Life’s a cycle, a circle. While I get the poetic meaning and all, why is this random point of the rotation of the earth around the sun the one starting point?
Circles don’t have a beginning or an end – it makes no sense. We’ve conditioned ourselves to time so much we made it into a clock – a circle – that we say starts at 12. And the hours surrounding the 12 dictate our success or our failure but also promise the possibilities of new beginnings. Call me a pessimistic, but halfway through the lap all of those efforts are forgotten in the corner anyway. We are creatures of habit.
Well, you do you, but I’m gonna start at 8. Or 15:54 (military time does make more sense than AM/PM – am I being hypocritical here by having a favorite way to tell the time?) Who knows. I’ve been guilty of the typical New Years resolution – a goal in January and a forgotten thought by mid-March, often buried so deep in a sea of thoughts that guilt doesn’t even visit. But no more. I have my goals, I know when they can physically start, I have my eyes set on the journey and not the destination – the grind and not the reward – and I’m treating my future self with love and care rather than slapping her in the face with a bucket of unrealistic to-dos that are set up for failure.
That being said, happy celebration of an arbitrary point in the rotation of our planet around the Sun. I hope the best circle is yet to come.