January 3, 2020

New Year, New Chances

Resolutions from the VMC Team


It’s the new year, dear friends. You might or might not be the kind of person who’s inclined to use this moment to reflect on the past year and dream and plan for the new year. But I am, for sure. I always find it comforting to pause, look inward, and then focus outward/forward.

I love the cycle of learn–create–experiment. It’s something I do naturally anyway, when it comes to self-improvement. I have an unquenchable thirst for the latest research on what makes us tick and feel called to share whatever’s had the greatest impact on me.

I don’t have a massive megaphone, but with what platform I have, my intention this year is to dig deep into my own insecurities, anxieties, blocks, and dissatisfactions, so I can mine them for what’s most useful to share, powerfully and actively.

Oh, did I mention my book? Also, write a book.


The new year seems to always come with a collective desire to change, to make resolutions to change, and bring back hope that may have waned over the previous year. At 51, I’m not sure if a resolution is quite right for me. Resolutions are about having resolve and solutions. And while having courage and living with purpose are core to my being, marathons and closure are not my forte. That’s not an easy place for me to be.

Harkens me back to my childhood days when chess games transformed from me being three moves away from putting my opponent in checkmate to some collaborative learning space, the “so if you do that, I’m going to do this, and you’ll need to protect this, so you’ll do this, and then I’ll do that. And that’s checkmate…so um, what else could you do that would prevent that from happening?”

I attribute it to being a Gemini. Options and multiple concurrent states of being, of possibilities, of unfolding is an easier place for me to be. I prefer the state of emergence, the space of learning, of opening. Vega and I, ever since we started our own annual personal strategic planning / intentional living process have been moving from a foundation, not from goals and resolutions, but of guiding stars and of intentions (i.e., see our Intentional Life Planning work). So, I’ll start from there. From intentions. From emergence.

So, my intentions (Leadership Wheel assessment): 

  • Practice contemplation. Write. Listen. Breathe. Practice. As someone who envisions future possibilities, I soar when I am rooted in contemplative practice and whole-body, whole-spirit, whole-thought listening to the ethereal life energies around me. Let me manifest my eagle.
  • Stay connected. Write. Listen. Breathe. Practice. Everything gets better when we can ask for help of others, loosen the grip on that which we’re holding too tightly, and step courageously into conflict. Let me manifest my deer.
  • Be prepared. Write. Listen. Breathe. Practice. For the routine, for the tangled webs, for the emergent, for the crisis. A crisis practiced is the management of risk. You know, like if we enter the post reconstruction phase of the alternative fact, that ascended to presidency aided by foreign governments. But that’s my conspiracy theorist speaking. Our response to the impending crisis must be practiced, so that we can relegate the practiced to muscle memory and be free to innovate and create. Let me manifest my bear.
  • Keep partnering with the grounded, the implementer, the closer. Write. Listen. Breathe. Practice. I know my strengths. I’m good at those. And I’m giving deep attention to my doer and partnering with the closer, so I can learn how to do more effectively. Let me manifest my buffalo.

Each day is precious: we give up a day in our lives for it. May you live mindfully today. May you share love. May you be content with the efforts you put forth and at peace with the choices you make.


I’ve been noticing myself saying, “I’m not very resilient” waaaaayy too many times as a way to explain why I was flooded, agitated, overwhelmed, exhausted, crying into my dinner, etc. over the past year. (Because berating yourself for not being resilient is totally a known way to cultivate more resiliency…right? ) 

A truth I know for sure about myself is that I thrive best under very precise, specific, and perhaps unrealistic circumstances. To the degree to which my beloved partner has described me as an orchid – so lovely on a craggy cliffside, but over-spritz at your own peril.

But really, isn’t it resilience that I stay with it, even in spite of being flooded, agitated, overwhelmed, exhausted, the messiness and eternal unpredictable complications of life, etc.? I mean, I’m still here. I’m still trying to find a way. I’m still enjoying the breeze on the craggy hillside. And feelings are meant to be felt – it’s a gift to be able to feel them and hear the lessons they are offering us about our own boundaries, our own sense of self, our own well-being.

So my resolution is to pivot when I want to say “I’m not very resilient” and instead say, “I acknowledge I’m highly sensitive to these circumstances.” As Superman never said, embrace the superpower, don’t dwell on the kryptonite.  

And then in 2018, I committed only to “more” resolutions: specifically, to bake more loaf cakes (HELL YES MORE CAKE!!), to light more candles, and to see the Grand Canyon. And I found it’s much, much, much easier to enact “more” resolutions than “less” resolutions, because I can confidently tell you that in 2019 I saw the Grand Canyon, lit nigh on 100 tealights, and baked a meaningful quantity of loaf cakes. 

So in addition to catching myself when I diminish my own resiliency, in 2020, I will also eat more ice cream.



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