I do not want what I haven’t got

I rarely make resolutions at the turn of a New Year. Everyone else is doing it for starters, and I’ve always been a bit anxious in crowds. But it’s not just an aversion to running with the pack. I like to take January off – both physically and mentally. January is a time for kicking back on the surface of the sea and feeling the sun on your face, both literally and metaphorically.  It’s a time for daydreaming, not planning and scheming.

While January is the start of the year, it’s also the beginning of the end of a birth year for me.  March takes a step into another year older, and if the universe is good, then a step towards being a little wiser. I like to make my resolutions – or set my intentions – at the beginning of another birth year. Am I living a life I’m proud of, and if not what do I need to do to change it? What behaviours and beliefs have not served me and are best left behind? What do I want to make more time for,what do I want less of, and what do I think will feed my soul.

I’ve talked here – albeit briefly – about my regard for the word courage, and how deeply the word resonates. It’s a word I strive to embody every single day. Most days I fail, but that’s the beauty of a new day – you get to try again. So while courage was the word that defined 2012, and will continue to define me, I think I want 2013 to be about commitment. And by that I mean keeping my commitments, something I’ve not been good at in the past. Keeping my commitments to other people, but most importantly, keeping my commitment to myself. Because I break the promises I make to myself each and every day.

One of those commitments, is a commitment to writing, and writing every day. It doesn’t have to be good, it probably won’t be. Some of it will be done here, and some of it will be done elsewhere, but I intend to commit myself to writing every day. Starting today.

Happy first of March, Happy first day of autumn. Happy St David’s Day, and if you are turning 28 for the umpteenth time, like I am, then Happy Birthday to you. I leave you with the most lovely image, a photograph taken by Abby Powell Thompson, and the first thing I ever favourited on Etsy, but foolishly did not buy. It’s a little eavesdrop on the most delightful conversation ever to take place on a vintage quilt, on a summer lawn.

I do not want what I haven't got