![]() ![]() When I don’t pause to reflect and celebrate progress, the small starts don’t gain enough traction to make a difference. But I’m still learning the importance of celebrating progress. It’s true, I am a woman who appreciates the value of a small start. ![]() Instead of going for the big, flashy wins that don’t really matter, the Essentialist pursues small and simple wins in areas that are essential.” “Instead of trying to accomplish it all - and all at once - and flaring out, the Essentialist starts small and celebrates progress. I read this phrase in Greg McKeown’s book, Essentialism: What gives? I’ve narrowed it down to two things. Well guess what? This time next year is now, and another birthday is soon to come, and I don’t feel very different. Last April I told myself by this time next year, I won’t be discouraged when I look in the mirror. I would start small again, here and there, but like snow on a warm sidewalk, my routine had all but disappeared. ![]() My small starts rolled to an uneventful halt. Then the holidays changed my normal routines, and in January the snow days rolled into town, keeping the kids home from school for days at a time. Still, I understood the power of starting small.īut then October rolled around and I got sick with a brutal cold for a full six weeks. For six months I had a vague sense of confidence and accomplishment, but nothing extreme. I continued with that schedule, making a few other small lifestyle changes as I went along. I did it because I liked it, because I felt better afterward, and because it was all around good for me. When I got home, I started attending a power yoga class twice every week for months. I realized that starting small and paying attention could eventually have a big impact. I could feel myself rushing into the future, doubting that change was possible, but I purposed to simply stay in the moment and make small choices as they came. Turning the light out in the hotel bathroom, I sat down in my jammies in front of my spaghetti and began to notice the self-talk happening in my head. I remember that part specifically - by this time next year. Standing there in that hotel bathroom, I decided to make small changes so that, by this time next year, I won’t be discouraged when I look in the mirror. But in that moment, though I held discouragement in one hand, in my other hand I felt the silky promise of hope as I realized the power I had to change: There is no law that says I must always feel discouraged when I look in a mirror. I don’t know if it’s because April is my birthday month and a natural time to evaluate life and how we’re living it. I was discouraged in the way a mom of three in her late 30s might feel discouraged when she sees her reflection in a full length mirror. I wish I could say I was all delighted by what I saw, but I wasn’t. It had been a while since I’d seen my whole self all at once. It was a full-length mirror and I paused to stare because, at that time, I didn’t have a full-length mirror anywhere in my house and hadn’t for years. I ordered dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant, brought it back to my room, and went into the bathroom to change into my jammies before settling in to eat.Īs I changed clothes, I caught sight of my reflection on the back of the bathroom door. Last year around this time, I was out of town staying alone in a hotel, away for a weekend of writing. ![]()
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