On New Year’s Eve, I was asked for my resolutions for the New Year. While my wife and my friends had theirs, I firmly answered that I didn’t want any.
I’m 49, and I’ve had goals for my entire life. I would say more dreams than goals, to be precise. And maybe that was the problem. But the point is that my desirable self lived in the future.
I am a quiet person, calm and peaceful. I’m usually present and mindful. I’m connected with the present moment, at many levels. The problem is not that I’m not able to live in the present. It’s that my dreams were so big that they always lived only in the future. That’s to say that they weren’t real, precisely as dreams are supposed to be.
I tried, and failed. Then postponed. Then repeated with a different dream. Or earned a living.
I didn’t give my dreams the priority, converting them into goals and then into actions, providing value and getting value. Making sacrifices for them. All the way. As if it was a job.
Other things got the priority. Distracted me. Asked me. Attracted me.
They say society makes you this. Or childhood imprinting. Or laziness.
Maybe. I let those things work too. But the truth is that I was simply short-sighted and weak. I thought I needed other things. I thought my family needed other things. I thought I liked other things.
I thought I had time.
What’s the best day to work on your goals? Today, of course. Not New Years Day, but today. Anyone knows it. Day by day you can build Rome, but you have to start and continue to build.
I had too many tomorrows and New Years.
Of course, New Year’s resolutions can be something less demanding, like losing weight or stopping that bad habit. But that’s not for me now. Because I’m out of time. No more time for gentle manners or distractions.
So, I don’t have resolutions. I have goals. I know the first, and it’s damn better for me to get a move on.