Seeking resolutions

The Friday writing group re-convened this morning. Some of us had also met for lunch on Monday, and scones on Thursday, all with the intention of feeding our minds and nurturing our creativity. Today, we faced a challenge to poeticise New Year hopes and resolutions, and reflected on the idea that January is not always the best of months for creating better habits.

In our house, the change of year, unusually, slipped by in sleep. I’d felt no motivation to send out invitations for midnight celebrations; there were none to accept or refuse. It was a quiet night in with no fireworks. We ate dinner and played Carcassonne at the kitchen table.  The following morning we awoke in a new year filled with fresh anticipation. There may be economic gloom but family growth forecasts are good; two new babies are expected in the spring.

There were no new resolutions for me this year, just the inevitable recycled determination to make my running shoes work harder than they managed last year. A quick calculation tells me that the 365 days to train for that deferred 10 mile run are currently down to 277. It’s still a possibility. It’s not only health and stamina holding me back. It’s the loss of habit and routine.  I miss the buzz of the endorphins.

We talked this morning about our writing habits and routines, and how we use our notebooks. Most of us confessed we’d lost our motivation. I rummaged through my bag and found another resolution. I know that I don’t thrive in creative chaos. I need to tidy out my bag, clear my head of rubbish; make a plan, create a list, enjoy the thrill of ticking off the tasks.

Watch this space, this granny is seeking new adventures.