Good morning and good day, 2013.
You're looking dapper, if I dare say so.
I'm not trying to be overly chipper or annoyingly life-coach-ish (I totally made that up), but, like most, on most years during this bone-chilling month we refer to as January, I will use this new start, this new year, to reflect and to attempt to grow from both the positive and the negative that occurred in 2012.
I like to do my very best in being frank with myself--I'm not delusional or one of those that continuously sets unrealistic goals all in the name of "New Year's resolutions." But, I like the general idea of choosing to be pro-active and grow- personally, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and physically (although, not a fan of growing outward, physically, mind you).
So, I'm just choosing to be proactive.
To stop wasting so much time.
To stop wasting energy, feelings, thoughts.
I am choosing to be a bit pickier how I spend my time and spend it well and joyously.
Cue my--albeit corny--JOY JAR.
I filled a mason jar with specific memories as well as general people, places, and things that fill me with laughter, peace, and anything wholly positive. Elizabeth Gilbert, Read more on why she's that kind of girl here, author best known (although she's written countless incredibly well-written others)for her massive best-seller and the film adaptation that followed, "Eat, Pray, Love," shared a similar idea on her website. I think that she's pretty phenomenal. I can relate, I suppose, and who couldn't after her heart-wrenching memoir about finding one's self?
So, I thought, despite its girl-ish sentimentality, her small jar of happiness was a lovely idea. And one that I'd try out. See: Inexpensive, Motivational, and Proactive, people. Sure. Why not?
A jar holds things.
It holds things up.
Mine, holds many of my own joys and triumphs.
Believe me, I don't just begin feeling blue, and then suddenly! Gasp! Remember this perfect JOY JAR! But, some times, it's reassuring--albeit, yes, corny--to saunter over to my windowsill and pick out one of the two hundred little slips of paper that contains some tiny handwritten semblance of something, anything that forces just a sliver of a smile to appear.
You can choose to get creative with yours, if you so choose. Whatever it is that comforts or excites you- drop it in. This is one of the many habits--small, of course--that I am trying to instill in myself when self-doubt, numbness, or melancholy strikes, even if for simply a brief moment.
That's a resolution, folks.
To try and to succeed.
That step to the windowsill is my resolution.
To take a step. That's it.