
It’s January 1, which means we are all inundated with the should, could, may, might, must possibly consider doing *new* this year. I’m all for an annual tabula rasa, but before I get all crazy with an Extreme Makeover 2015 Edition, which rubberbands us right past today and into the excitement of our future this year, I thought I would jot down a few observations on and about this first day of the year. Perhaps it can serve as a bit of a navigational tool for this very early start to a new beginning, assisting those of us who have weathered a few of these in the past with tempering or shifting our expectations of this day…

celebrate. Each year I pick a new theme song that reminds of who I am or what I’m learning about myself or my world. Then, I wear the living daylights out of that song for a whole year: I scrapbook the lyrics, use snippets in conversation, whistle the melody while at the grocery, post gleanings from the song and parallels to my life of Facebook, play the song WAY too loud on repeat while I drive and sing aloud at the top of my lungs. By the end of the year, I am ready for a new song…and trust me, so is everyone else. Find yourself a theme song for the year–and make it your own so that by the end of the year that song isn’t just a theme, it’s a tune intertwined throughout your days in good ways.

and starts singing “I gotta be me! Oh I just gotta be me!” There are days when everything around me–the work, the responsible eating, the scheduled exercise classes, the right thing to say, the matching shoes–looks like penguins, each indistinguishable from the throngs of every other correct and compliant thing we are supposed to do everyday so we can live healthier, longer, happier lives. But for me, sometimes–okay, many times–happiness is a bit of non-compliance. Sometimes a spot of joy comes in sneaking a bite out of my husband’s chicken sandwich before I give it to him, or saying the unexpected thing rather than the uninspired thing, or wearing the crazy cute sandals that are seriously impractical, or buying the furry pink puffball of a stuffed elephant from the kids section of the store that I passed on my way to get new organizers because I just want to squish him and name him Flufferguson and sit him on my very organized desk while I work. Non-compliance can be liberating and joy-inducing–because sometimes during the year we just have to stand up to the monotony of “doing everything right” and break out into our own crazy song.

Love your writing. Keep it coming.