On New Year's Resolutions and the Soul of 9

I've always loved the new year and its promise of a fresh start. Ironically though, I've been making the same resolutions for the better of 20 years now. Eat more vegetables. Watch less TV and read more books. Get more exercise and more sleep. Write more and submit my work for publication. 

I'd outline grand and precise plans in these areas, all designed to help me succeed. And then, when I'd get the slightest bit off track, I'd cast that goal aside and move on to something I could accomplish. Like watching every episode of House Hunters and What Not to Wear or walking to get a vanilla soft-serve cone with rainbow sprinkles on top for dinner.

I'm not lazy--nor am I a slacker. But I've always had trouble sticking with things. Even things that I enjoy. Turns out, it's my Soul of 9 that's holding me back.

Let me back up a bit: A few weeks ago, my kundalini yoga teacher was talking about the 10 bodies--a way of understanding and restoring balance in your life. Tantric numerology offers a window into our own bodies. Ever the curious one, I went online, entered my birthdate, and out popped my tantric reading.

My soul number--which identifies what's at the core of my consciousness--is a 9. It says that I'm very hard on myself (yep) and that I have a tendency to give up on things after a short period of time rather than sticking with them and mastering them (yep). It goes on to explain that, "without mastery, life is a mystery" to me and that "my joy in life will come from mastering things." On the one hand, I feel like this is just generic enough to apply to most all of us; but I have enough experiential evidence to know that my internal critic is snarkier than most.

So, how can I overcome this? The numerology report recommended a 1,000-day meditation. Just seeing the words "1,000 day" made me want to reach for the remote and flip on HGTV. But the perfectionist in me isn't willing to give up quite that easily this time.

After years and years of resolving to do all of these lofty and ambitious things and only making marginal success, I've decided to change my approach. In the spirit of Christine Kane's Resolution Revolution, my goal for 2010 is simply to finish.

Finish. That's it. Just one word. The goal being to infuse anything and everything that I aspire to with this intention. Those unread and partly read books on my shelves? Finish. My to-be-written essay ideas? Finish. My desire to eat vegan for two meals each day? Finish. My plans to run a 5k? Finish. You get the picture.

With just one word to aspire to, there's no room for drama, backstory, or excuses. Just do it.

"Don't fear the long road."                                                                                              --Michael Franti, Never Too Late

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2010 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because less is more--especially when it comes to setting a clear New Year's resolution. (Photo by Flowery L*u*z*a* via Creative Commons.)

All the Details

It has been a week of simple pleasures--the type of things that, all too often, I take for granted. Such as . . .

• Marveling at the clean blanket(s) of snow
• Accompanying Inky on his Caring Canines visit
• Buying holiday presents for a child whom I've never meet
• Enjoying the glow of my beautiful Christmas tree
• Cozying up on the couch with a loved one (pups nearby)
• Making breakfast for dinner (accompanied by a glass of malbec)
• Devouring my homemade calzone (even better the next day)
• Rearranging my end tables
• Adding 2010 plans to my cute new agenda book
• Accomplishing a big professional goal at work
• Fortifying myself with fresh-squeezed orange juice
• Savoring a bowl of tomato soup with parmesan croutons on a cold winter's night
• Receiving my first holiday card of the season
• Discovering a new (to me) musical group: the Vitamin String Quartet
• Making yoga + brunch plans with a good friend
• Attending my first kundalini yoga class with the gong
• Staying healthy (knock on wood and take my vitamins)
• Laughing together (oh, hello ab muscles)

How about you? What are some of the little pleasures that you've been taking for granted?

"The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life."                                                                                                                     --William Morris

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because everyday things can be pretty special, too.

Even Vegetarians Crave Meat Sometimes

I once dated a guy who would talk with his roommates--in longing, graphic detail--about Thanksgiving dinner. About the crispy, crinkly turkey skin; the juicy meat; the flecks of sausage in the stuffing; the pan drippings for the gravy. Together they ooohed and aaahed over this fleshy feat.

"So, why not just eat it?" I asked, quite matter of factly.

"Oh no. We could never," they responded in unison.

