I don’t make New Years Resolutions.
But I do have some idea what I should resolve for the next year.
I know that I should resolve to let myself speak up more with less editing. I know that it’s when I am actually speaking up that I say things that amaze and enlighten me, and things that sometimes even amaze and enlighten other people.
The answer to the question of what I should do is given by Jesus in the Gospel Of Thomas, one of the non-cannonical gnostic gospels:
If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you.
If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.
Bring it forth or be dumped on by the universe. Keep it in the background or be dumped on by the world. Ah, the dilemma of being human, especially a human whose nature lies beyond the pale in stigmaland, a land where religous fundamentalsts are sure that orginal sin is cast as incarnate in us.
So many messes to engage, the kind that throw rodablocks in most lives — money, DMV, IRS and so on — and so little energy to recuperate and to invigorate. Heck, even my sister told me a story about one of her staff in trouble with the DMV and then expected me to be a genial companion on New Years Eve. I had to be there even as I felt swamped and lost.
The lesson from my mother in the sky is simple: Follow your calling and I will be there for you. But the price of that feels too high, way too high.
I know what I should resolve: to sing the song my mother in the sky taught me, as Brian McNaught might say.
But my real resolution? Too thin, I fear, too thin.