One thing is for sure, I for one am tired of new year’s resolutions! This has generally been my theme for the past two, maybe three years. I mean, it’s definitely a more sober approach, because one to two weeks after going on and on about them, they would turn into a to-do list for the first two weeks of January. Zero longevity or long-term commitment. I blame age, it takes away the power of hope if you let it. If you think about it, perhaps it’s less age, more experiences in life, or less experiences, more realism.
This week I learnt about the Stockdale paradox. Colonel Stockdale was taken and held hostage together with other army personnel, he was the only person who made it out, after being rescued from enemy territory. Quizzed as to why that was, he said I always had dogged determination that one day we would make it out, I always knew it would happen.
When asked why he thought his fellow counterparts had suffered a more unfortunate fate, he said they always had hope that we would be rescued by a certain date, within a certain time period, by Christmas, by New years’, by Easter. And when those time periods came and went, they eventually died of a broken heart. What is now known as the Stockdale paradox is the delicate act of balancing realism and hope, a little bit of hope, a dash of realism, and maybe, just maybe, everything will all work out.
It’s a refreshing approach to life if you ask me, none of the complete and utter torture of making sure your life is replete and flooded with hope. Conversely, realism is a necessity in a capitalist world, I’m not talking pessimism, of course not, but sometimes one needs to take a cold hard look at reality and deal with their options.
Speaking of options, I’m always one to preach, if hard times hit inini hangu I will move to a one-roomed abode in Budiriro because that’s what I can afford. Lately, I’ve been asking myself if this is really true. Lifestyle adjustments are no mean feat. With the global recession, dwindling purchasing power, and skyrocketing costs of living, very few people have been spared from adjusting to living with certain luxuries. My childhood was a bit of a topsy-turvy, it wasn’t a rags-to-riches story, it was the complete opposite, I was born to a huge house and family cars, we weren’t rich, but we were comfortable. My father cultivated extracurricular activities and cultural appreciation and that’s when you know there is a bit of disposable income there, because who has time for science clubs and piano when you are dealing with bread-and-butter issues? And so it was until my father, God bless his soul, passed on and a huge dose of reality hit us in the face. I remember the speech of the head boy at a certain private school that went viral after he spoke of his own topsy-turvy, it echoed my own life. Realism and coping do not always come easily to all of us.
Sometimes, too much realism is a bad thing, because you wake up one day and tell yourself, I’ve never won at anything, I’ve always been a loser, I’ve never made money, I’ve never passed, I’ve never lost the weight and so what is the point of trying? Excessive realism robs you of the gift of trying. You drench yourself in despair because nowhere in your life, scratch that even your ancestors’ lives has anyone ever surpassed that mark. But guess what? I don’t care what BMW and that distasteful ad says, we ARE our ancestor’s wildest dreams and they stand upon mountain peaks smiling down at us. They could not be more proud.
I think there are two types of people really, there are people like the new me, to whom dates don’t really matter anymore. Then there are the ones who make obsessive lists, they buy note pads, make vision boards, buy new gym wear, stock the fridge with fruits and veggies and are so very ready to change their lives the moment the clock strikes twelve midnight. We can all agree gym owners make a lot of money in January. Charlotte types, at least that’s what I call them in my head, based on the Sex and the City character, Charlotte. One of my sweet friends, bless her heart, is DEFINITELY a Charlotte, and I don’t want to lie, it becomes her. Sometimes the Charlottes of this world are triumphant in their change, most times they aren’t because well, change is hard and old habits die hard, things do not magically change because the clock struck twelve.
I hope you go into the new year with whatever mix of hope and realism makes you succeed, and if resolutions are your thing, then more power to you. If there is one trait they will fault me for it’s probably going to be insane amounts of liberalism, and that’s because I truly believe that there is space for us all, hope, realism, or any extent or apparent lack thereof.
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