Here we are, well into January of the new year, and I continue to mull over the strong resistance I feel toward the idea of making resolutions. I noticed a little before the new year, as my yoga and wellness-oriented friends were naming intentions (different, of course, from resolutions), that the same resistance arose in me. Where is that coming from, I wondered? I tried to intellectualize it, as I am wont to do, and when that did not yield any usable information, I asked myself, “Can you name the feeling that comes up when you consider making a resolution or setting an intention?”
That feeling, my friends, is anxiety. I do not feel in any way comforted or inspired or purposeful when setting intentions, though I have no doubt other people feel these things (otherwise why do it?). But I feel anxious. With this realization, I had something new to sit with — rather than an obstinate, “I don’t like setting intentions so I’m not going to do it” attitude, I had questions. Wonderings. From where is the anxiety stemming? If resolutions and intentions are meant to provide purpose and inspiration, what approach would cultivate those same resources within me?
As it turns out, I’ve been steadily practicing something for a couple of years now that yielded for me exactly what I sought. I haven’t been setting intentions, but instead I’ve been asking myself what it is that sparks curiosity. Curiosity feels different in my mind and in my body than does intention or resolution.
I realized that, to me, resolutions and intentions both feel outcome-oriented. Resolutions are, to my mind, literally resolving to achieve some outcome, or to behave in a particular way that would result in said outcome. Intentions do feel softer, more like I’m aiming at something but with a lot of flexibility in how I get there. Yet still, intentions feel outcome-oriented. As a recovering perfectionist, I think I’m particularly sensitive to approaches that attach me to an outcome. The anxiety I experience when considering intentions and resolutions feels like the anxiety that arises when perfectionism takes over. It creates in me a sense of rigidity and instills a deep fear of failure and of disappointing others (or myself, I suppose). It’s not a great feeling, and it also doesn’t yield my best ideas and actions.
Curiosity, on the other hand, allows me to relinquish rigidity and fear, because it is not focused on an outcome, but on a subject. It sparks a sense of wonder and inspires me to move, purposefully and with direction, toward something that matters to me. Curiosity provides space to take in new information and integrate that information without threatening my outcome, because outcomes are held loosely, subject to re-imagining based upon my discoveries.
I believe that intentions and resolutions are fruitful for many folks, but you’re unlikely to hear me invite you to set an intention these days. Instead, I’ll invite you as I invite myself to ask, “What makes me curious right now?”
One thing that continues to pique my curiosity is the way in which different approaches yield similar outcomes in different people. My wish is that we can all continuously question our attachments to specific ways of doing and being, and instead leave room for wonder, for learning and integrating new information, for differing lived experiences, and for the inevitability of change.