Where Should We Begin?

A Question for the New Year

One of my best friends in Seattle owns a game by Esther Perel called “Where Should We Begin?” It’s meant to facilitate stronger connections through the answering of deep, personal questions. This is the phrase that comes to mind this morning, as I’m folded cross-legged into my favorite armchair. I watch a few small birds chase each other around the potted plants outside, late enough in the morning that it’s past sunrise, though the sky is a sheet of heavy gray fog.

I recently returned from two weeks in Texas, where I ate many tacos, shared belly laughs and outside time with loved ones, and celebrated the new year with a polar plunge in Barton Springs Pool (if you know, you know). I wrote a few times on my vacation - an early morning poem typed on my phone’s Notes app from a friend’s apartment, a couple of hand-scrawled journal entries, a quiet start to an abandoned Substack post. I thought a lot, too. Started processing some challenging relationship dynamics. Reflected on how culture and generation shape the way we view the world (partly through reading Michelle Zauner’s Crying in H-Mart). Observed the many different lives my friends are living, considering what I want for my own.

Over the past month, I’ve sat down a few times, pen in hand, with a well-intentioned plan to outline my SMART goals for the year. Upon my first attempt, I ended up with a cascading list of goals and ideas, working my way back up the page as I ran out of space at the bottom. Some end in question marks, like: Spanish? (a prompt for me to consider whether I want to do more than my standard 5 minutes a day on Duolingo to improve my language-learning speed and retention). Others are dependent on factors outside of my control, like the health and mobility of others: Travel with Grandma. Some are important but still a little nebulous, hard to measure: Set and enforce boundaries without apology; Continue to deepen spiritual practice through yoga, meditation, reading, writing, community. There are a few related to writing my book. And - ironically? - a couple about rest. I’ve considered some other, more specific goals in the weeks since.

This list of 23 bullet points (I’m actually not kidding) are the ideations of a person who is excited by SO MANY THINGS. I like that about myself. And though I do firmly believe in setting SMART goals (so I know how to work towards them and can tell when I’ve met them or made measurable progress), I think there’s value in getting them all down on the page first, in any format, so I can refine and prioritize later. The challenge is, I’m anticipating a year of transition. I’m in planning and decision-making mode and don’t know exactly what this year will look like. Which makes it hard to identify reasonable goals.

I know who I want to be, though. And that’s the most me I can get. I learned people pleasing as a survival mechanism and have invested time, energy, and resources in my adulthood to start unlearning those behaviors. Looking back over the past few years, the moments I regret the most are the ones where I made myself small. Where I slowed myself down or took up less space or silenced my discomfort for the perceived benefit of someone else. Conversely, the moments I’m most proud of are when I did my own thing or voiced my own needs, sometimes to the confusion or disappointment of others, but often resulting in closer and more trusting relationships or in adventures I’d never dreamed I’d have.

A new bud I glimpsed on a walk this week. It seems a good symbol for new beginnings.

Over break, a dear relative asked me, “So what is your plan?”, wondering about my path, worried and wanting the best for me. “I don’t have one,” I answered, and I felt happy. It was kind of a full-circle moment. When I was graduating from college, all of my peers were going off to fancy jobs or professional schools. I had excelled in school but felt like I’d failed somehow when I graduated without a job lined up. At the induction ceremony for Phi Beta Kappa, we were given these little notecards we had to fill out that would be read as we walked across the stage to shake hands with someone and collect our certificates. One of the questions we had to answer was what our plans were for after graduation. I sweat as I wrote my answer, sat nervously in the dark auditorium while names were called, along with prestigious medical schools and consulting firms. Suddenly it was my turn. “Lillian Seidel,” a woman read. “After graduation, she wants…to be happy.” The audience broke into little titters of delight. I focused on not tripping as I made my way across the stage.

That was ten years ago, and it is still mostly true. Beyond that, though, I want to be wholly, authentically, fully me. I believe the rest will come from there.

I’m not exactly sure what my goals are for this year. But I do have direction, starting from inward. So, 2025, where should we begin?

P.S. For many, including those affected by the LA wildfires, the new year is beginning with loss and devastation. Please consider donating if you can. See a list of organizations here.