Faith Salie on the real meaning of resolutions
I don't make explicit resolutions anymore.
I have vague wishes – that this may be the year I'll meditate, or return to my college-level French, or finally read "Moby Dick." Call my dad more.
But as I watch my children grow – for children are the real markers of a year flying by – suddenly my son is almost eye-to-eye with me, and my daughter can wear my shoes.
Suddenly I'm the exact age my mother was when she left this Earth.
And all I want is more time. If I could resolve to make more time, I would.
So, I do the thing that comforts me: I go to the dictionary, and I learn the root of "resolution" is Latin – resolvere, which means "loosen, undo, release."
Who knew?
Resolvere sounds gentle, and just what I need, and maybe you do, too.
Maybe this new year can be a loosening.
My beloved Aunt Judy died last year, and what I wanted to keep of hers was one of her prayer cards from her knitting circle. She was Catholic, from Boston, and used to curse by saying things like, "Sweet Redeemuh!" And this card calls the Blessed Virgin Mary "Our Lady, Undoer of Knots." And it asks for help in release from entanglements, and for faith in the unfurling ribbon of our lives.
That is my resolution for myself, and perhaps it speaks to you:
To undo knots.
To allow our most contorted, intractable positions to stretch.
To be willing to see things differently, which may allow us to see things we've never seen before.
To be so present now that we loosen our grip on the past and our white knuckles about the future.
And perhaps that is how we make time slow down, even just a little.
For more info:
Story produced by Liza Monasebian. Editor: Joseph Frandino.
