For those who frequent this blog, you know my annual end-of-year rallying cry has always been: ReVolution, not resolution! Why? Because resolutions don’t work. How do I know that? Look at any resolutions you have made and track whether you’ve made that same resolution more than once. When we make New Year’s resolutions, we often set ourselves up for “failure” and disappointment and a slippery slope that lands us right back where we started, or, sometimes, even farther behind. But, if we focus instead on a reVolution — of the heart and mind and soul — we are on the road to real transformation. So this year join me, and resolve to evolve.
I have to share my big news: I’m leaving my position as Director of Communications for the Roman Catholic Diocese of Albany after almost seven years. What’s the plan? To return to what I love to do most: writing, retreat work, and teaching yoga. Truth be told, I’ve been doing all those things while I do my day job, which might be why I’m always exhausted. Something had to give, and there was no way I could give up the work that is my true calling. It wasn’t an easy decision but my heart knew it was time. The still, small voice can get very loud and distracting when we don’t listen the first time (or 100 times). I’m lucky to be able to make this choice; I know not everyone can. I will write more about this soon, but for now, here is the media release issued by the Diocese of Albany with all the details:
Regular readers of this blog know that I am not a fan of the standard new year’s resolution approach to life. Losing 10 pounds, exercising more often, drinking less wine might be good for you in general, but hinging your new year and your future happiness on a transitory goal, a number on a scale, or an activity ring closed is not the roadmap to real joy. We tend to set ourselves up for failure and then beat ourselves up until we get to the next year and repeat the process all over again. Never fear! There is an antidote to the madness, and it’s something you can do right where you are: meditation and mindfulness.
For the longest time, I considered myself more of a Lent person than an Advent person. The journey through the desert felt familiar, the three-prong practice of fasting, prayer and charity was concrete and easy to grasp. As I age, I find myself learning to love this season of waiting, a season plunged into physical darkness but centered on the Light of the World. The paradox of Advent is not limited to the play of darkness and light. We find it in the Scriptures, too, as we prepare for both the coming of the Savior swaddled in a manger and the coming of the Savior at the end of time. We find it as the world around us rushes to wrap presents and play Christmas music, even as we are called to step outside the fray and sink into silence and wait.