Um, not that guilty. Not guilty enough to set any.
I mean, I'm constantly evaluating myself and trying to do better. Maybe too much. And then I decided, maybe goals are overrated. Maybe I spend too much of my time looking forward, wishing, wanting, dissatisfied with myself and others, and not enough time savoring the moment.
|Beautiful Mt. Timpanogos. My favorite.|
Maybe that's what I haven't been doing in my life.
Maybe I need to do what my neighbor does: wake up every morning, see the sun or the rain or the snow, and say, I am alive, and that's a gift. And just enjoy whatever the Universe dumps in my lap. Even when it looks like pig poo. Er, perhaps I don't have to be grateful for the pig poo.
I did happen to finish my book this year. But not because I set a goal to do it. I finished because I was doing something I love every day.
I want to find joy. I don't think a list of goals is going to get me there. It's here, now, all around, if I take the time to stop and see it. Rest. Relax. Quit setting so many goals. Learn to love the path as much as the peak.
Ok, that's sounding suspiciously like a goal. So stop it already. Savor, savor.