In a few hours - and fewer hours by the time you get to the end of this procrasti-ramble - it will be another year. 2016 will be in the past and 2017 will open its doors and lie before us. Which is all pretty obvious really. This being 31st December. What perhaps isn't so obvious are the hopes and aspirations we invest in this passing into the New Year. The promises that we wish upon ourselves and that we call resolutions.
Brief intermission in the ramble for a picture of the end of a winter's day
The New Year's Resolution is a gift in the hands of a procrastinator. Hours ... no, days ... spent planning exactly what to pick; which dissatisfaction with oneself to correct; which dream to commit to; which impossible ambition to clamber towards. Note the words dissatisfaction, dream and impossible and call me a cynic. Or a realist. Or a resolution agnostic.
Why do we accede to the annual resolution humiliation?
Where and when did resolution-making start?
Why do I have convolutions and resolutions in this blog's title? And a Roman God?
New Year - new beginning and, as in my title, I'll start with convolutions.
Convolution - definition: complication, entanglement, complexity. Muddling something up or making it more difficult than it needs to be.
In Maths, a convolution involves Fourier transforms; theorems; integral operations; variables in three dimensions; infinite limits; vectors; proofs; crystallography; a French aristocrat born in 1755 called Parseval; and something referred to as a Gaussian, which arguably is about as convoluted as a definition could possibly be. Thankfully, I am not a Mathematician. I frequently inform people that one plus one equals more than two. Which it does. Sometimes. But ... I will cease this procrasti-ramble and tackle resolutions next. Then attempt to blend convolutions and resolutions ... which is kind of what Fourier did with convolution integrals ... but I am rambling again. Maybe I should resolve to stop rambling?
Resolution - definition: something we promise ourselves; usually aimed at self improvement, but weighed down by self-delusion and unachievable peaks of hope. Frequently abandoned by the end of the first week of the new year. And if not abandoned then reinterpreted, and redefined into a mutant form of its lofty ambition and dropped, smothered with excuses, by the end of January.
Although we've had longer to practice, apparently those of us over 50 are most likely to fail - you'd really think we'd know better. By now. But no. On and on we go. A broken record of promises, of January debuts and January disappointments. Of diets stuffed; abstentions spoiled; early rises snored through; exercises stumbled over and endless hours of bargaining and deception as if somehow we might turn a blind inner eye to our foibles and our if I do this then that won't count and it's only a little cheat which doesn't mean I've failed. Little cheats become big cheats. And not counting soon snowballs until the not counting no longer matters, because failure is failure is failure. We really need to stop tying ourselves up in convoluted resolutions we can't keep. Or stop making them altogether.
Can we improve the keep-ability of the resolutions we make? Perhaps the history of resolution-making might give us some clues -
Google suggests that the ancient Babylonians made New Year's resolutions - how do we know? And can we assume they were honest in the records they made? Whatever scrap of papyrus or piece of stone those records were written on. We wouldn't write down the promises we made to better ourselves that burned before the end of the month. It would be akin to saying 'look how strong and noble and committed I am,' followed a few days or weeks later by 'oops, you know what I said about being a better, stronger, braver person, well it turns out I'm none of those things; turns out I'm the same fat, lazy, selfish slob that I was last year.' No, we wouldn't record that. The Babylonians probably didn't either. But I'm no historian, perhaps they did. Them and the ancient Romans who apparently did the same. They - the Romans - named January after the god Janus, who being two-faced could simultaneously look forward and backward. On the eve of the New Year, the Romans mimicked Janus by looking back at the year just past and ahead into the year ahead. And made their ancient resolutions - probably to fight with a firmer fist and to love more passionately and to drink less wine and to strive for a fitter physique. Not that different to many resolutions now.
Take a look back at 2016 - how was it for you?
Collectively, it was a nightmare, pinch-yourself-to-check-you're-not-dreaming, car-crash of a year: Syria, Brexit and Trump; Bowie, Prince and Rickman; Sacks, Wogan and Wood; Fisher, Michael and Wilder; Kurdi, Daqneesh and Arbash. The last three names so difficult to find. So hard to remember. So terribly hard to record. All four of them; the two Arbash children being just two of the estimated 50,000 children killed escaping from or in the Syrian conflict. It would be harder to stand with apparent indifference before the people of Syria, if we knew the names and lives of every child and mother and son who died. We grieve for the lives of departed celebrities, as we should, because they touched all our hearts. But we should weep too at the loss of others who remain largely unknown to the world.
But ... but ... but 2016 also saw massive strides taken in the fight against malaria and measles. And a corresponding leap in global life expectancy. And the Olympics in Rio. And coffee was found to be good for you. And Dory was lost then found. And Newt Scamander arrived in New York and introduced us to a new Harry Potter world. And Leo won an Oscar. And Rylance became a Knight. And Andy achieved the Number 1 spot. And Froome won again and again and again. And ratification of the Paris Agreement by enough countries means that it starts the fight against Trump standing. And *add here anything else that was good about 2016*.
