resolutions

weekly poem | one for the new year

But First Dear Reader, A Note to You:

Has anyone else been feeling unmoored in the constant rush of New Year’s resolutions, the eternal hamster wheel of self-improvement and self-optimising? I know I have. Which is why I had to write a poem about it.

In 1957, Roland Barthes published Mythologies. (Bear with me! It’s relevant, I promise.) He wrote about the cultural ‘myths’ in French society at the time - like the sport of wrestling, and how it was a cultural vessel for audiences to explore ideas of good and bad. Concepts of betrayal and victory.

A ‘myth’ in this context doesn’t mean that something is untrue, but rather that there is a story to be found, a thick layer of meaning. We believe in the story, hold onto it, share it, relate with it. And thus, a myth is born.

I think that News Year’s Day and The Resolution are, in some ways, a myth.

A myth of rebirth. Of renewal. A way of making sense our lives against the dizzying passage of time.

As humans, we have always had stories around time and renewal. We make meaning in patterns of time; in seasons and lunar cycles. And of course, in resolutions. And that’s what this poem is about. Let’s begin.

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Resolutions:

the silence of cicadas. our ancestors travelling the blue-dark plains of the night,

looking up to the stars to see heroes and beasts. we begin in time, space and story. 

in notches on bone fragments, antler, and stone. turning to the sky for spirits

and seasons. we, who have always been keepers of time. every harvest festival,

gathering milk and fruit for the old gods of the hills. the wide drums ringing 

through the long, long grass; O new and generous grain. the story is a circle; 

a snake eating its tail. endings and beginnings: we collect our years like this. 

because, yes, we have known terror; flood and plague. our planet is alive and 

desolate. blunt light hitting our eyes, holding onto wonder because we cannot. 

so maybe we need this. the story. this thumbing of endings and beginnings 

like beads on a necklace, running our fingers over all that is passing us by. 

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resolution: we will be better. more beautiful. 

we cradle our foreheads against the fragile mythology of our age. 

resolution: this time, we will be new, new, new. 

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look this much i know: none of us chose this; this earth, 

this accident of birth, yet here we are. collecting the tail

ends of years before they run out. looking up to the sky

as fireworks rain over us. awe-struck, because this time 

the story is about us. this time, we will be new, new, new.

If you stayed with me all the way to the end of this (fairly long!) poem, then thank-you. I appreciate you.

Whenever I find something culturally frustrating, I’ve gotten into the habit of asking: How did we get here?

I think that the belief that we can reset at midnight and turn into the ‘best versions’ of ourselves is a product of our breathless, fragmented, productivity-obsessed times. But the belief also has an ancient structure; a cyclical story of rebirth. (If you think I’m reading too much into this, then I probably am! Forgive me, it’s my best and worst trait.)

When I zoom out like this, my frustration diminishes. I can see how human all of it is. I can see the story. And that’s what the poetics of the everyday is about. Taking a step back to get closer to familiar things.

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…. Before You Go

I’m so thrilled and stunned that this newsletter has more than a 150 subscribers now. If you liked this piece, then consider subscribing. And if you’re already subscribed, then send this to a friend who needs some poetry in their lives!

And finally, here’s some New Year’s writing that I’ve been loving on Substack this week:

1. “ ‘New Year, New You’ People” by the incredible

   lyz
   where she astutely says:

   ‘New Year’s resolutions have been around for thousands of years. Many of the early resolutions were just about planting crops and appeasing a vengeful god. Today, the vengeful gods we seek to appease are the fitness influencers who try to tell us we have the same amount of time in our day as Kim Kardashian.’

2. ‘New Year, Still A Giant Baby’ by

   Heather Havrilesky
   (who always makes me laugh and cry!) about the importance of not rejecting ourselves.

3. ‘For 2024, how about living a truly quiet life?’ by

   Susan Cain
   , a beautiful ode to the unseen and unspoken.

How are you feeling about 2024? Do you have any resolutions? (And no, I don’t think that we shouldn’t make them!) Talk to me in the comments!