Through The Looking Glass: One Little Word.

New Year's Resolutions: Blech. So big and unmanageable and brimming with pressure-filled expectation. The thought of them makes me want to crawl back into bed. And so--in my annual tradition--instead of resolving to DO anything, I'll pick a word to live by, a few syllables to guide my way as each day unfolds into the next.

Surrender.

In 2019, I’ll continue to live my truth, trusting that the outcome of my actions will be exactly as intended. Day by day, I’ll remember I have no control over what’s going on in that head of yours, or how you react to my sometimes crazy spinning through this world.

Through surrender, I won’t give up, but I’ll relax. I’ll get the opportunity, time and time again, to practice how to be still and wait for something bigger than me—that intuitive thought or word-- to nudge me right, push me left, or scream at me to stay right where I am. I’ll get the gift of knowing I’m right on track, wrapped up in a big red bow. In surrender, I’ll better understand that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, too. How cool is that?

In surrender, I can let go of old ideas about who I’m supposed to be, and embrace who I am. I can put my shortcomings under the microscope—my impatience, my judgements of you, my occasional inability to appreciate what is—and recognize these as opportunities to bloom, grow, learn.

In 2019, I’ll do my best footwork—in my job, in my relationships, in my spiritual journey—and accept the results as they are, knowing there’ll be times I won’t agree with what I think the results should be (usually when I’m not getting my way, sigh). With surrender, I can accept change and loss and (more) change for what they are: inevitable. I can hear your opinions without having to like them, trusting that our worlds have collided for a reason I don’t understand yet. In surrender, I experience freedom: Freedom from thinking I need to have it all figured out; Freedom from trying to control all of the details; freedom from worry. And in turn, I get the gift of courage to keep being who I am, knowing that the chips will fall just where they’re supposed to. Happy New Year.