What of 2017?
Into what world do we leap at midnight on the 31st December? The Romans believed that the gate of Janus was open at times of war and closed during peace. Will we pass through an open door or knock before pushing open a closed one tonight? Perhaps, like children, we shall peep round the door to check for monsters. I suspect some of the resolutions we make are to prepare us better for meeting those monsters.
If we make our resolutions too complicated - I will get myself an x if I lose y in weight; I will treat myself to an a if I achieve b; if I successfully give up c then I will do d - we risk making convoluted resolutions. And if our convolutions involve too many variables they risk blending as per Fourier and becoming an overlapping mish-mash of too many promises. Too much bridge building across a maze of resolutions that can only be solved mid-January by a box of matches. And a hope that neither of Janus's heads is watching.
Procrastinator that I am and also a Capricorn ... so a two-faced Janian (Janusian?) ... who on the one hand sets out with lashings of disdain to put down the shenanigans of resolution-making, but on the other worries (as per) about what my resolutions should be, not wanting to miss out on the ritual, annual humiliation of breaking them, I will more or less reluctantly make the following resolutions for this year ... Or a selection of them. Or just the first and last ones ...
spend less on chocolate, or more on good chocolate but less on cheap chocolate or just more on chocolate that is good
and
... yawn ... lose weight/get fit/learn how to abuse my new fitbit (or should that be abuse myself?)
and
do something to stretch my teeny brain like learn Italian, or cook more Italian food, or just eat more pasta
and
aim for a dog walk every day, which might have the side-effect of achieving my second resolution, unless I stuff my pockets with chocolate
and
fingers crossed ... work less and write more, or turn writing into work, or just write and forget about the work until I run out of pasta and chocolate (see above) and have to do something that actually pays
and
what about some resolutions I could keep?
give more to charity
phone family more often
drink more water
alter my diet - opt for that Italian, Mediterranean, delicious style of healthy colourful cooking and eat less meat/more chocolate
and
read, read, read
and
write, write, write.
What resolutions will you make?
Finally, in this season of recognising what is good, could someone please explain why David Nott wasn't given a knighthood (look him up if you don't know who he is and be prepared to be humbled and awe-struck and give thanks to whatever you believe-in that men and women like him exist).
Ok, so that wasn't quite the final words it suggested it was - this is the final finally - have the Happiest of New Years and a prosperous and safe 2017.
Brief intermission in the ramble for a picture of the end of a winter's day
The New Year's Resolution is a gift in the hands of a procrastinator. Hours ... no, days ... spent planning exactly what to pick; which dissatisfaction with oneself to correct; which dream to commit to; which impossible ambition to clamber towards. Note the words dissatisfaction, dream and impossible and call me a cynic. Or a realist. Or a resolution agnostic.
Why do we accede to the annual resolution humiliation?
Where and when did resolution-making start?
Why do I have convolutions and resolutions in this blog's title? And a Roman God?
New Year - new beginning and, as in my title, I'll start with convolutions.
Convolution - definition: complication, entanglement, complexity. Muddling something up or making it more difficult than it needs to be.
In Maths, a convolution involves Fourier transforms; theorems; integral operations; variables in three dimensions; infinite limits; vectors; proofs; crystallography; a French aristocrat born in 1755 called Parseval; and something referred to as a Gaussian, which arguably is about as convoluted as a definition could possibly be. Thankfully, I am not a Mathematician. I frequently inform people that one plus one equals more than two. Which it does. Sometimes. But ... I will cease this procrasti-ramble and tackle resolutions next. Then attempt to blend convolutions and resolutions ... which is kind of what Fourier did with convolution integrals ... but I am rambling again. Maybe I should resolve to stop rambling?
Resolution - definition: something we promise ourselves; usually aimed at self improvement, but weighed down by self-delusion and unachievable peaks of hope. Frequently abandoned by the end of the first week of the new year. And if not abandoned then reinterpreted, and redefined into a mutant form of its lofty ambition and dropped, smothered with excuses, by the end of January.
Although we've had longer to practice, apparently those of us over 50 are most likely to fail - you'd really think we'd know better. By now. But no. On and on we go. A broken record of promises, of January debuts and January disappointments. Of diets stuffed; abstentions spoiled; early rises snored through; exercises stumbled over and endless hours of bargaining and deception as if somehow we might turn a blind inner eye to our foibles and our if I do this then that won't count and it's only a little cheat which doesn't mean I've failed. Little cheats become big cheats. And not counting soon snowballs until the not counting no longer matters, because failure is failure is failure. We really need to stop tying ourselves up in convoluted resolutions we can't keep. Or stop making them altogether.
