I do not have a new year resolution to share. In fact, I have no resolutions at all!

If we are alive and reasonably healthy, the years coming and going do not really matter.  We tend to treat life like a sealed exam; time is up, answers written, no revisions allowed. But life behaves far more like a draft that keeps reopening itself, quietly inviting edits long after the deadline should have passed.

We can fumble January and still steady ourselves by March. We can misunderstand an entire year or sometimes a decade and still pivot on any unremarkable day. Time is more generous than our inner critic would have us believe.

The real danger is not getting things wrong, it is assuming that the last mistake was the final one.

Most of life is revision. It is messy, erratic and humbling. The new year does not demand perfection or dramatic reinvention. It only asks that we do not declare the story over while we are still very much writing it.