Some years ago, I took New Year resolutions very seriously. I was hardworking, ran my own business and was prone to perfectionism and people-pleasing. Every New Year, this would all inevitably gather for the perfect storm, by way of a demanding list of things that I knew would improve my life if only I could stick at them. I needed to go to the gym, be more on top of my finances, be more assertive in some aspect of my business. I’d feel motivated for a little while, believing that these actions would take me to some new, happier version of myself, but a couple of months in and things would be back to the usual place. I would be no richer, healthier, happier or more assertive. As a new parent, more things appeared on my lists. I would make sure to sleep better, we would do more crafty things, we would eat more organic food. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with my intentions, but they had a sense of striving about them, and although our society loves us to strive, in truth I’ve learned that nothing much joyful tends to come from that place.
I’ve written quite a lot about motivation and the world of difference between intrinsic and extrinsic motivation, particularly in the context of children and learning. I think my old resolutions would fall into that slippery category of “internalised extrinsic motivation”. These are the things that we feel we “should” or “have to” do. They tend to come from comparing ourselves to others, from a desire for external approval or from conditioned notions of success. So, although they are intrinsic (no one else is asking them of us), they are not born with a heartfelt “Yes!’ And when they lack that intrinsic life energy, they are little more than demands in disguise. So it isn’t surprising that nothing ever shifted.
Some years on now and, thanks to my children, a little wiser to those sneaky internalised demands, I still love to sit with a notepad on the last days of the year and ponder my life. But now I think in terms of resistance and flow. What are the things in my life that come with that unstoppable energy and what are the things that cut me off from that energy or create resistance to it? This thought process is helped by the fact that we always spend Christmas with my mother in my childhood home, and there is a special clarity that can only come from being back in your teenage bedroom.
On the face of it, none of my resolutions has much to do with my children, but indirectly, they have everything to do with my children. The most obvious way that my children are impacted is that their mother is no longer wielding a list of things she needs to improve upon. Unschooling has given our children the precious opportunity to live without constant comparison to peers and without expectations that they should be anything other than what they are. Occasionally, as they get older, I see moments when the weight of some kind of external expectation kicks in. Then, they may spend some time focused on improving some aspect of themselves or their knowledge so that it can fit better into those expectations. These moments, like my resolutions, are determined but joyless. The lack of energy in them means they fade away quickly, unable to hold their own in the midst of all the exuberant energy that accompanies the things my children love to do and feel intuitively called to do. These are the things that are inherently meaningful to them, that make them happy and connect them tightly to their sense of self. To ignore what they’ve shown me and create a list for myself that has everything to do with comparing and external expectations would be proof that I’ve learned nothing.
So, I am following my children’s lead. I have all these things in my life too. But, partly because I am an adult with three children and some added responsibilities, and partly because I have decades of social conditioning around what is expected of me in the world, it is far easier for me to lose sight of the things that make me feel whole and connected. For me, there needs to be a little more intentionality.
So, here is my list of those things that I will intentionally enjoy as much as possible this year in the simple knowledge that they help everything else flow:
1.Running
I took up running two years ago with the local running club. I still sigh a little inwardly when it’s time to leave the house on a cold, wintery Tuesday evening, but I love the community, have made some good friends, have discovered much local countryside, and I always feel great after a run. And, the more I run, the more I enjoy it. My running also inspired my oldest son to do the couch to 5K course at the club. We marked New Year’s Day by joining in a local run, and we’re now training together for a half-marathon in a couple of months time. I could never have imagined that possibility, yet here we are.
2. Weaving
As a child, I loved to make things, and was generally surrounded by creative mess—bits of cut up paper and material, beads, stray pins and needles. As a teenager, this morphed into teaching myself dressmaking which, besides being a cheap way to always have new clothes, was also deeply calming and satisfying. For many years I lost track of my creativity and it got buried under the busyness of life—there just never seemed to be time to do anything that wasn’t work or child-related in some way. So, I am now enjoying weaving. I’m not particularly good at it yet, but I find it has exactly the same calm and satisfying qualities as dressmaking had when I was younger. And, when I make space in my day or evening to weave, I am also creating space in my mind. So, things that have felt problematic often find a gentle solution in this space, and ideas that I have been mulling over take on a more definite shape. Weaving has the added benefit that it doesn’t combine well with looking at a screen, but is the perfect companion to the radio or a podcast. So I often find myself finally able to listen to a podcast that I hadn’t yet found time for. And, one person doing something gentle and crafty often encourages others to try their hand at things, so jewellery making, dressmaking and crocheting have also made their way into our lives.
3. Sea-swimming
A little like running in the cold, there is always some nervous trepidation before a dip in the sea, but it is unfailingly invigorating and good for the soul. And, every time I venture into the chilly English Channel, I am reminded that our fear of what is to come is often unfounded, and that our capacity to adapt is far more that we can comprehend. I enjoy the sisterhood of the experience, the huddling around flasks of hot tea after, and the occasional fire on the beach. My daughter loves the sea too, and although she hasn’t yet made it into the water after October, I suspect that as she gets older it will always feel like something entirely within her reach.
4. Gardening
After two years on a waiting list for a town allotment, my number finally came through and I have a small plot with a shed on a community allotment. Before accepting it, I spent a couple of days pondering my motivation for this project, and whether owning and working an allotment would really be fun and nourishing, or whether I’d drown under its demands for my time. So, this particular resolution is under a little scrutiny. I took the plunge finally because one of my sons loves the idea and wants to grow a medicinal herb garden, and because two good friends are also keen to get involved. So, alongside a bumper crop of nutritious fruit and vegetables, I am imagining long summer days, working the land in good company then settling down for a cup of tea by a fire pit. Watch this space.
5. Community
And, finally, investing time in our own little communities of meaningful people always pays rich dividends. Our society makes this more challenging than it probably should be, and we can end up feeling like time with friends is a precious extra in our lives. But human beings are naturally driven to connect with others and to form relationships, and there is a plethora of research into why relationships are vital to our emotional wellbeing. Intentionally making time and space to embrace other people in our lives is not only enriching for us, but also models some powerful things to our children. For example, that it is normal to give and receive support. And, that it’s okay to acknowledge that a family also has its limitations, and that some of our social needs will be naturally be better met by other people. Many of the people that have come into my life have also come into my children’s lives in different ways. They have brought interesting stories, unexpected connections, and new interests.
And there we have it. I do also have several work projects on the go, so I could easily have popped in a resolution around writing for two hours every morning, or put some deadlines in place to make sure I am on track and productive with other commitments. I could have added in all the things my children are doing and seeing if I can schedule life in a more effective way. I could have added in something about sourcing more of our food locally and cooking some more adventurous dinners, or about my commitments to wider society. But the truth is that all those things are far more likely to happen all by themselves if I am simply feeling present, connected and inspired, and these simple, joyful things are the best ways I know to connect with that energy. And so although it may seem like a rather indulgent list, when things flow for me they tend to flow better for us all. So, it is probably far more generous than former lists ever were.
And what would you put on your list for 2024? What are the things that naturally help you get into a place of flow?
A PLACE ON A HILL 
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