I’ve often heard that if you put your trust in the universe, good things will happen. For the most part, I’ve always viewed that idea as a little too ‘rainbows and unicorns’ for me. But there’s also something very compelling about it. You mean, if i take the lazy way out, things will work out for me anyway? Sweet! But I don’t think being lazy is what’s intended. What’s really going on here is a friendly reminder to not worry about things over which you have no control anyway.

So, with that in mind, I’ve been attempting to carry out my life in such a way that I don’t worry about all the things that normally get to me: the rude or insensitive comments, what appears to be a population imbued with a giant sense of entitlement, the external pressures to be a certain way or to achieve certain things. Instead, I decided to only offer my precious brain power to the service of working on things I can control: keeping a positive attitude, fulfillment of wishes and dreams, helping out friends.

And as soon as I did, something weird happened. I got a phone call that would change things for me. It felt great. I was elated. I thought to myself: That was just what I needed. But after a while, when the initial excitement wore off, I started feeling anxious and not at all sure. Things weren’t really meshing with my original plan. I got another phone call. And the situation rectified itself. I was off the hook.

I started to attribute this to the universe, I have to admit. Sometimes she just throws you a bone, I thought, and I’ve been between bones for quite some time. And while I normally believe I make my own “luck,” such as it is, it’s tempting, and sometimes even pleasant, to believe you’re being cared for by something else.

There are days when I have extremely vivid daydreams all day long. So much so, that when asked to remember the day, I have little to no idea of what happened.

For example, this morning while walking the dog through the park I saw a garbage bag on the ground, inflated by the wind. I imagined that inside that garbage bag was a dead body, blue and frozen from the cold (but not terribly gruesome, just so you know). In my daydream, I call in to work and say that I’ll be late, as I found a dead body and the police will want to speak with me for several hours. (Though, why it would take several hours is beyond me. Such are the meanderings of my mind.) Upon letting my boss know the circumstances of my tardiness, I was promptly notified that I was fired. I then proceeded for the next five minutes to postulate whether or not someone could actually be fired for that sort of thing, and were it not to be legal, what would be the recourse, and if it was legal, what, exactly, would I do?

And so it goes, all day long. I make things up, something else shiny catches my attention, and off I go on another tangent. As you can imagine, it is very productive.

I’ve looked at productivity websites, I’ve researched and applied the techniques that are supposed to turn you and your nasty procrastinating ways around–MITs (Most Important Things), doing the worst first, makings lists, giving myself rewards, breaking tasks down, building tasks up, uninterruptible periods of work time and daily goals—all with the glorious result of: nada. I got nothin’. At least nothing more than I would’ve gotten done without all the productivity proselytizing.

Someone once proposed to me that perhaps I was actually especially productive, and could get more things done in a shorter period of time than the average person. And while it’s true that sometimes I am capable of remarkable exploits of seemingly laser-guided concentration, it is also true that I am equally capable of mind-boggling feats of complete and utter mental absence. I think what it comes down to is that I’d rather be daydreaming.

Back in Olde Tymes, there was an entire class of people who were free to idle the day away in reverie. Idlers, slackers, layabouts, and dandies. Sure, no one really liked them much, especially the people who worked, but they did it anyway. And I, for one, commend them for their courage. Yes, I said it: courage. Who else would be able, in the face of being shunned and humiliated by society at large, pursue their daydreaming, and wear their badge proudly? Who else would sit idle while others toiled and sweated around them, conjuring up cockamamie schemes to further avoid labour? Only a true daydreamer, that’s who.

The chosen few, who, when asked “What the hell are you doing?!” proudly rise up and say, “Huh? I wasn’t paying attention.’

The beginning of a new year always seems a weighty, serious time. People have just come off of spending too much time with family, or friends who are just like family, making all of life’s imperfections more poignant and obvious. Despite the cheerful holiday demeanor and good times, a lot of dissatisfaction with the status quo bubbles and roils its way to the surface. In response, resolutions are made. Diets and fitness regimes are initiated, the buds of new habits are formed, cigarettes are shunned, spiritual growth is embarked upon, new jobs are sought. Often, by the end of January chocolate sneaks back into the meal plan, old jobs once again seem not so bad, and spiritual growth reverts to spiritual shrinking or at least stasis.

Now that we’re officially an entire week into the month of January (and almost a week into the festival of Inuary) I’ve had a little time to reflect on how I feel about resolutions. One side of the resolution coin is that the beginning of a new year is a like a new start, a symbolic way of starting afresh. It’s a period of collective reflection and relative calm, during which we can all get our shit together.

The other side of that coin is that New Year’s resolutions are yet another form of pressure, and a not-so-friendly reminder of all the work you have to do before you believe you are the fully actualized, perfectly delightful person you know resides at your very core. I would hardly say I’m anti-self improvement. On the contrary, I think anytime is a good time to start developing healthy habits and making positive change. I’m just saying that when we focus on what we’re doing wrong, we’re spending a lot less time doing things right. Benchmarking and positive reinforcement: good. Deriding ourselves up and comparing: bad.

So, for all those of us who beat ourselves up for sneaking a cigarette or chocolate, for getting a little too drunk, for hating Monday (through Friday), for forgoing Pilates class to have a burger and beer with our love, I say this: get off the resolution wagon, and catch a ride on the close-to-the-ground, slow moving and amply padded gentleness wagon. It’s more fun over here anyway.