Commit to Yourself, Not to the Calendar
I never subscribed to New Year’s Resolutions. To me, they seemed trite, tired, weak. If I want to do something, I just do it. An over-caffeinated news anchor turning a literal calendar to illustrate a figurative change doesn’t encourage me to hit the gym, to take a cooking class, or to experiment with origami.
So I can’t explain why, after 41 years, I chose to commit to a New Year’s Resolution on January 2nd, 2018. In my defense, there was no formal proclamation or motivational tweet.
I just decided to write every day. Then I did.
(Disclaimer: I did not write the day after the Eagles first-ever Super Bowl victory, and I took a much needed week-long break between Christmas and New Year’s Day. I suppose I’m at least a little phony. My apologies.)
As I reflect on the year since, two things are clear. First, traditional resolutions have a finite end: the following year. In this way, mine is more an intention than a resolution because I’m not going to stop. More importantly, I’m now a published author, a reality that only existed in a parallel universe before I committed to my intention.
Whether I decided to write every day on January 1st or August 1st, the confluence of events that took place as a result would likely still have taken place. I would have met the same amazing people, I would have started a blog and written a book, I would have presented at conferences, and I would have written this post. What matters is that I committed to writing. I committed to myself.
There is something very special happening in education right now. A growing contingent of folks who have pledged their own resolutions are lifting each other up, retweeting each other, writing and presenting together, and committing to growth and connection as a result of each other.
If you haven’t already, challenge yourself to your own resolution, intention, or promise. Disregard the calendar, mute the doubter in your head, allow yourself to fail forward, and create an anniversary in honor of yourself.