Why I Don’t Make New Year’s Resolutions
Several years ago, I began by questioning something very basic: what does it actually mean to observe? Not improve, fix, or control….
Just observe.
At first, this sounded simple, almost passive. But I slowly realized that true observation is active and demanding. It requires seeing reality as it is without immediately reacting to it, labeling it good or bad, or trying to change it.
In that sense, meditation isn’t about silencing thoughts or achieving calm. Meditation is the distance between observation and stimulation, the space between what happens and how we respond. The wider that distance becomes, the more freedom we have.
With that understanding, I realized something important: I didn’t need discipline yet. I didn’t need goals or resolutions. I needed awareness.
So I decided to question my entire relationship with consumption — any kind of pleasure, whether labeled “good” or “bad.” I didn’t try to change anything at first. I simply started by monitoring, which for me was applied observation. At the time, I believed I barely consumed anything. I’d say, “I don’t really eat sugar.” Yet, I was having ice cream almost every day. I’d say, “I don’t drink much.” But then a friend pointed out, “You drink every day.” Even coffee. I thought a single espresso was nothing until I realized it was still a daily stimulant.
That moment made me laugh, but it also made something click. Observation revealed the gap between perception and reality. I began tracking everything, not as control, but as seeing. It started very simply: A piece of paper. Then notes. Eventually, it became a more structured accountability sheet that followed daily behaviors…especially sleep.
Sleep quickly emerged as the central pillar. I started asking basic but essential questions:
What is sleep?
What supports it?
What disrupts it?
Why does everything feel harder when sleep is off?
Patterns became obvious. Whether I had coffee before or after 10 a.m. Whether I ate too close to bedtime. Whether I had two or three glasses of wine. Each choice affected sleep, and sleep affected everything else: mood, clarity, energy, and how I showed up the next day.
This was never a resolution. I didn’t commit to quitting anything. I didn’t say, “From now on, no coffee,” or “I must drink two liters of water a day.” I only said, “Let me observe honestly. Let me see what is actually happening in my body and mind.”
That observation slowly revealed truths I couldn’t argue with. My sleep wasn’t as good as I thought. My sugar intake was higher than I believed. I drank more than five glasses of alcohol a week. Not because I lacked willpower, but because I lacked awareness. It was only later, through conversations and teachings with Rodney Yee and Colleen Saidman, that this observational approach was given language. It was a foundational yogic idea: the first action of a yogi is not to change anything, but to observe. First see, then act.
I remember my first yoga teacher training class. I was excited to do something, but instead, we spent hours simply observing breath and bodily sensation. There was no correction or notes for improvement, just attention. The practice was never about restriction; it was about clarity. Monitoring created accountability without force. Over time, this evolved into a shared practice with others — at one point, about 35 people checking in daily! We weren’t trying to control each other, just witness:
Did you sleep well?
Did you use substances?
Did you reduce sugar?
Did you sit for meditation, even if only for five minutes?
Slowly, consistency replaced effort. You don’t stop, because you’ve already shown up for 10 days… then 20… then 25. Eventually, something shifts. You continue not because you should, but because awareness itself becomes the motivation.
This is where New Year’s resolutions enter the picture.
Every year, we make promises. But they are forced promises built on resistance. New Year’s resolutions come from the mind trying to control behavior, which often creates pressure, guilt, and disappointment. There’s a quote often attributed to C.S. Lewis:
“Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is.”
New Year’s resolutions are organized resistance. You’re essentially saying: “From January 1st, I will resist X (alcohol, sugar, your phone, old habits, anger).” And what happens next? The moment you declare resistance, you suddenly feel: More cravings, more thoughts about the thing, more inner noise, more failure when you slip.
Lewis’s point is uncomfortable but true: temptation isn’t fully felt by those who give in immediately. Its strength is revealed through restraint. The moment you try to say no, you discover how powerful the pull actually is. He was deeply skeptical of moral systems that praised repression without acknowledging its cost, because suppression doesn’t dissolve desire. More often than not, it intensifies obsession, guilt, and inner conflict.
This doesn’t mean give in to everything. It means see clearly what you’re dealing with. Take meditation as an example. Someone makes a resolution, “This year I will meditate every day.” Internally, it often becomes:
“I should meditate.”
“Why am I avoiding it?”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“I failed again today.”
Now compare that to awareness instead of resistance:
You sit.
You notice restlessness.
You notice boredom.
You notice the urge to quit.
There’s no fighting or moral judgment in this, just seeing. That’s close to what Alan Watts meant when he said that trying to improve yourself is the ego chasing its own tail. The more force you apply, the more resistance you meet. Most resolutions fail not because people are lazy, but because they are built on resisting desire. Resistance strengthens what it resists. When it doesn’t work, people blame themselves instead of questioning the method.
Real change doesn’t come from force. It comes from seeing clearly - from awareness, not willpower. It’s anti–self-violence disguised as discipline.
Struggle doesn’t mean failure. Struggle means you’re actually seeing what’s there. That’s what observation does: It doesn’t demand change. It makes change inevitable.