Can we improve the keep-ability of the resolutions we make? Perhaps the history of resolution-making might give us some clues -
Google suggests that the ancient Babylonians made New Year's resolutions - how do we know? And can we assume they were honest in the records they made? Whatever scrap of papyrus or piece of stone those records were written on. We wouldn't write down the promises we made to better ourselves that burned before the end of the month. It would be akin to saying 'look how strong and noble and committed I am,' followed a few days or weeks later by 'oops, you know what I said about being a better, stronger, braver person, well it turns out I'm none of those things; turns out I'm the same fat, lazy, selfish slob that I was last year.' No, we wouldn't record that. The Babylonians probably didn't either. But I'm no historian, perhaps they did. Them and the ancient Romans who apparently did the same. They - the Romans - named January after the god Janus, who being two-faced could simultaneously look forward and backward. On the eve of the New Year, the Romans mimicked Janus by looking back at the year just past and ahead into the year ahead. And made their ancient resolutions - probably to fight with a firmer fist and to love more passionately and to drink less wine and to strive for a fitter physique. Not that different to many resolutions now.
Take a look back at 2016 - how was it for you?
Collectively, it was a nightmare, pinch-yourself-to-check-you're-not-dreaming, car-crash of a year: Syria, Brexit and Trump; Bowie, Prince and Rickman; Sacks, Wogan and Wood; Fisher, Michael and Wilder; Kurdi, Daqneesh and Arbash. The last three names so difficult to find. So hard to remember. So terribly hard to record. All four of them; the two Arbash children being just two of the estimated 50,000 children killed escaping from or in the Syrian conflict. It would be harder to stand with apparent indifference before the people of Syria, if we knew the names and lives of every child and mother and son who died. We grieve for the lives of departed celebrities, as we should, because they touched all our hearts. But we should weep too at the loss of others who remain largely unknown to the world.
But ... but ... but 2016 also saw massive strides taken in the fight against malaria and measles. And a corresponding leap in global life expectancy. And the Olympics in Rio. And coffee was found to be good for you. And Dory was lost then found. And Newt Scamander arrived in New York and introduced us to a new Harry Potter world. And Leo won an Oscar. And Rylance became a Knight. And Andy achieved the Number 1 spot. And Froome won again and again and again. And ratification of the Paris Agreement by enough countries means that it starts the fight against Trump standing. And *add here anything else that was good about 2016*.
What of 2017?
Into what world do we leap at midnight on the 31st December? The Romans believed that the gate of Janus was open at times of war and closed during peace. Will we pass through an open door or knock before pushing open a closed one tonight? Perhaps, like children, we shall peep round the door to check for monsters. I suspect some of the resolutions we make are to prepare us better for meeting those monsters.
If we make our resolutions too complicated - I will get myself an x if I lose y in weight; I will treat myself to an a if I achieve b; if I successfully give up c then I will do d - we risk making convoluted resolutions. And if our convolutions involve too many variables they risk blending as per Fourier and becoming an overlapping mish-mash of too many promises. Too much bridge building across a maze of resolutions that can only be solved mid-January by a box of matches. And a hope that neither of Janus's heads is watching.
Procrastinator that I am and also a Capricorn ... so a two-faced Janian (Janusian?) ... who on the one hand sets out with lashings of disdain to put down the shenanigans of resolution-making, but on the other worries (as per) about what my resolutions should be, not wanting to miss out on the ritual, annual humiliation of breaking them, I will more or less reluctantly make the following resolutions for this year ... Or a selection of them. Or just the first and last ones ...
spend less on chocolate, or more on good chocolate but less on cheap chocolate or just more on chocolate that is good
and
... yawn ... lose weight/get fit/learn how to abuse my new fitbit (or should that be abuse myself?)
and
do something to stretch my teeny brain like learn Italian, or cook more Italian food, or just eat more pasta
and
aim for a dog walk every day, which might have the side-effect of achieving my second resolution, unless I stuff my pockets with chocolate
and
fingers crossed ... work less and write more, or turn writing into work, or just write and forget about the work until I run out of pasta and chocolate (see above) and have to do something that actually pays
and
what about some resolutions I could keep?
give more to charity
phone family more often
drink more water
alter my diet - opt for that Italian, Mediterranean, delicious style of healthy colourful cooking and eat less meat/more chocolate
and
read, read, read
and
write, write, write.
What resolutions will you make?
Finally, in this season of recognising what is good, could someone please explain why David Nott wasn't given a knighthood (look him up if you don't know who he is and be prepared to be humbled and awe-struck and give thanks to whatever you believe-in that men and women like him exist).
Ok, so that wasn't quite the final words it suggested it was - this is the final finally - have the Happiest of New Years and a prosperous and safe 2017.
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