Photo taken yesterday to remind myself that sometimes what I do is going to be complete shit. (By the way, neighbors, is it too much to ask that you clean up after your dogs?)
Many of us start the new year ambitiously with big hopes and plans and then the strong forces of inertia set in and we find ourselves back where we started. We fail a little and are unable to cope with the loss of the perfection of our dream, so we double down on the failure and give up entirely. Others of us don't see the point in making resolutions or setting goals citing futility because "these things never work."
The question I have is what does it mean for something to "work"? What makes something worth doing? Does it have to be perfect? Aren't our lives just a big jumble of failures and successes creating a singular fabric with its own integrity? Sometimes the failures turn into something beautiful and sometimes they are just a humiliating oof face forward into the turf of life, but they abide, and life must go on.
This year I choose to fail and be at peace with it. My dreams are worth it.
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