I've been getting a lot of enquiries lately about the nature of resolutions:
Why do we resolve? Is it even a real thing -- a resolution? Isn't it more like an idea? Why don't we just do the things we want to do rather than resolving to do them?
I suppose most people have some form of answer to these and similar questions, answers that somehow relate to experiences they've had, stories they've read, studies they've seen, and Rocky movies.
My answers come from a combination of all of these things, but, as with my answers to most questions, language is at the heart of the matter. When we resolve to do something, when we make a conscious decision -- I am going to . . . -- we make our actions possible through the language we use to shape our vows.
Language, I think, is strange like this, because we can use it to steel ourselves against hardships: we can, for instance, say, "I am going to quit smoking," and by saying this we create a world in which quitting smoking is more possible; it is more concrete, very specific, much more than, say, "I am going to do better."
But we can also use it as a crutch: we can say, "I am going to quit smoking," and then we don't have to do anything, because we've already taken a first step; we've already determined that we will someday do something.
A resolution becomes a real thing when it is an agent of change. But, again, this has entirely to do with each individual being honest with herself. Again I'm thinking, Mark Twain: "Quitting smoking's easy. I've done it a hundred times." And I'll bet most smokers have had this experience, where they've said, "As soon as I finish this pack, I'm done" or "This is my last one" or "Tomorrow morning, no more." And for some folks, that's enough. But for many of us . . . well, I'll just have this one more . . . and it goes on like that.
My friend's grandfather quit smoking when cigarettes went up to forty-five cents a pack. He was a chain smoker and just dropped the habit, because of a nickel. Ha! How beautiful is that! Still a nickel doesn't deter most of us -- a small price to pay for a fix, right?
I heard a show on NPR recently where a pack-a-day woman, who felt criticized by a friend said, "Okay, if I ever smoke another cigarette, I'll donate a thousand dollars to the KKK." She said she thought that particular donation was the most heinous thing she could think of doing, so no matter how badly she has wanted a cigarette over the past few decades, she has never lit another one. But, again, let's face it, for most of us, such a resolution would just mean funding an awful institution.
So we have to be honest with ourselves -- and I'm saying this, because I'm still looking for suggestions for this inaugural resolution -- what are we willing to do? what do we want to do? how are we going to do it? Email me: otherpeoplespromises@gmail.com
Also, why do we resolve? Well, you all remember this scene from Spaceballs: The Movie.
This is why we don't just go: because sometimes we end up falling on our ass.
Why do we resolve? Is it even a real thing -- a resolution? Isn't it more like an idea? Why don't we just do the things we want to do rather than resolving to do them?
I suppose most people have some form of answer to these and similar questions, answers that somehow relate to experiences they've had, stories they've read, studies they've seen, and Rocky movies.
My answers come from a combination of all of these things, but, as with my answers to most questions, language is at the heart of the matter. When we resolve to do something, when we make a conscious decision -- I am going to . . . -- we make our actions possible through the language we use to shape our vows.
Language, I think, is strange like this, because we can use it to steel ourselves against hardships: we can, for instance, say, "I am going to quit smoking," and by saying this we create a world in which quitting smoking is more possible; it is more concrete, very specific, much more than, say, "I am going to do better."
But we can also use it as a crutch: we can say, "I am going to quit smoking," and then we don't have to do anything, because we've already taken a first step; we've already determined that we will someday do something.
A resolution becomes a real thing when it is an agent of change. But, again, this has entirely to do with each individual being honest with herself. Again I'm thinking, Mark Twain: "Quitting smoking's easy. I've done it a hundred times." And I'll bet most smokers have had this experience, where they've said, "As soon as I finish this pack, I'm done" or "This is my last one" or "Tomorrow morning, no more." And for some folks, that's enough. But for many of us . . . well, I'll just have this one more . . . and it goes on like that.
My friend's grandfather quit smoking when cigarettes went up to forty-five cents a pack. He was a chain smoker and just dropped the habit, because of a nickel. Ha! How beautiful is that! Still a nickel doesn't deter most of us -- a small price to pay for a fix, right?
I heard a show on NPR recently where a pack-a-day woman, who felt criticized by a friend said, "Okay, if I ever smoke another cigarette, I'll donate a thousand dollars to the KKK." She said she thought that particular donation was the most heinous thing she could think of doing, so no matter how badly she has wanted a cigarette over the past few decades, she has never lit another one. But, again, let's face it, for most of us, such a resolution would just mean funding an awful institution.
So we have to be honest with ourselves -- and I'm saying this, because I'm still looking for suggestions for this inaugural resolution -- what are we willing to do? what do we want to do? how are we going to do it? Email me: otherpeoplespromises@gmail.com
Also, why do we resolve? Well, you all remember this scene from Spaceballs: The Movie.
This is why we don't just go: because sometimes we end up falling on our ass.
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