Rarely will I make New Year’s resolutions; rarer still that the few made are kept. Stubborn and resistive by nature, it always seemed more vital that I rebel against my own law and maintain that most annoying part of me.
But I respond to deadlines–even if I leave to the last minute that which I present through stress and discipline so as not to disappoint. And so this coming year will be my last, and time will be used more wisely knowing this.
I shall read, I shall write and I shall learn. By books and from the trees from which they came. Technology and all it offers, and the people–the living hyperlinks that lead to all the source of knowledge–these will be read with sincere intensity, and in my feeble way, sought to comprehend. And I shall keep my home tidy and the work at which I make a living shall be offered up in time. I shall make my needs important and myself as well, but only as in service to those whose needs I can supply. For what good is self-importance when I’m gone? But if someone can say I helped and shed a tear at passing, then my value here on earth has been fulfilled.
With a limit, I shall go beyond my limits; I shall have no need to cling to things that have no meaning in the end. But I shall notice all the layers in life and hear and taste as well as see, for nothing should be missed for in a second it is gone. I shall strive for clarity of thought and instant processing of all the world around me. A passing glance will penetrate, silence will have sound, and nothing will be just as it appears.
There is no time for anger or frustration, mediocrity or apathy when the minutes can be filled with this instead: I shall read, and I shall write, and I shall learn.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology