A lot can change in a year. For one, you can decimate plants in spring only to learn how to make them grow extraordinarily by winter. This is the kind of juxtaposition of my most recent year–a step away from one thing leads me to a more enduring accomplishment in another.
A lot can happen in a year. Habits can become modified (omnivorous vs. pescetarian) or changed completely (starting a new job), you can find yourself surrounded by a million people (an engagement ring is a homing device for recommendations) or completely alone (in an empty classroom on your last day of teaching).
A lot can be learned in a year. About politics, about geography, about self-awareness and about people. You can pick up a new skill (rice cooking) or become increasing adept at skill you were thought to have previously mastered (making beds). You can learn that you have a lot to learn (wedding planning, smart phones, checking expiration dates on sour cream…). You can learn to ignore your ego and press that utkatasana for a moment more.
I like the idea of resolutions–of being resolute. But these days I find that less and less in my life is that immutable, that persevering. When I consider just how much occurs over the span of 365 days, I leave myself some levity to make adjustments–to avoid adhering strictly to any unwieldy expectations. It is not unordinary to hope for personal growth and to that effect I would like to write more and to do so more meaningfully. I plan to discover how to make a variety of palatable vegetarian dishes. I will complete a running goal. I hope to be a more adaptable partner. I’ll call my parents often and make sure my grandmas know I love them. I can be accountable for all these things and more, but I want to leave space for the things I can’t yet know that I’ll accomplish. Yes, a lot can happen in a year and I can’t wait to find out what will be.