicated to me and my ass (and you and yours) eating chocolate naked. I never really considered the importance of eating chocolate naked, but it really would be the culmination of a moment well lived. Alone, perhaps, but lived nonetheless.

For now, I’m knee-deep in bland salads and measured meats. Not because Weight Watchers is just another boring diet, but because I masterfully craft wine and chocolate into my weekly (okay, daily) point allotment. Sure, it’s going to take me a little bit longer to reach my minus 10 goal, but I’m going to do it with a big, fat smile on my face.

I’m minus four and counting, but Thanksgiving is right around the corner. Thanks to Kimberly, this year, I plan to give thanks for my naked ass.

Gobble. Gobble. Peace.