Oh Look - A Nice New Year. Hope I've kept the receipt somewhere.....

I think we got away with it. Noone mentioned parties, or enjoying themselves. Phew.

And I'm the last one still up which just proves that I'm the most cool. The sad thing is, I probably believe this.

Now, the other night I decided to execute a very interesting experiment. I wrote all my New Year's Resolutions (yes I've already conceded that I am sad) in the back of my 2010 diary, and then flicked to the front and read last year's list to see how many were identical. Result: Gone down from 38 to 33 - but plenty of time to add more. (I'm sure I did last year - recall having over 40.) And about 14 were the same. The rest being almost the same. And I can boil them all down to 1 really: get off your fat arse. But the ones that struck me most we last year's No. 35 - 'Remember to be ME' (missing from the new list) and this year's No.7 - 'Add another dance thing'. Dancing is big in my head lately. Realised it is a deep need! Not just something to embarrass the children, although that is an extra benefit.

Then I did something really strange today. I pulled down my 'pigeon hole' thing from the top of the fridge - where paper stuff gets shoved for a couple of years until I then stuff it into another holding cell to wait its eventual summons to enter the sacred grounds of The Filing Box, under the coats. Some hope. But get me, I also grabbed this purgatorial holding cell and by the end of the day I had got both bastards sorted. Oh praise be.

It took all day. Lots of interruptions obviously - wiping boy bottoms, stuffing chicken bottoms, sourcing tracksuit bottoms etc but even on a good run (like for most of The Sound of Music) I could only do about 7 minutes with my eyes open before I had to bang my head on the table a dozen times. How do people work in offices all day? Insane. Next year (bugger that's just happened) - The Hallowed Filing Box shall be raised from its dust tomb and cracked open. Whilst praying I didn't lay a curse on it last time. I really do hate filing that much.

Sorry - all this tedious shit is leading somewhere I promise...... In the wodge of crap I found this poem. I think it's a poem - it doesn't rhyme or nuttin' but the lines are grouped poem-style like, but I'm no expert. (Ah - No.31 'Stop rambling'.) I was given this sheet of wonder one time last year by my counsellor, skim read it whilst nodding and saying 'oh this looks very interesting', made a mental note to take it in properly when I got home despite worrying it was some kind of hippy shit, and then, evidently, poked it into the white oblivion above the fridge. And today, I actually read the damn thing. Blimey. So..... here it is:


Oriah Mountain Dreamer

(Hang on a minute - I know the title already looks like bollocks but Bear With here)

What if there is no need to change?
No need to try to transform yourself
Into someone who is more compassionate, more present, more loving, or wise?
How would this affect all the places in your life where you are endlessly trying to be better?

What if the task is simply to unfold,
To become who you already are in your essential nature:
Gentle, compassionate, and capable of living fully and passionately present?

What if the question is not
'Why am I so infrequently the person I really want to be?'
But 'Why do I so infrequently want to be the person I really am?'
How would this change what you think you have to learn?

What if becoming who and what we truly are happens not through striving and trying
But by recognising and receiving the people and places and practices
That are for us the warmth of encouragement we need to unfold?
How would this shape the choices you make about how to spend today?

What if you knew that the impulse to move in a way that creates beauty in the world
Will arise from deep within
And guide you every time you simply pay attention
And wait.

How would this shape your stillness, your movement,
Your willingness to follow this impulse
To just let go
And dance?


It says at the bottom that this is the Prelude to 'The Dance', 2001 Harper Collins, which having just googled it seems to be one of a series of books about relationships and being a wumman and stuff - I have no idea if these are fantastic or the usual torrent of wordy words - but I liked 'The Prelude'. And it all seemed very apt for the current 'I must be a totally different kind of person' list that so many of us compile.

So there it is.

I am still going to copy my NY's Res's into the front of my new diary - but I'm placing last year's No.35 at No.1 and the new No.7 into the No.2 slot. And just see if I'm not the coolest ever - all year long. Yeah baby......


Actually I've just realised I've already broken one of them - two of them - a combo of No. 4 and No.30 which was to become my new motto:

Go to bed and read. Get up and write (or draw).

I'm most definitely the last one still up and judging by the clock, this is very much not cool even a bit.

Bollocks.

There goes another one.