New Year's Reflections: Ripping Off Band-Aids® and Finding Intention



New Year's Reflections: Ripping Off Band-Aids® and Finding Intention



ORANGE, CA - Confession: I am better at big, rapid changes than incremental ones over time. Please rip the Band-Aid® off in a douse-the-fire transformation rather than learning over 30 days how to drink more water. So, while the chance to start anew is always tempting, it is rarely something I take seriously.

But the closing of a chapter makes for a natural launch point that is hard to resist. To succeed, I have leaned into my love of a good streak—trackers which reward me with a shot of serotonin when marking I’ve read/worked out/meditated for X amount of days. The downside, though, is losing the joy of the practice that was my reason to even begin. It becomes more about the box checked than the experience, and I’m left feeling both tired from the effort and dissatisfied with the result.
Hitting your goals isn't always about making big changes all at once, as Melissa De Leon Chavez discusses

A consistent piece of feedback at AndNowUKnow when a draft goes askew is to ask about intention. Where were you intending to take the reader when going this route? Did you even intend to take this route at all?

That is not to say that we shouldn’t follow the ribbons of creativity where they choose to lead us—far from it! But, amid the chase there are many tendrils that look like paths, tricking the mind and the story until we’ve run unexpectedly off course. It’s something I need reminding of often in writing. And, evidently, in life.

Bringing myself back to why I am here to begin with—“here” being the latest Master Class, course, etc.—is my latest pursuit of a brighter shade of life. Hence the preference for big-gesture changes, which allow me to realize the achievement while the excitement of beginning is still fresh, packing a real punch.

Carving a path of intention can sometimes be an exhausting course—but it's well worth it in the end

Typically, the drastic goal requires a short-term hyper rearrangement in my life, my priorities, and my energy—for example, a 200-hour yoga teacher training amid one of our busier times of the year. It’s hard, and it’s exhausting, but it also feeds an otherwise starved part of me that becomes a lightning rod for my soul.

What if I brought that commitment to more—called myself back to intention and parceled out the commitment and energy I’ve already proven I have?

This year, like so many others, is one of possibilities, not promises. It is up to each of us to maximize each day we are gifted. And a gift it truly is. So I am grateful for this space. This chance to begin again. I’m grateful for the opportunity to make such commitments, to try so many things, and to try again when I don’t get it right.

My hope is that when, inevitably, this is a challenge to remember, I can come back to this story to find that gratitude again. My dream is that I’m not the only one to do so.