Over the blissful calm of the Christmas break, I had some time to think, and one of the things I was thinking about was New Year’s resolutions.
Because I’m not actually a big believer in New Year’s resolutions, or endless exhortations for us all to better ourselves simply because the calendar has moved on one day. Chasing some idealised version of ourselves which, in my experience, usually means secretly wishing we were someone else entirely, almost always ends in further self-recrimination as all of our good intentions wind up in a big heap of failure and a sense of same-old, same-old.
But there’s something nevertheless about the dawning of a new year, and the quietness and sleepy darkness of the Christmas period which encourages even the greatest cynic quietly to ponder on the direction in which we are headed, and make sure we actually like our lives; and, to me, that’s a different thing entirely to the emptiness of endless resolutions; in fact, it’s quite necessary. Over the holidays I did what I often do at Christmas time and re-visited some classic literature which makes me feel in comforting and familiar territory, and this year it was the turn of the mighty George Eliot, who has this to say about the turning of the new year:
“We can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger after them.”
-from The Mill on the Floss
And I absolutely agree with her, which isn’t unusual: a sense of longing for what is beautiful and true and often intangible is a key component of being a human being, and lies at the heart of most art and creativity. But that shouldn’t mean we should internalise that experience and end up longing for a version of ourselves which is ineffably ‘better’.
What do I mean?
Well, why might you occasionally find me at the gym? Is it because I’m desperate to be a thinner, sleeker me, an athlete who is a lean, mean running machine? No – that might have been why twenty years ago; but now it’s because I like the feeling of being strong and a bit healthy; I like the message I am sending to myself that I care about myself when I take the time and make the effort to exercise; and I like that it’s something I do on my own, as ordinarily I am surrounded by people almost all of the time. And because I’m doing it for reasons I find meaningful and properly motivational – not because of superficial, unrealistic reasons – I keep doing it. Which leads me to believe that the why of our lives is what really matters – from the smallest things like why we eat what we eat, or why we listen to what we listen to, or sign up for the clubs that we sign up to – all the way to why we choose the A Level subjects and degree courses we do, or careers we pursue, or people we have close relationships with, or why we are the way we are – it’s the why that counts.
This week at our staff inset day we talked about a Japanese concept called Ikigai which basically translates to the Meaning of Life, or the motivation we need to get out of bed every morning with a sense of purpose each day, and here’s a simplified version of what Ikigai looks like:
Illustration: Jun Han Chin
I guess what this is telling us is that if you can twist together in your life the threads of doing something you love, something which you’re good at and therefore gives you affirmation, something which helps others and leaves the world in a better place than when you started, and allows you financial independence and a reasonable way of living, then you will have found the golden balance, you’ll have found your why.
But I don’t think you can get there without knowing first of all why you love doing what you love doing, or why you’re good at the things you’re good at, or why it’s important to use your passions and talents to make the world a better place.
So this January, don’t worry so much about WHAT you’re going to change or do or be; think about your WHY.
Don’t decide to work harder because it’ll make your teachers or parents happy – figure out what it is about doing your best work which satisfies and motivates YOU.
Don’t read more books because you’ve been told it’s good for you, or because you want stuff to put on your UCAS form – find books which spark your interest and imagination and so discover for yourself why reading can be so amazing.
Don’t audition for choir or the play or the netball team because you envy people who seem always to be the star of the show – find out what it is about collaborating with others creatively and in a team that is so magical.
Don’t hang out with people because you think they’re popular or cool and you’re a bit wowed by that – find your tribe, the people who make you laugh and have your back.
And most of all, don’t change the what of who you are. You’re already unique and more wonderful than you know. But when you’re making choices about this one, wild and precious life you have, choices of how to spend your time and energy, do ask yourself why you’re making those choices. And if you don’t like the answer, change the why. It works, I promise.
But, failing all of that, if you can’t find your why just yet and need to spend some time tentatively feeling your way toward a zen-like state of Ikigai: in the meantime, eat some green veg, get some fresh air, be good to other people, and read some George Eliot, why? Well, because I said you should. And for now, at least, I’m still in charge.
Happy New Year.