The New Year has been around only a week and daily I feel this urge to tackle my goals with full force. The restraint of the go slowly approach is working, I can sense it, yet my old self wants high speed and crash.
That latter method means I can try with one big push and then give up. The attempt will offer a rush of excitement and then the familiar I-told-you-so failure. I want it like a crash diet ending in a pile of sweets.
Instead, I am quietly working behind the scenes. Working towards the more day-to-day goals with a first check-in with myself next week. The desire to skip the stretches, the prep work, the introductory phase and jump to some middle place is powerful. We all know where we end when we don't stretch thoroughly before a run or carefully read the directions before making something.
It's the initial disappointment over devoting fifteen minutes a day to a project, thinking that you will never accomplish anything at that rate, until weeks later you find yourself astonished at how a little bit daily has actually added up to something meaningful without your even noticing.
At this not-too-much-at-a-time pace I can truly observe subtle, unexpected happenings from an aerial view. A phone call from a friend not on my list I weave in like a loose thread; a date chosen for a niece's wedding months from now means September is already filling up. On New Year's Day we talked about upcoming holidays and school vacations without my cutting off the conversation. Having already walked myself through the year in my mind, heart and body, I was far less anxious.
I'm on a long road trip with plenty of treats, books, and music to keep me occupied. I can't even dare ask if we're there yet. I need to sit back and enjoy the view from the window.