Hello, my name is Darren and welcome to the Makers Rage podcast. New Year's resolutions, why we fail. Not to begin 2025 on a pessimistic note, but studies do show that most New Year's resolutions are bound to fail. Sometimes it's because we make them unrealistic, such as get a six pack before summer - having never exercised habitually in your 3 or 4 decades of life.
But mostly it's because we're impatient. We want to see results quicker than it takes for them to manifest. And we don't adequately plan for the fundamental changes in behaviour that are needed, changes that are painful, at least to begin with. And the older we get, the more difficult it is to overturn long ingrained behavioral traits . Like the 40 a day smoker who automatically reaches for the cigarette in response to the smallest stressor, because it was long ago they surrendered their will to this habit. Or giving up sugar, one of my weaknesses.
Diabetes runs in my family. As if that was enough of a reason to give up sugar completely. And I didn't. But I certainly reduced my intake significantly. And not wholesale, but by degrees. Use sweeteners in your coffee instead of 2 heaped teaspoons; substitute fruit for that protein bar. Over time, better more sustainable habits will form. But whether it's trying to give up bad habits or adopt good ones, it's by going cold turkey in the former or balls to the wall in the latter case that we set ourselves up for failure each year.
And yet we always begin the new year full of good intentions. This will be the year I finally (well, fill in the blank) ... but then after a short time comes the discomfort, the pain of acclimation, your resolve evaporates, and you've backslid with a vengeance, as if to make up for lost time. The more mettlesome might last until the end of February. But there's a reason the gym, filled to the brim from the first week of January, becomes more commodious as week on week the resolutioners drop away like mayflies.
In the end, resolutions are made to be broken. They are like oaths to ourselves which we readily break because we don't mind disappointing ourselves. We're used to it.
Nevertheless, with each new year, comes the prospect of a new beginning. Like a spring cleaning for the soul, like purging ourselves of the old in preparation for the new. It's no accident, of course, that January occurs not long after the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, after which each day grows gradually longer, the mornings and evenings brighter. Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, said Emily Dickinson. But it's also one of the evils in pandora's jar. It doesn't require effort to hope. It promises much but rarely delivers. Yet we can't help looking in its general direction. Much like its counterpart regret. One forward, one back, Like the two faced god Janus, after whom the month of January is named.
Looking forward to what has not been done, backwards on what can't be undone:
The Old Year's hopes its heart laid down,
As in a grave; but, trusting, said:
"The blossoms of the New Year's crown
Bloom from the ashes of the dead."
it wasn't until Julius Caesar brought in the new calendar that January became the first month of the year. The root of the word janus or yanus means arched passageway or doorway. Incidentally, the English word janitor has the same etymology. A spring cleaning for the soul.
In fact, New Year's resolutions go back to ancient Babylon. And these were made around springtime in March or April. Still a time when the year is young and enough time to make good on them. Babylonian resolutions tended to be small, achievable. Like paying off a small debt or getting up earlier in the morning to make the most of the day. because when they made them it was with an oath to the gods. And the prospect of incurring their wrath can be a strong motivator not to disappoint.
As I already said, these days , we vow only to ourselves . The consequence being yet another regret to throw backwards on the ash heap of regret.
Making our resolutions public might be a solution. Even telling a few close family members or friends will help keep us somewhat accountable. Make it to someone you'd truly hate to disappoint. Imagine that look in their eyes when you feel yourself about to falter.
We May no longer believe in the gods, but I hope we still believe in our friends. And what are the most common resolutions that we make each year?
To exercise more, to lose weight, or eat healthier. Both of which are tied to longevity, and with each new year, despite the year being young, we're reminded that we're actually getting older.
Getting organized is another one. Could be decluttering the house, or just improving time management skills. Saving money, or just being more financially responsible. Learning a new skill or hobby. A new language, say. Or Dropping a couple of grand on a Stratocaster that ends up silently adorning the wall.
Reading more is another one . Expanding the horizons of the brain. And Travelling more, . t he horizons of the soul. To spend more time with family and friends. The cats in the cradle and the sliver spoon. Reduce stress. Or practice mindfulness. IT Was a tainted piece of pork that killed the Buddha, not stress.
And what do our resolutions have in common ?
The be more active. to practice self discipline. For what we neglect to sow now, at the beginning of the year, won't flourish when it comes time to harvest. But what we want to harvest at the end of each year, isn't grain, but a more fruitful and abundant life.
May envy quit your dwelling, and hatred leave your heart. May you rejoice in telling your brother's better part. May you be glad you're living, however dark your way. And find your joy in giving your service to the day.
Carpe diem, in other words: carpe annum. So much of the poetry that involves the new year recalls the two faced god Janus, and the duality of the old and the new, the false and the true, the blossoms of the new year, the ashes of the dead.
The new was but the old come true, said Helen Hunt Jackson again. sylvia Plath Found herself bewildered by how unfamiliar the new can be. This is newness. Every little tawdry obstacle, glass wrapped and peculiar, glinting and clinking in a saint's falsetto. Only you don't know what to make of the sudden slippiness, the blind, white, awful, inaccessible slant.
The shock of the unfamiliar - the discomfort, the solastalgia - as opposed to nostalgia - the distress that is produced by environmental change. And any resolution will by necessity incure such a change.
Plath's use of the word slant here recalls Emily Dickinson. There's a certain slant of light. Winter afternoons that oppresses like the heft of cathedral tunes. I've seen that slant of light on my way to the gym after work in January when I just wanted to go home and collapse in bed. But resilience is as muscle that grows stronger the more you exercise it. And soon I came to love that light, even miss it during summer afternoons.
For D. H. Lawrence, who on New Year's Eve, made no resolutions. And ignored the temporal duality of old and new, beginnings and endings, and stripped Janus bare of his mythology, until he saw there are only two things now, the great black night scooped out and this fire glow.
This fire glow, the core, and we the two ripe pips that are held in store. Listen, the darkness rings as it circulates round our fire. Take off your tings, your shoulders, your bruised throat, your breasts, your nakedness, this fiery coat. As the darkness flickers and dips, as the firelight falls in leaps, from your feet.
To your lips.
