Why it takes more than New Year’s to change
January’s magnum opus is its seeming ability to craft change in our lives. It is the month, after all, that brings us New Year’s and all of the resolutions that come with it.
More importantly, for students and faculty, January brings the spring semester. It is almost what you would call a clean slate because in many ways it washes away numerous mistakes we made in the fall semester.
Unfortunately, despite the several changes January brings, a winter month is never complete without storm clouds. In this case, the storm cloud, the vexing issue, is this—anxiety.
During any kind of change- whether it’s from month to month, season to season, or semester to semester—one of the consistent remnants is the nearly constant high levels of anxiety we become so acclimated to.
This anxiety can be brought on by time crunches, and upon brainstorming remedies, from which we frequently come to the conclusion that we must manage our time more wisely, we might stop and ask ourselves, “would there really be any change in anything?”
It might be guessed that one’s reply to this question, regardless of the context of the situation, is almost always one’s answer. (More on this later.)
A well-known technique for reducing anxiety is to imagine you are at the ocean. So imagine you are there in the summer last year, before fall semester and all of the anxiety started. You are there during a calm night, facing the ocean. As the moon creates the ocean tides, waves form in the deep water.
Governed underneath the deep waters, trillions of grains of sand lay. The waves move from the deep waters to the shallow water before you.
Between you and the waves is beach sand, at which the waves wash onto and grasp at the grains continuously, only to obtain few.
Now imagine you are at a nearby lake in the present date. It is windy and high noon.
The lake was frozen for much of the fall semester, but now is beginning to thaw. On the ice, you cannot see your reflection until the ice cracks through and the surface breaks to reveal your reflection.
Now back to the question: If you were to contemplate changing something for this semester—whether it be your schedule, demeanor, productivity, or something else—would there really be any change in anything?
Again, it might be surmised that one’s reply to this question, regardless of the context of the situation, is almost always one’s answer.
Desiring change will likely lead to a higher chance of creating change. Just as deep waters govern over many sands, deep commitments will lead to many benefits.
Likewise, shallow commitments will lead to you grasping vainly at change just like shallow waves grasp vainly for sand.
And during the change, it will be hard to notice the process, but you will notice it afterward. Just like you can see your reflection before and after the freezing of lake, but not during.
Who is to say what is impossible? Any combination of words we can make or say, in the wake of waves, will wash away. Everything that means anything regarding this question is what you believe.
