Blog
January 14th 2010
Auld lang syne
The new year is here - and with it, all the resolutions that add something of hope and depression to the winter season.
It’s relatively easy to understand the big to-do about new year’s celebrations: the previous year passes (in the form of an old man holding a huge clock that continually ticks away the moments of our lives) and the new year arrives (in the guise of a neonatal baby wearing a jaunty sash, bathing in confetti). The new year represents all the hope of the new beginning a fresh year promises.
As a child, I remember staying up the extra four marathon hours to witness the new year moment, watching Dick Clark (who never seemed to age) count down the seconds on the Rockin’ Eve clock. I remember how excited I was to witness that moment, to feel that new beginning actually begin.
And then I remember the unbelievable letdown of it all, because it actually wasn’t any different than last year (i.e. seconds ago). The new beginning wasn’t a palpable reality to my six-year-old imagination. But there was - and still is - some craving for it, some desire for a deep, metaphoric shift in perspective.
Just a couple years ago, a friend of mine told me his thoughts on new year’s resolutions. Instead of vowing to change something about himself that he didn’t like - as diet centres and fitness gyms anxiously hold their breath over - he decided to start doing something entirely new. For instance, learn how to ride a horse or read Proust’s In Search of Lost Time. The difference, he said, was not internalizing dislike for himself; rather, choosing to experience something new.
I suppose each new year is the marking of the passage of time, just like birthdays or seasons. But watching the calendar and the clock doesn’t necessarily tell us when the actual moment of transition is. After all, between the baby and the old man there are quite a few moments to be had.
Me, I’ve chosen to quit smoking and start running this year. If that doesn’t work out, there’s always Proust…
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