VUE

T he first of January is just another day—its physical properties do not differ from any other day in the calendar year. On this day, the earth does not reset, the planet's orbit does not adjust and, as far as I'm aware, nothing of note in the universe is scheduled for annual renewal. However, if you observed the customs the Western world has built around this concept of 'e New Year' objectively, you might assume that something galactic was about to happen and, as a society, we were preparing ourselves for it. Take the prevalence of New Year's resolutions for instance—a tradition in which individuals make promises to themselves, and sometimes to the people around them, that they will change one or more of their undesirable traits. e most popular of the resolutions being to "stay fit and healthy," the second most popular being blatantly to "lose weight." e months that follow New Years—January, February and (let's be generous) a little bit of March—are characterized by juice cleanses, gym memberships, diet books and self-help podcasts. In the end, only 8 percent of people successfully follow through with their New Year's resolutions, with the rest of us teetering off during months one and two. As "New Year, new me," remains plastered across Instagram posts and vision boards alike, many of us have begun to suspect that happiness in the New Year relies more on making peace with things as they are, rather than forcing and failing to make things change. My suspicion that perhaps my New Year's resolution should have been "New Year, same me and that's okay" was solidified during a conversation I had with a man named MARK VAN BUREN. VUE ON WELLNESS V U E N J . C O M 118

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