Did you start working on your New Year’s resolutions yet? Did you make those resolutions specific? Did you write them down? Did you set a time limit? Did you tell someone so that you would feel accountable?
I hate to be a Negative Nelly, but surveys have indicated that about 80% of you will abandon your resolutions – most of you by February. The reasons people give for quitting vary from a lack of discipline to unexpected life events. But the primary reason we fail to meet our goals – our expectations – is the nature of expectations themselves.
The past is a story remembered. The future is a story imagined. Neither past nor future is real. Reality is embodied in the present moment – or rather, in the flow of present moments that comprise our actual lives. You might be thinking, okay fine, but does that mean I have no power to change my current circumstances? Does that mean I have no choice or control over that flow of present moments?
I’ve dabbled in Buddhism for much of my adult life, becoming especially enamored with Zen and its no-nonsense acceptance of … well … everything. If you’re interested, I recommend two books to give you a rudimentary understanding of Zen: Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind by Shunryu Suzuki and The Way of Zen by Alan Watts.
To me, a Zen approach to life – or as I like to call it, a Late Bloomer’s approach to life – is about eating when you’re hungry, sleeping when you’re tired, and dancing when the mood strikes you. Blooming is an invitation to live without second-guessing everything you do or say. It’s not a license to be unkind or lack compassion. Rather, it’s a method of living by which we appreciate each moment as it passes, without overly pondering the ‘what ifs’ or the ‘if onlys.’
The big question with which I continue to struggle after more than 40 years of contemplating this Zen/Late Bloomer’s approach to life is this: can I live in and through my present moments and still make plans and set goals? The answer: yes and no.
Plans are part and parcel of a typical day. I wake, I pee, and … I make plans. The plans I make may be quite brief – ones that I immediately effectuate, such as ‘now I’ll make my bed’ or ‘now I’ll make coffee.’
But that’s a cop out. We’re talking about goals here, such as ‘my goal is to lose 10 pounds in one month.’ How does that kind of goal jive with a present-moment lifestyle?
It does if you approach the achievement of your goal as an aspiration – a target – like the way you might approach taking a prescribed antibiotic for a month to heal an infection. I notice a rash, which progressively grows. I consult my doctor, who prescribes a cream to be applied once per day for 30 days. Do I ignore my doctor because applying that cream is not spontaneous or present moment enough? Of course not, I make the application part of my daily routine, paying attention to the act and sensations of each application.
It’s your level of attachment to the outcome of your planning that matters here. What if, while applying my rash medicine, I miss a day for some reason. How should I react to that missed “goal”? A very Zen reaction would be to let go of any regrets or recriminations and to accept that chapter in my story about completing that plan.
I think distinguishing between goals and aspirations has value here, and I recommend retaining your aspirational activities and jettisoning your goal setting efforts. Aspirations and plans are inevitable as we navigate life. Goals are chocolate kisses that our ego holds up to tempt us to establish expectations that distract us from our lives and keeps us stressed and unfulfilled until those expectations are met. And remember, expectations are imaginary and seldom met as imagined. And even when we meet them, the pleasurable feeling of accomplishment is transitory and fades quickly.
For example, consider the most common categories of the New Year’s resolutions that American’s claim to make each year: money, weight loss, marriage, career, car, house, and travel. No question, each of those items can represent a beneficial component of a full life. However, none of us needs to have a particular status in any of those components to have a worthy, authentic, joyful life. We each weigh a certain weight right now. We each are either married or not, have a career or not, have a car or not, etc. Changing any of those components is fine and dandy. But if changing any of those components is required for us to better appreciate life, then something might be fundamentally wrong. I’m just saying.
What if we transition from a position of scarcity – of lacking the status that we believe achieving our goals will bring – to one of appreciation and a feeling of plenty? Change your perspective from setting goals to aspiring to live as healthy and joyful a life as possible and see if your sense of scarcity transforms into a sense of appreciation and wonder.
That, my friends, is how I lost 150 pounds and kept it off. Despite your whiplash, I didn’t just suddenly interject a self-help trope for dieters. I’m simply saying that changing my weight loss challenge from a measurement goal to a “blooming” aspiration helped me transform myself from a fat guy who needed to lose weight into a worthy chap taking care of himself and striving daily to live life fully.
During my most recent weight loss journey – the one that stuck – I made many of the same mistakes and confronted many of the same setbacks I had experienced in my previous diets. Unlike those previous attempts, however, I didn’t view my mistakes and setbacks as mistakes or setbacks. I viewed them as episodes in my unique story as it continually unfolded – not as failures to meet expectations, but rather as chapters in my ongoing tale of life. My daily experience became much less about white-knuckling and much more about calm observance.
Throughout my life-long struggle with compulsive overeating, my goals have always included a number on the scale. During my most recent transformation from obsessive goal setter to aspiring Late Bloomer, my new approach included reducing my dependence on measurements. Wouldn’t you know it, once I acknowledged my aspiration (eating and exercising in ways that would help me control and eliminate my obesity), I tossed my scale.
Spending any time considering how this moment might be “better” creates dissatisfaction, which your ego will seek to assuage, creating a vicious cycle of desire, indulgence, and disappointment. Live life not in pursuit of imagined circumstances, but rather enmeshed in the “stuff” of your life as it is right now. Aspire to change aspects of your life if you believe those changes might enhance your bloom – i.e., create more wellness, joy, and fulfillment. Plan your day, your week, your month, and even your year if you want. And revise those plans as necessary. But I encourage you to make one of your most precious aspirations to spend most of your moments living rather than planning.