With the new year beginning and the solstice signaling the return of longer days, even the most devout shunner of resolutions can feel a bit of the pull of renewal. Throw a holiday illness into that mix, and one finds a perfect storm of beginning again.
This week, I open a play. It’s Shakespeare, something I haven’t done for ten years. I will expound upon my love of the Bard of Avon later, but suffice to say, it’s been fantastically fun. Except when I’ve been worried all week about the impact of my lingering illness and raw sore throat on my performance. Thankfully, I seem to be on the mend, just in the nick of time.
Last week, I spent most of my time on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, with a cup of honeyed tea, and either my work laptop or an episode of Midsomer Murders keeping me company. I had started a calisthenics routine after Christmas, but found that cut short. So with a new year, a schedule newly free of rehearsals, and new health, I plan to take on some new exercise. Perhaps jogging on the weekends, and calisthenics in the mornings. Something to get the blood pumping and tone my muscles for aerials.
In the past, I’ve been a New Year’s dieter and exerciser. One year, I actually began my training for a marathon race with a 5k run on New Year’s Day. Other years, I’ve gone through some sort of elimination or detox. Now that I’m older, wiser, and less willing to give up life’s pleasures, I’m less likely to adhere to any sort of detox. Perhaps I shall try an electronic detox to get myself reading some of the books that have backed up. But it will be done with scone in hand, in moderation.
And really, rather than overhauling, I’ve learned instead to refine. Rather than throwing out my wardrobe and revamping it, instead I figure out how to put together what I have in new ways and buy only to fill the gaps. I’ve come to accept myself rather than wanting to change it. And that is the best kind of renewal for a new year: the renewal of one’s ingrained sense of self.