That was my introduction to the world of not eating meat for ethical reasons. It had never occurred to me, really,  that vegetarianism was more than just a band of people who didn't like their mother's pork chops and swedish meatballs. Giving up meat a couple of years ago was not a great sacrifice for me. I just never got excited over a nicely-marbled filet or a roasted chicken like others do. Soon after though, I began thinking about what it meant to not eat meat.

Perhaps it was all those years of staring into my pets' eyes; the proliferation of words like "grass fed," "hormone-free," and "free range" in the grocery store; reading The Omnivore's Dilemma; or some combination thereof. But the idea of eating a once-living creature just didn't make sense to me--not when there were so many other food options available.

I hate it. It's just not an industry that I can support. I am grateful to know that there are an increasing number of farmers who are taking care to raise their livestock humanely--and the more people who support this kind of farming, the less profitable the factory farms will be. At the end of the day though, the outcome is the same: chili con carne and buffalo wings, lemon chicken and BLTs.

With Thanksgiving just a few days away, I too have been thinking about how much I would enjoy a juicy slice of turkey with some stuffing on the side and a drizzle of gravy across both. More so than the taste, I think it's the ritual and tradition that I'm craving most.

Early on in my yoga teacher training journey, I read a book called If the Buddha Came to Dinner. Essentially, it said that food that has been lovingly prepared--no matter what it is--is a gift, and that if somebody grilled the Buddha a steak, he'd eat every last bite and say thank you. Meat should not ever go to waste.

Does that make him any less of a vegetarian? Is it possible to still practice ahimsa and enjoy a traditional Thanksgiving dinner? Or a bacon cheeseburger for that matter. Oh, how I long for a bacon cheeseburger . . .

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Just because less is more is my philosophy on eating meat, doesn't mean it needs to be so for you.

Travel Utensils: Not Just for Weirdos

While in college, I briefly dated this guy who carried his own set of chopsticks. I can still remember diving into our take-out containers, my girlfriends and I all watching as he unceremoniously removed those glossy red sticks from his messenger bag. The most outspoken of the bunch asked him why, point blank, did he carry his own chopsticks. The tone of her inquiry rang out weirdo alert, weirdo alert. Admittedly, I agreed. (Forgive me; it was the mid-1990s and I was just a wee twentysomething.) "Because I never know when I'll need them," he replied in earnest.

Fast-forward a dozen-plus years . . . to today. I'm sitting in the Upper Crust, taking a little time out of my busy day to keep the staycacation vibe going by treating myself to lunch outside of the office. (I had a buy one slice, get one free coupon, so this was a budget friendly splurge. Plus, a girl needs to eat.) I had forgotten how big and floppy their by-the-slice pizza could be. The type of pie where you're wise to fork-and-knife it at least halfway up. Especially when you're wearing a white jacket and a light-colored blouse.

Reluctantly, I picked up a plastic fork and knife along with my paper napkins. And because I was really thirsty--and forgot my water bottle back at the office--I poured myself some water in a plastic cup. Other than wishing I hadn't forgotten my water bottle, my first thought was, I sure wish I had some travel utensils so I didn't have to rely on the disposable stuff.

Pot? Kettle? Yes, indeed.

Truth be told, my handbag is heavy enough without adding a fork, knife, and spoon to the mix. But it just seems so wasteful to pitch the plastic. Perhaps if it were recyclable, I'd feel a little bit better. Fortunately, I'm not often faced with a need for plastic utensils. I have my own set of stainless at work (along with my mug, plate, and bowl). But for those rare occasions, I think this would be a pretty easy switch. It's the type of thing I could even just stash in the glove compartment. I'm much more likely to use a fork than I am that tire pressure gauge.

A few days ago, Simple Savvy posted a cool tutorial on how to make your own utensil set. How neat, I thought--until I saw how much sewing was involved. But there's nothing keeping me from rolling a fork, knife, and spoon in a cloth napkin, tying it up, and carrying it with me next time I find myself faced with a big, floppy slice of pie.

N.B. I brought the plastic utensils home for washing and reuse, and the cup for recycling; only used three paper napkins; and managed not to get a drop on my clothes. Go me.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because less really is more.