I may have mentioned at some point in time during my ramblings that when a person reaches my age he has about 10,000 days left in his average life expectancy. I started thinking about that a couple of years ago, so to be sure I may be closer to the 9,000 mark today. But, the exact days are somewhat irrelevant. After all, the count was not based on my reality, but rather on all sorts of general statistics.
As a slight aside, statistics have always bothered me to some degree. I fell in love with the math involved in calculating psychological statistics and determining cohorts and the like when I was in graduate school working on the last psychology degree. The math was intriguing. The reality was disturbing. You see, after enjoying the impersonal nature of statistics the clinical side of the work that presented itself once I finally finished the thesis, the dissertation, the challenges, and had the “it’s okay to give your opinion” paper framed I learned from experience that the only statistic that matters is the one that applies to a specific individual.
For example, one disturbing statistic that has made the news in the U.S. lately is that 1 in 97 males born will present inside the autism syndrome. Of course, few soon to be parents worry about those odds and in most cases there is no need to worry. However, if your child is the “1″ rather than the other “96″ — well, life just changed for an entire family.
Another interesting statistic is the one that tries to convince people there is very little chance of winning the lottery— the last I saw for the big game tickets sold locally was something like 1 in 72,500,000 to win the big prize. Again just as the autism syndrome odds have not caused a decrease in births, the less than slim chance of winning the multi-million dollar prize has not caused people to stop standing in line when the jackpot reaches the hundreds of millions of dollars. Just try to tell the man or woman or family who bought the winning ticket that the odds were against them. Of course, I do wonder how it feels to be the “1″ in that 72,500,000.
But, back to the 10,000 days, now shortened by a couple of years. Briefly, I purchased 10,000 sheets of paper. (A bit eccentric, I suppose — ) It was my intention to write on as many sheets as possible. I have the sheets that are things I want to do — looking forward, kind of like my bucket list by day. When I complete or accomplish one of the wishes I move that sheet of paper to the “I Did It” pile.
I bring this up not to be morbid, but to share the idea of mortality. Oh, please… I am not sitting around thinking about dying or anything like that. I am only thinking that we are a few days away from a new year and for some reason we all get our knickers in a twist settling on our wish lists for the upcoming year although most of us will call our wishes and dreams by the name “resolution.”
My father was one to believe that our resolutions set for the new year should be called goals. He had a very strict definition of a goal, and it had more to do with hard work and keeping track than wishing. My New Years Resolutions lists were well thought out. Anyway, when I was eighteen I bought my first real journal. I had kept diaries, etc. but I began keeping journals when I was eighteen. My first journal had nothing to do with gratitude. It had one page written during the year. On New Year’s Eve I committed to my goals for the next year in writing.
Oddly enough over the years I have kept that same journal and each year I add a page for the upcoming year. My husband says that I must have great expectations for myself…. not by the goals I set, but because I bought a journal with 200 pages. 
Well, leave it to the cynic! Or, maybe I once had greater expectations than I do today.
Anyway, each year I read all the previous entries — from the time I was 18. I have to admit that when I was 18 sky diving seemed like something I wanted to do. I was 28 before I jumped from an airplane. When I was 18 I wanted to marry my present husband. I married twice before I got to him and twenty-three years passed between the time we last dated and finally reunited. But, I finally married the love of my life.
The point is simple. If you are one to make resolutions, make them worth something. I am so thankful for my New Year’s Goal Journal. Sometimes it takes me more than a year. Occasionally, I wonder what I was thinking when I decided on such a goal. But, as I look back through the journal and the 41 pages I have written so far, I feel as if I have lived my life as fully and as richly as I dreamed I would. Of course, I still have dreams and goals… Now, just to decide on the ones that really count for next year.
