How One Word Could Change Your Future

Photo Credit: Zeafonso

Less is more.
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Or haven’t you heard?
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On Tuesday I mentioned a revolutionary concept I stole from soon-to-be novelist Leigh Kramer (and I believe she first heard about it here). Instead of scribbling down ambitious resolutions for 2011, she chose to focus the new year on one word, one word that would lead to growth, to change.
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And it makes utter sense.
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Because, let’s face it, each January we pledge oaths to a dozen or so resolutions and then shrug them off as soon as the local grocery store advertises that semi-annual chocolate sale.
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We’re only human, after all.
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But those easily abandoned resolutions lead to a kind of self-loathing.
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The prick of failure is all too familiar.
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Which is why I’m focusing on words (I’m too greedy to choose only one word) this year, not resolutions.
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ONE: Risk.
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Looking back on 2011, I spent too much time worrying about risk. Should I quit my job to focus on writing? What will I do without that bi-monthly paycheck? How will this decision appear on my resume?
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And all that worrying for nothing.
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I may now be a bit unsettled, uncertain, and poor as dirt, but I’m free.
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I have no shackles to hold me down. My 2012 is wide open and populated with nothing but what ifs.
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Think about what this new year could hold if I consciously focused on risk. Makes my head swim.
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TWO: Commitment
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I’ll readily admit it (but only because it’s already so apparent in my life). I’m a commitment-phobe.
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In romantic relationships, most definitely. But I’m also talking all aspects of life.
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If you’re a friend, you’ve probably been offended [again and again] by my constant indecisiveness over invitations. It’s not that I don’t like you. Not at all. I love you. It’s just difficult to explain. Perhaps someday I’ll do us all a favor and consult a therapist on this, but until then, it’s just difficult to explain.
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And if you’re a close friend, you’ve most likely already slapped me and called me out on it all.
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My crippling fear of commitment is no joking matter. It gets in the way of relationships, spinning invisible webs, pushing in on my chest until I can hardly breathe. It guards against nothing, and in refusing invitations in fear of feeling tied down, I end up alone. And lonely.
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But no longer.
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This December, my 2012 will reflect differently than all the other years before.
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It will glisten of growth, of change, of wisdom.
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Because I’m committed to seeing this through.
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What’s your word for 2012?