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Great Expectations

© Karen Low

I didn’t make a list this year. Resolutions, could there possibly be a more mind-numbing activity? Certainly, while we’re sitting at our desks creating these magnificent, fantastical promises, we believe we will succeed. We have faith that we are able to become superior individuals. We believe that one-hour of creating persuasive text which outlines our potential virtuosity will guide us and protect us from the Future. To further torment ourselves, we pin the concluded list on the wall next to our desk, or lay it upon the bedside table. We know we need to be reminded, lest we forget how we ought to improve. There is no protection against the Future. A silly and meaningless list will not shield us from our shortcomings. Paper and ink, while re-assuring and lovely to gaze upon, will not itself generate a personal revolution. I challenge you to tear up that list; it will only serve to remind you that you are not someone else. I believe that change exists only in the moment. Deep down we know who we are, who we want to be, we just need to lift the veil and live our lives– moment to moment.

I recently stumbled upon my tattered list from last year. Depressing as hell. I didn’t lose the weight I just knew I would, I did not become a more patient and serene woman and I do not, and never have done fifty sit-ups everyday. Oh, and my novel? Well, let’s just say it’s on hold. So I failed the list. What does that say about me as an individual? Am I bound to a life of disappointment? Am I no longer worthy of creating new lists of lofty goals? Does it somehow demonstrate my weakness, my lack of spirit, energy and resolve? No. It means I must look in the mirror and listen to my own voice, my silent voice.

After failing to exercise daily, as intended, I became depressed and irritable. I ate chocolate for comfort and stayed in the house for days. I resigned myself to the fact that I could not do it. I passively accepted that exercise was not something this body was capable of doing. I performed my duties as a mother, student, wife and woman attentively; I gave what was needed from me, and existed in a state of relative complacency. On November 1st, while walking outside for the first time in ages, with my daughter singing cheerfully to the coloured leaves, I changed a little bit. Despite the cold weather, sweat formed on my forehead. With each step, I heard my pulse, I felt my feet pound the pavement rhythmically, I was truly alive. I did not expect to feel that way; I simply stumbled upon the moment. It was a fluke, really. But it showed me what I needed to do next. I was not about to return to my life of contentment without the pulse. My mind was overflowing with possibilities, each one attainable within moments. I craved the feeling of movement, of hearing myself breathe, of sensing my heartbeat. I decided to exercise, to treat myself a little better. I did not make a list or take a vow or look into the future. I thought about what I needed to do that day. Since then, I have been more aware of my presence, my self and my body. I do not always live mindfully, and I still get discouraged and let myself down. I now accept these moments for what they are and move on. After all, all we can do is try again, and learn from ourselves.

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