Most of us approach the new year with the hopeful trepidation one normally reserves for reaching out to pet a stray dog. We put out our hands and hope for the best, but deep down we know the odds of making a new friend are only slightly better than making a mad dash to the emergency room.
Resolutions for a new year are fraught with this same questionable logic. They are promissory notes tied to an arbitrary date on the calendar, weighted down by repeated failures to follow through while temporarily dressed up as a hopeful harbinger of good things to come. It’s a suffering invitation disguised as opportunity.