A New Day's Resolution
Morning Thoughts #250
A new day’s resolution: another phenomenon of hope, but also — the prospect of the same arc (think new year’s) played out over a shortened timeline.
The new day’s resolution. The rush of it. Those first few inspired hours. And then — the relapse. The loosening of inspiration, of discipline. One exception made, which eases the grip of motivation altogether. Until suddenly, around dinner time, the day has burned out. What started with hope has regressed more or less back to the mean.
And so you give in to the call of less productive hours, as the night winds down, attached again to the scroll of repeating self. You permit it, in somewhat good conscience, thinking of the wonder of the morning — the heightened will to plan for action, to act in line with your stated principles. Tomorrow morning, with coffee, before food, the day will feel fresh again. A new day’s resolution ahead.
And yes, there is some good to this. It can prevent excess slippage in a life. But real progress, too, gets prevented. Every fall has an easy out — or that’s how it might seem.
Resolutions are useful. But they can also become a drug. A dependency. One step ahead in the morning and one step back at night gets you nowhere.
One step ahead six days in a row, followed by one step back on the seventh — or better still, six days of steps ahead, then one true day of rest — that’s a more sustainable rhythm. A more biblically-sanctioned roadmap for growth born of resolutions.
And yes, there is desperation in some resolutions. Even plateauing can be a kind of desperation. But what I want to grow toward (and I’m worried this is just another morning resolution) is something else.
Reflective resolutions.
Resolutions born of reflection, not desperation. Reflection that happens in quiet moments of rest — like the climber pausing mid-mountain, sitting on the rock, admiring the view. Necessary for regaining strength, but also an opportunity to reorient, if necessary.
Sometimes the most necessary resolutions aren’t geared towards upward motion at all. They feel like digging out. A fighting retreat. A downward detour required to find a better trail to the peak.
Resolutions born of the same sin, repeated time and again, become treadmills. Burning the energy of the day, but going nowhere.