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How to have a truly happy new year.

For the first time in years, I don’t remember my New Year’s resolution from January. Usually, I write it down in my journal or on a note I stick to my mirror. There’s been many of those dog-eared sticky notes from years past. The year of contentment. Speaking life. We passed pancakes across the breakfast table on January 1st this year. “What do you want from 2018?” I can’t remember my answer. I know what I didn’t want though. I didn’t want to walk into her office and share the parts of my life I’m inclined to hide. I didn’t want to Facetime her the day after she delivered her baby that never breathed. I didn’t want to spend four months wondering how I’d walk into her house on Christmas day and see her empty chair. I didn’t want to go on another first date that led nowhere. We sit across from each other in a little coffee shop in Colorado, picking at a charcuterie board. “When I think about all of the things I have left to go through,” her voice cracks....

Practice Makes...

We are barely over the last snow drift at the end of our long, gravel lane before I start murmuring all of the things I need to do before next week. I list each task, one by one, as she listens patiently. I want to make her understand that I have reasons to be miserable.

She is sympathetic.
           
I’ve caught glimpses of them on the ice, on the benches, holding medals high. Gold. Silver. Bronze. Athletes practice to make perfect.
            
I’ve been practicing too: forming my complaints, building my stress, and performing my unhappiness. The problem of practice is that it also makes imperfect.
            
What if we viewed each moment as training ground? Actions in this moment shape our reactions in the next one. One day, at the end of the race, we want to win the prize. We have the perfect Coach.

Why not go for gold? 



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