Resolute

On the occasion of the New Year, I have been thinking about the tradition of reflection and resolution that some follow at this time. Other cultures have similar traditions although not necessarily tied to the end of one year and the beginning of the next. It seems we humans are attracted to the idea of a new beginning—an opportunity to wipe the slate clean and commit ourselves to a fresh and improved life. Social scientists and psychologists tell us that the majority of resolutions made at this time will not succeed, however, and there appear to be a few reasons for such failure.

There is after all nothing special about an arbitrary date when the calendar marks a change—nothing within us prompting the need to alter our course. The new year seems a pretty flimsy justification for amending some behavior that we have indulged –typically over a long period of time. Lacking external reinforcement, there is nothing except a promise we make to ourselves to keep us on track. As you might expect, the rate of recidivism is very high.

Then there is the question of what we resolve to change—often something significant and often something about ourselves that we do not like or which we fear may be unhealthy--even overtly harmful. Instead of choosing a realistic—smaller first step, some of us resolve to stop or start all at once, and that is daunting. Because the thing we wish to change is difficult there are endless obstacles in our path, most self-imposed. Current thinking suggests that it takes more than a few weeks to establish a new pattern of behavior. Old habits are, after all, habitual.

Finally, we come to the crux of the matter—the cause and effect of change. To say that change is hard is more than an aphorism. There are two schools of thought about effecting change, one that views pain or discomfort as the primary source of motivation, the other is focused on reward. Whether you subscribe to one or the other—the stakes, it would appear—need to be high if we are to achieve any degree of success.

The word resolution itself carries multiple meanings which recognize the hesitant nature of human commitment to change. In most of its meanings, resolution is an expression of intent—rather than a completed action. In fact, the various english words derived from the common root offer us some insight into our ambivalence. Even with great resolve we must remain resolute to achieve our resolutions. It’s almost as if the tentative nature of human will is embodied in the words we use to describe the process of amending our behavior.

Which brings us to the question of will. We recognize that the human will is potentially quite powerful—in fact we conjunct it into a word that says as much—willpower. But what exactly is willpower? What is that force that that makes us resolute, even in the face of great adversity? It is more than persistence, although we need to remain intent on our objectives if we are to overcome the obstacles. For me, the will is more than a motivating force, it is a power that lifts us above our human limitations. Some might regard it as a divine force, that must be summoned. Clearly it is not something that is simply innate in everyone or in anyone all of the time.

In a child’s story I read many years ago, a young acolyte is studying to become a man of spirit. He admires an elder widely regarded as the greatest of his order. Encountering him one day on a staircase the young man timidly asks what he must do to become great himself. After a lengthy pause, the elder replies that the young man should precisely line up his shoes under his bed, that night and every night that followed. No other explanation was offered.

The young man departed, confused and not a little annoyed at what he regarded as a flippant response to his earnest if simplistic inquiry. The reader is left with a few questions as well—but the moral, if you will, is that wisdom—strength—all the virtuous attributes of greatness proceed from one’s mastery of the will. And how does one begin to master this elusive power? By starting with a simple commitment—to take the time every day—day after day for the reminder of your life—to do something which is neither rewarding, nor overly difficult but easily dismissed.

It seems almost too easy –and therein lies a great secret. The will must be trained—so that even in the case of the simplest of tasks, it can be relied upon to sustain us. If we cannot do this easiest of things than prevailing in the most difficult will be impossible.

I share this with you to do with as you wish—resolutions notwithstanding. This year, if you choose to make yourself a promise you might remember the story of the acolyte. Line up your shoes—this night and each that follows.