As I embark on yet another journey through the 365 odd days of 2009, I’m taking it easy on my usual grandiose list of NY resolutions which I’m known to make.
All I need this year is to come up with a solid plan for myself, know it, believe in it and stick to it no matter what.
2008 seemed like a never-end year of ups and downs for me not necessarily because I planned to fail, I simply failed to plan – for anything, I mean anything, at all. It’s actually a miracle that I made it through the year holding on to anything.
Therefore, if I start this year with a plan, I am convinced that anything is possible under the sun… as long as I prepare in advance and work towards my goals, little by little, one day at a time.
And on that note, allow me to share with you all an old well-known poem, which I personally think we can all relate to especially as we plan and prepare for the rest of 2009:
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream–and not make dreams your master,
If you can think–and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings–nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And–which is more–you’ll be a Man, my son!
Happy New Year to one and all!