I learned a long time ago that making resolutions for the new year was a good way to set myself up for disappointment. I prefer intention-setting, shifting the focus from outcomes to the experience of daily living. I suppose I lean into anything with more flexibility than rigidity.

I have written several times of my belief that developing resilience in our lives is a necessary practice. The first time I shared this topic was fifteen years ago, following my brief meeting and welcome conversational exchange shared with political figure Elizabeth Edwards during a signing of her book, “Resilience.”

Sadly, she passed away the following year at the age of 61. She made a lasting impression on me, and I’ve thought of her many times over the past many years with the spirit of her words particularly significant to me over the last twenty months.

Moving from one year to another the cultural messages of “a fresh start” or “clean slate,” imply resetting, but grief and love do not “reset” with the calendar. Poet Mary Oliver’s “Heavy,” in which she wrote about the death of her long-time partner, Molly Malone Cooke, appears in her 2006 collection “Thirst,” which chronicles her journey through overwhelming grief, yet clearly resonates with her resilience.

I recommend you find the entire poem, but I hope this excerpt gives you pause to think about any “loads” you carry, and perhaps inspires you to consider how you think about this one impactful word– resilience.

“It’s not the weight you carry

but how you carry it–

books, bricks, grief —

it’s all in the way

you embrace it, balance it, carry it

when you cannot, and would not put it down.”

Every time I have posted this past year and mentioned my own significant loss, I have also referenced the grief accompanying the region where I live and the devastating local fires. This next week marks the first anniversary that changed the lives of thousands of “my neighbors” and a handful of very close friends. Because of my dear friends I have had an “up close and personal” glimpse into their suffering. And by definition, loss and unwanted change birth grief.

When you’ve lost everything you own, including the roof over your head?

We don’t all share the same losses, nor do we have identical coping methods. And resilience might look different to each person, as well. But speaking for myself, or maybe speaking TO myself, I’m intrigued with what continuing to develop a friendship with resilience might offer.

A contemporary expansion of Oliver’s themes suggests, “Like the grass that is determined to grow despite unending obstacles, your resilience is not a choice you make once, but a quiet, deadly persistence to rise from the heart.”