Resolutions are a tricky thing. They make us declare to be our best selves, which really isn’t our true selves. The true self is that selfish, greedy, gluttony guy at the back of the building heckling at the righteous guy in front reciting a manifesto. You silence him by ignoring his tirade or you show him how to behave by demonstrating a superior moral authority.
Or you make a Resolution.
Stripped of the noise, a resolution is really just a speech, a tacit invitation extended to the heckler to show why his way is better, why that extra helping, that extravagance, that extra-marital dalliance is a great idea. And be sure that he will. Stories abound about how the closer a wedding is, the increase in the number of temptations. A friend tells me he had never seen as many beautiful women as when he fixed a date for his wedding. Suddenly, the beer seems brewed in your name, and it would be rude to refuse.
No sooner had the president resolved to quash Boko Haram than the next headline proclaimed a heavy loss.
The easy way would be to stop making these promises one has no clear idea how to go about fulfilling. What changes, what gives man the illusion something can be altered? The man is same, the neighbour just as pretty, and the pounded yam just as starchy. Why then does he believe a statement, screamed or whispered, changes anything? I am thinking it is a way to cope with the flux of consciousness that is life— things move so fast, one way of holding on to an illusion of control is to effect a schedule of accomplishments. The 365 days would pass whether one is active or sedentary, but man puts up a calendar, marks days, sets goals and all is well with the world.
That is one way of looking at it. The other is via history. Christians may not be too impressed to learn that the self-improvement ritual at the start of the year can be traced to ancient Babylon, where the people made pledges to, among other things, pay up debts. It would seem pagans beat Christians to many practices. So maybe resolutions are an acknowledgment of something greater and a way to align our conduct to fit its prescriptions.
But who cares so long as resolutions help us to be better? Not so fast, it turns out. A majority of people fail at keeping these resolutions: one study puts the figure above 80 percent. Ridiculously high, it doesn’t bode well for anyone. What to do than to drink one more beer, and invite the pretty neighbour for a drink.
You were probably going to fail anyway.
Then again, in 2014, maybe a different track can be followed. Rather than give up, switch up. Rather than saying a reduction of beer bottles per week, why not try a different brand, eh? Try a low tar cigarette instead, wave to the neighbour, stop semovita and move up to pounded yam, instead of football, follow tennis. Give up twitter and log on to Linkedin, halt television binging and turn on the radio, stop sloth and start sleeping.
Chances are you'd outgrow major vices and their variations by the year’s end, rendering doomed-to-fail-resolutions needless by 2015.
Your mileage may vary. So, if unsuccessful repeat as directed.
Of course, you can thank me later. Or better still, send a six-pack over.
Or you make a Resolution.
Stripped of the noise, a resolution is really just a speech, a tacit invitation extended to the heckler to show why his way is better, why that extra helping, that extravagance, that extra-marital dalliance is a great idea. And be sure that he will. Stories abound about how the closer a wedding is, the increase in the number of temptations. A friend tells me he had never seen as many beautiful women as when he fixed a date for his wedding. Suddenly, the beer seems brewed in your name, and it would be rude to refuse.
No sooner had the president resolved to quash Boko Haram than the next headline proclaimed a heavy loss.
The easy way would be to stop making these promises one has no clear idea how to go about fulfilling. What changes, what gives man the illusion something can be altered? The man is same, the neighbour just as pretty, and the pounded yam just as starchy. Why then does he believe a statement, screamed or whispered, changes anything? I am thinking it is a way to cope with the flux of consciousness that is life— things move so fast, one way of holding on to an illusion of control is to effect a schedule of accomplishments. The 365 days would pass whether one is active or sedentary, but man puts up a calendar, marks days, sets goals and all is well with the world.
That is one way of looking at it. The other is via history. Christians may not be too impressed to learn that the self-improvement ritual at the start of the year can be traced to ancient Babylon, where the people made pledges to, among other things, pay up debts. It would seem pagans beat Christians to many practices. So maybe resolutions are an acknowledgment of something greater and a way to align our conduct to fit its prescriptions.
But who cares so long as resolutions help us to be better? Not so fast, it turns out. A majority of people fail at keeping these resolutions: one study puts the figure above 80 percent. Ridiculously high, it doesn’t bode well for anyone. What to do than to drink one more beer, and invite the pretty neighbour for a drink.
You were probably going to fail anyway.
Then again, in 2014, maybe a different track can be followed. Rather than give up, switch up. Rather than saying a reduction of beer bottles per week, why not try a different brand, eh? Try a low tar cigarette instead, wave to the neighbour, stop semovita and move up to pounded yam, instead of football, follow tennis. Give up twitter and log on to Linkedin, halt television binging and turn on the radio, stop sloth and start sleeping.
Chances are you'd outgrow major vices and their variations by the year’s end, rendering doomed-to-fail-resolutions needless by 2015.
Your mileage may vary. So, if unsuccessful repeat as directed.
Of course, you can thank me later. Or better still, send a six-pack over.
By Oris Aigbokhaevbolo
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