I got to the end of 2016 worn out, ragged around the edges. As I was picking myself up off the floor, I suddenly thought back to that 2016 word I'd chosen, that word I'd worn on a pendant for most of the year, and realized: hell, I did that to myself. Yes, 2016's word was Eleven, as in "these go to eleven." Which totally explained the feeling I had approaching the final days of the year, that I'd really spent myself in any number of directions, had a big year, gone ALL OUT.
Be careful what you wish for.
The truth is that although I'm a huge fan of expansion (see, as evidence, the blog I wrote for YEARS, The Force Expansive), there's such a thing as too much. There's such a thing, I learned last year, as over-extension.
It was all my choice, and I don't regret any of it (OK, there are two things I regret, but that's fodder for another day). I learned some big lessons and made some great, big necessary strides. And yet, faced with the choice, considering how I'd like to feel throughout 2017 and at the end of the year, I was totally done with Eleven. Done by Eleven.
And then a client of mine sent me the link to a podcast she'd listened to about money and abundance and the impact of changing the words we use. I listened and was struck by this statement so much that I stopped mid-stride and replayed.
Your Word Is Your Wand.
It turns out that is the title of a book of affirmations written in 1928 by Florence Scovel Shinn. 19-freakin'-28! The point, in the podcast interview I listened to, is something basic, something I needed to be reminded of: we make what happens to us. with. our. words.
I know, so woo-woo, right? But I feel its truth down to my core. Which is where that damn word of the year comes in. Because if I was feeling ragged on December 30, 2016, I know it's because I was at the tail end of a year of Eleven, pushing, stretching, going after it. And I needed something else.
How do you want to feel?
One thing I know for sure about 2017 is that I want to recommit to my glorious country mouse lifestyle. I love that so much and yet for long stretches of 2016, in the summer even, I felt like I was so busy growing my business that I didn't spend enough time outside, hands in the dirt, growing actual food. That may seem like no big thing to you, but for me, that's huge. I know this year I want to re-commit myself to all of that. And also: chickens. I want chickens.
But mostly what I want from this year is for it to feel Lovely, for me to really enjoy each moment, even the hard ones, knowing that I'm choosing, that I'm making my life as Lovely as possible. I don't want to defer happiness to another day, beyond another deadline or milestone.
Lovely. Today. Now.
That's going to translate into my schedule, into my work-load, into my client portfolio. It's a big deal.
Sayonara, Eleven. This year I'm waving the Lovely wand. Can't wait to see the good I make of this.