Month: January 2023

Metaphor in a pile of paper

I rotate my head around and up and down and to the left and to the right, grasping for the next topic and the next few words to write.

My eyes come to rest on toy animals, books, the ashes of beloved pets, the gentle but firm snowfall outside, and a pile of paper on a surface that I promised would never again be covered with piles of paper. There: A goal for when this writing session ends.

We load up our lives with scraps of tasks, one on top of the other, and soon we are so piled up that we have neglected the original task — in this case, to keep it all clear of distractions. The famous aphorism may say it best: When you’re waist deep in alligators, it’s easy to forget that your plan was to drain the swamp.

I’m fortunate, this time, that the pile is not so high that I might despair of seeing the surface of my desk ever again.

Now, once I reach the surface, I need to promise myself — again — that it will stay clear. Some promises need to be renewed a few times before they stick.

Fulfillment of the quest

© Demid | Dreamstime.com

Once upon a time a young man set off on a quest. He was full of hope and optimism and maybe just a touch of anxiety that he may not be up to the task. But he dove into the quest with enthusiasm and confidence and maybe just a touch of arrogance — he was a young man, after all.

Along the way he encountered trials and tribulations, an occasional monster, and occasional triumphs, and he met a fair damsel to spend the rest of his life with — uh oh, maybe not that long — and then another, this time for sure, and well, he made his way toward the goal as best he could.

One day, he was resting from an especially daunting episode and reflecting on it all, when suddenly he sat bolt upright in his easy chair.

“My God!” he cried. “I’m living happily ever after, and I almost didn’t realize!”

And so he was. He looked all around him, at the life he was living, and saw it all as if with new eyes.

A person writing his story might say, “The End,” at this point, but that moment was everything but.

New Week’s Day

Ah, Monday. Oh dear, Monday. The poor misunderstood thing. So many people believe that they can’t trust that day.

What if — just imagining here — What if we thought of Monday in the same way we think of New Year’s Day? Instead of beginning a new 365-day cycle with celebrations and resolutions and new beginnings, what if we whittled the cycle down to seven days? 

That way we only have to keep those daunting resolutions for six days, and then we go out and celebrate New Week’s Eve, and then we have our New Week’s Day holiday before settling back into the routine on Monday.

Monday becomes the second day in January, only every week. Mind you, I’m just talking about mindset here, not the weather — it will probably be easier to drum up enthusiasm of this sort on Monday, June 12, for example.

Think of it: Every week, new resolve, new goals, new beginnings, new opportunities, all the fun of the new year, without the dread of long-term commitments and fear of failure. “Go to the gym three times a week” is a much more manageable goal than “Go to the gym 1,095 times between now and Dec. 31.” Even I might be able to do three, and next Monday is another new beginning.

I think I’m onto something here. It’s nothing new. It’s even a semi-cliche: “How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.” Every Monday becomes a new opportunity to reset and start over, just like New Year’s Day.

Last week I read a story about how someone determined that the third Monday in January is the most depressing day of the year — something about New Year’s resolutions fizzling out, the holiday season becoming a distant memory, and two more months of winter to stare down.

But if we approach the new week in the same frame of mind as we do the new year — hope, optimism and all those other senses we sense on Jan. 2 — it might change almost everything. What do you think?