Starting over
A new year in the middle of summer sounds kind of nice. (State Library of Queensland)
When I was around nine years old, I used to imagine that I was the main character of a movie.
It would have been the most boring movie in the whole world, because I didn’t believe in editing. No, I was trying to get the whole thing in one take.
That is, my whole life. I was trying to live my whole life perfectly.
So whatever I was doing, if I didn’t do it exactly the way I thought I should, I would start over.
That didn’t necessarily mean that I would compulsively start over on a given activity. Rather, I would mentally discard all of the “footage” I had recorded up to that point and begin again — starting right now.
I kept this up for years as a way to amuse myself privately and make life more interesting. Along the way, in learning what made me consider a given moment to be a botched effort, I discovered some of my values. Clumsiness or messy writing would get me to start over, but so would complaining, whining, and feeling resentful or bored. I was figuring out how I wanted to be as a person.
Eventually, life got exciting and complex enough that I was satisfied with the “movie” I was making. I stopped starting over because I didn’t want to dismiss what had come before — it was useful context for whatever came next.
As we approach a new year, I remember the girl who loved to start over. A life is too long to correctly all in one go, and so is a year. I don’t want to do a big reset. I don’t want to have the pressure of a grand plan. I mostly just want to keep doing what I’m doing.
I do love January for being a time when things happen. The post-vacation energy stimulates new opportunities and fresh possibilities.
But that’s January, not the new year. And sooner or later, the new year will become just as sullied as the last one, depending on your perspective. What then?
Might as well create a plan that builds on what is already working. And if nothing is working, you can experiment to find something that does.
What I didn’t understand when I was a kid is that I couldn’t just suddenly say and do all of the right things in order to have my “movie” go just right. If I wanted to be less clumsy, I had to develop my physical skills. If I wanted to be more socially adept, I had to invest in learning how.
Ironically, watching someone grow and change is what makes for a much more engaging film.
The new year isn’t a clean slate. Today is a clean slate. What will we choose in these sixteen waking hours to make tomorrow easier? What will we do today that is in alignment with what we want in the long term?
In one sense, we start fresh every day. But in another sense, we never do. The “camera” is always rolling, each day building on the last. Are we actually learning, or are we just clicking the button on the video game controller to start over, pretending that the previous life never happened?
Sure, I’m making a plan for next year. But I’m not expecting to be a new person. I’m not ascribing to myself skills or habits that I don’t already have. If I want them, I will have to build them. And in the process, I’m likely to make lots of mistakes and missteps.
When I inevitably do something wrong, I’m not going to start over. I’m not going to go back to my mark and do another take. I’m going to keep going, learning from the experience. With practice, I’ll improve. Day by day, I’ll change the plan or add detail to it based on what I learn.
I don’t expect the upcoming year to be so different from this one. At least, not the start of it. But if I follow through on what I have in front of me right now and do it again and again, I might end up growing and changing a lot by the end. That’s not the magic of a new year. That’s me, day by day, doing the work.
