Garden Variety Wisdom

To left of where I sit lies a brand new yellow pad, and on it, in numerical order, a concise list of activities, I resolved to resolve.

Soon.

As soon as I am able.

So I complete number one and cross it off with a flourish of my black Sharpie. Snort. So there. Done.

Resolved.

I stare at bullet point numero dos, and look away quickly. Oooh that one. Uhhh, yeah that one. Let’s see what about number three? Yeah. That one.

Instead I decide to reorganize, rather than resolve. So I reorganize my paper clip box. Sort out the plastic colored thumbtacks that had wandered in uninvited. Hah! Then I reorganize all the folders on my desktop, and arrange them in alphabetical order.

Okay. Back to those resolutions. Nope. Shredding. Everyone needs to do some shedding, some shredding of excess in the New Year, so why not me? I love my shredder. I love it so much, I shred two garbage bags full of miscellaneous piles of meanderings, that I compile randomly and keep for no apparent reason. Thoughts, ideas, suggestions, that at the time I wrote them seemed so clever and fascinating, and now make absolutely no sense. I guess you just had to be there, and I was, but now I have no idea.

Resolve. I resolve to...

Go on the Web and look up the definition of the word...RESOLUTION.

Wow! Two full pages of definitions. One for the legal community. One for medical personnel. One for writers and authors. Scientists. Chemists. Grammarians. Actors. Camera buffs.

Yet the one that catches my eye, grabs my attention is, and I quote...

“The process or capability of making distinguishable the individual parts of an object, closely adjacent optical images, or sources of light.”

Stay with me folks. This is where the real fun begins. Instead of staring down my list of resolutions, I stare instead at the wood grain patterns of the floor beneath my feet, and gasp. I see a face.

Yup. A woman’s face with long curly swirly hair cascading down her back. Oh and over there, a squid. With one eye. Wait. A feather. A perfect feather fanning out in layers.

Yup. Crazy time. Too much time sitting in one place procrastinating, hiding and evading the truth. It is January. It snowed last night. Bitterly cold outside. When I turned out the light last night, I felt smug and satisfied. I had a plan. A list. And no more excuses. I resolved to resolve everything on my yellow pad list before the end of this business day.

This monkey business day, instead, I am monkeying around. Procrastinating. Putting off. Avoiding. Refusing to be resolved.

I know exactly what I need.

Not resolution. More of a revolution.

Perhaps a revelation. A new beginning.

To be honest with both you and myself, I need to play. I need to be less serious. I need to quit looking back, and to jump headfirst into this New Year, with fresh eyes. A clean sheet of paper. Crayons and alcohol ink experiments, new lines and designs. Scissors and glue and paper cut outs, and of course, words words words.

I hope you will be patient with me. The truth is I have a new story bubbling inside my head. Very different from the Yard Yeti Gardener’s Tale. In fact the first chapter is one of the few things I did not shred. It has been an itch under my skin since early last year, but I let too much else pile on top.

One of the other definitions of Resolution reads…
when an inflammation subsides...

You know the feeling. You wake up one morning, and the pain is gone. Really gone. Relief. Relief followed by the sheer and simple joy of doing the things you love once more, only this time it won’t...hurt.

Here’s to new and less painful beginnings for us all. Here’s to the joy of a new discovery, the thrill of a new skill, the first page of a new book.

My resolution is to help you enter the New Year with a full and happy heart. But I cannot do that if either you or I are staring at the floor looking for optical images to appear. I mean, that was crazy.

So let’s both look up and resolve to make angels in the snow. To be playful, and grateful for one more chance to create.

So resolve NOT to do THIS.