So, it’s 2024. Do you have a Holiday Hangover^TM? Did your 2024 resolve become reluctance when your alarm buzzed this morning? Don’t be discouraged. Time is a construct. You can actually start anew anytime. The date on the calendar is irrelevant, actually meaningless, unless you’re complying with America’s outmoded tax filing laws or you’re a child counting the days to your birthday – “Mom, mom. You told that lady that I’m 7. I’m not. I’m 7 and a half.” 

Is there a point to all this? Not really. True change can and does occur without resolutions and calendar pages. It took leaving the corporate world for me to be kinder, to be present, to know the people around me. I hope that, when I near the end of my days, my thoughts will be on the smiles I created and not the times that I failed. As the darkness closes in on me, I’d like to know that I helped someone, not that I won something. When I am gone, I’d like for people to remember my love for them, not my fumbling mis-steps, of which there have been many. 

All those self-improvement social media posts and books that challenge us to have “no regrets” don’t really mean that. They’re actually telling us not to lament where we focus our time, energy, and attention. Everyone regrets careless words, poorly worded jokes, unkind actions. No doubt it is the worst use of energy when, instead, we could set the intention to learn from our unkindnesses and then, ACTUALLY change our behaviors. Nonetheless, behaving better in future is not self-forgiveness for past actions. 

When my husband was receiving chemotherapy, his skin deteriorated – yes, this story has a related point and I recognize what a surprise that is. The chemo was very drying. He was supposed to moisturize heavily … and we had to be careful what kinds he used since some contain ingredients that are very hard on chemo skin. He refused to use any moisturizer – and I’m talking hardcore, back-to-the-wall noping. His skin – particularly his feet – began to peel and crack. I searched for different versions of body lotion, thinking he didn’t like the texture or the unscented scent of the various brands I bought. He continued to resist. We became Virgil Earp and Frank McLaury. 

I’d had many conversations with his oncology social worker about where to draw the line, where to encourage him instead of doing on his behalf but I’ll never know if the lines I drew were in the right places. None of my choices would have changed the outcome but could my actions have made his days more peaceful? Perhaps, on the other hand, if I’d done more for him, he would have done progressively less. Thus, my deep and abiding relationship with regret and forgiveness.

With the closing of 2023, I found myself listening to a lot of introspective music, perhaps coming to grips with some of my more questionable life choices? Some of the songs continue to resonate as the new year begins:

“Playing God,” by Polyphia. The band was started in 2010, when Tim Henson was only 17. At that age, I was learning to drive, working at McDonalds, and wondering whether I’d ever tell my high school crush how I felt. Tim was taking garage band to the next level. He plays an acoustic-electric guitar created specifically for him. His virtuosic acoustic performance of “Playing God” is astounding, though you should also listen to the full band performance. 

“Little Life” by Cordelia. It’s a new song, all the rage on social media. The lyrics are a bittersweet acknowledgement of our own failings, of falling and standing again. There’s an earnestness to it that I keep having to acknowledge as my life choices slap me over and over again. No matter what happens, I think I like this Little Life.

“The Mountain Song” by TopHouse. This song is a bit of a departure for me, a bluegrass-y sound with Irish influences. I don’t know where I first heard it but the mountain metaphor for the struggle and beauty of connectedness is particularly lovely to me. My days are often surreal in ways that aren’t really explicable except when compared to the concept of climbing and falling and starting up the mountain again. 

Much love.