Intentions or Resolutions?

We are now several days after most people have made...and many broken...their New Year's Resolutions.  I have been very intentional about not making New Year's Resolutions for many years because of the meaning that intention has for me.  Yet, each year at this time, I do soul-searching about that decision. I was in the final pages of proofing The Game Called Life, a book about living with intention, when the New Year turned over, so the internal debate took on new meaning.

First, I should probably clarify what living with intention means to me.  I believe that our souls chose certain spiritual lessons to learn in this life before we are conceived.  Those spiritual lessons are as much a part of our spiritual DNA as the color of our eyes or skin is to our biological DNA. Although we may not be consciously aware, we know in our hearts what those lessons are. 

When I speak of living with intention, I mean that each of us tunes in and listens to our hearts in a moment-by-moment choice point about what to do.  This process must bypass our brains which are programmed by the culture around us.  Our hearts will never ask for a Mercedes, for instance; those kind of wishes are based on externally-driven mental models.  The heart is about learning the lessons that are the purpose of our lives--those that serve the evolution of humankind. 

By definition, we should be checking in moment-by-moment to ask our hearts what will serve our heart's intentions or what will serve the evolution of humankind.  In that context, January 1 is no different than 5:20 p.m. on September 6, 4:28 a.m. on March 10, or any other moment on any other day of the year.  We are starting over every second.  For that reason, I have been intentional about not making New Year's Resolutions because, when I am being conscious, being intentional about a new start should be something I do hundreds of times every day.  If I fail, I don't wait to January for a new start, I just wait for the next breath.

I am aware that if we write down resolutions (or probably intentions), we dramatically improve the chances that we will keep them.  If we tell someone, we increase our success rate even more, and if we enlist someone to support us in keeping our pledges, odds of achievement are even greater.  That all leaves me pondering, "Shouldn't I be able to live my intentions from a place of consciousness and spiritual commitment?"  Theoretically, I suppose that should be the case.

Yet, over and over again, I slip from my heart's intentions, and, over and over again, I climb back up and refocus.  I tune in and start over.  This year, I have been wondering if I could reduce the amount of slip and slide, if I wrote my intentions down, shared them with someone(s,) and enlisted their help in holding me accountable.

One of the challenges of living with intention instead of setting goals or making resolutions is the complexity involved in tuning in to the heart.  Instead of three or four resolutions, there are literally thousands of combinations in any moment.  Only the heart understands what is the most important one at any given time.  Without the spiritual True North of our hearts, all the conflicting goals are simply a jumble of "shoulds." 

With all that said, I sit here at this moment, knowing that my heart wants me to be more regular about writing, my heart has the intention of creating health which involves exercise, and it also wants me to be more responsible about maintaining relationships.  At least two people are waiting to talk with me and I would like to talk with a third.  Even as all those intentions compete for these few minutes on a Sunday afternoon, I am really tired.  Chronic pain has exhausted me.  I can hardly hold my eyes open.  As I take a deep breath and exhale, while asking for guidance, the answer about what I am to do is clear. 

My mind struggles with how to get that kind of clarity from mental model resolutions, even if they deal with the same activities. Asking for help is key to living with intention.  Even though I've usually written about asking for help with our soul's intentions in the context of asking God for help,  this year I will enlist a couple close friends to help me with some intentions with which I've struggled. (Can we ever have too much help?) I don't know how this will work, but I hope that just having someone who reminds me to be conscious and to ask for help will be what I need.

Remembering to Pray

When I finish this blog at the end of most days and then head to bed, I find I often have an Aha! moment.  So it was last night, as the night before.  As I was writing my gratitude list--things that I have to be grateful for at the end of each day--there were two things for which I was most thankful.  First, I was grateful for having spoken truth to power.  Almost as I had that thought, I remembered early in the day I had prayed for courage to do so, and then I had promptly forgotten about the prayer.  I am sure it was why I finally said what I should have said a year ago.

As I reflected about this little miracle (or maybe not so little,) I "got" on a deeper level than before about prayers being answered.  I tend to pray gratitude and for guidance.  I rarely pray for help.  Now, I know that just by simply asking in the morning, and then "letting it go," made a huge difference to me. 

Why then have I rarely asked for help? It is a good question. Maybe it feels selfish to ask for something for me.  Perhaps, as the author of a book on courage, I think I should be able to muster my own courage without help.  The truth is that I don't think I am very good about asking for help in anything from anyone--human or divine. 

I could blame my reticence on events of my childhood that made me fiercely independent, since asking for help just doesn't seem very independent.  I might say that all those years of education trained me to take care of myself. Even that my generation of women thought they had to be superwomen to claim our place in the work world. However, I think more likely is that I am terrified that if I surrendered even a chink in my armor of independence that I might just not exist.

Many years ago I heard an essay which proposed that the four most powerful words in any language were, "I need your help."  At all of 5'1" tall, I often find myself looking for tall shoppers in the grocery store to reach items on top shelves that are far higher than my fingers can stretch.  Over the years when I've needed assistance, I find people are often genuinely happy to help. I asked a friend to pick me up after a recent surgery because the surgery center wouldn't let me leave on my own.  How silly!  My friend was happy to help and good enough to tuck me in before I drifted back to sleep. Asking for help out of anything except sheer necessity has mostly been absent in my life. Why? I have no idea.

Dear God, I do need your help: I need your help remembering to pray.  I need your help to just allow myself to collapse in the warmth of your love and to know that you will be there with me and for me.
Always!