Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
It’s another New Year’s Eve, and the world is buzzing with full tummies, long hangovers, and preparations for 2025. We see posts like daisies early on social media: “Happy New Year! It’s the year to do, get, and have XYZ.”
Resolutions have lost their luster for me over the decades. I used to set big goals, cut out images from magazines, and lay out my affirmations as if they were bricks of gold, leading the way to crushing it “next year.” I used to tell people about my plans, hoping they would admire my ambition.
Always planning, wanting, doing, hustling, grinding, networking, smiling, and dialing ideal prospects using landlines more in a year than most salespeople make in a lifetime.
I was never rich enough, good enough, or satisfied. I set preposterous goals, got attached to outcomes, and then got pissed at myself for falling short of the goals.
Ignorance is only blissful to the ignorant. I didn’t know better.
Until I read the book The Power of Intention by Wayne Dyer, I clung to the motivation of fear of failure as if it were the Holy Grail. But, after I beat myself up enough, I started waking up to Dyer’s profound message.
In The Power of Intention, Dyer redefines intention as a universal energy field rather than a personal goal. This force, characterized by qualities like love, abundance, creativity, and kindness, is always available for us to align with.
It’s about being more than wanting, getting, doing, etc.
He teaches us to manifest our highest potential by embodying these traits and releasing ego-driven desires. Dyer emphasizes gratitude, forgiveness, and a positive mindset as tools to align with this energy, making life feel less effortful and more inspired.
Wayne Dyner will always be one of my superhero role models. He was brilliant at blending psychology, spirituality, and practical wisdom, helping millions transform their lives by emphasizing inner growth, positivity, and alignment with universal principles.
Dr. Wayne W. Dyer (1940–2015), often called the "Father of Motivation," was a psychologist, self-help pioneer, and spiritual teacher. He authored over 40 books, including Your Erroneous Zones, one of the best-selling self-help books ever.
Resolutions are about doing. Intentions are about being.
The distinction between resolution and intention is subtle but apparent if you look closely enough. Resolutions are task-oriented, tied to external outcomes, and often laden with expectations.
They whisper promises of a “better you,” but only if you can meet the goal. And the truth is, we can’t control outcomes. They’re slippery, determined by variables beyond our grasp.
You can’t will yourself into a new job into existence or force the scale to drop by sheer determination. Outcomes arrive when they will, often in ways we can’t predict. All we can do is show up daily and do the work — without guarantees.
Resolutions fall apart for many of us because they hinge on things we can’t control. And when we focus on what we can’t control, it’s only a matter of time before frustration, guilt, or self-judgment creep in.
Being intentional pays off.
Intentions, though? Intentions are a whole different story. They’re about being. They shift the focus toward who we want to be and how we want to feel rather than what we want to achieve.
Intentions don’t demand perfection; they invite presence. They aren’t a rigid checklist; they’re a compass, a guiding principle to help us navigate the messiness of life.
I thought back to my primary intention last year: to reduce stress by choosing new consulting clients and writing projects. My intention is always to remain curious about what’s next.
The intention happened, and it’s happening right now.
Being curious is the way.
Curiosity is the gateway to opportunity. It allows me to make minor changes, such as longer walks, different clients, and a commitment to relaxation.
The results? They came in their own time.
But the process? The process was where the magic happened.
The process is BEING intentional, not DOING, getting, or having more.
That’s the thing about intentions. They root you in the process, the small daily choices that shape your life over time.
They remind you that the journey matters more than the destination, that chopping wood and carrying water — when done with presence and purpose — is where joy lives.
I’m intentional about my routine, how I eat, what I read and watch when streaming, and who I hang around. I’m intentional about living a simple life; therefore, my life is relatively simple. It’s by design.
I didn’t need a list of goals to guide me into 2025. I have a journal, a vision, a mission, and a plan. But the plan is fluid and will change because arguing with change is futile.
The 2025 plan is the same as 2024: “Be here, now. Trust God. Love everything. Pray without ceasing. It’s all good.”
Seek spiritual progress, not perfection. I learned this from attending 12-step meetings for twenty years.
I didn’t seek promises of dramatic change. What I needed and wanted was simple: to live in alignment with what mattered to me: my relationship with God, family, and everything else that follows these two priorities.
I stay curious. I approach each day with a sense of wonder and a willingness to try. No wonder people think I’m immature; my inner child thrives, and I’m only 63.
I sleep like a dolphin.
When the clock strikes midnight on December 31, 2024, I will be fast asleep even though I sleep with one eye open, like a dolphin.
I won’t raise a glass to resolutions other than a carbonated can of water, and I will be in bed before 8 p.m. like most nights. I will hug my wife and best friend for life, Janice.
I will thank God for another day.
For 2025, think about setting the intention to be like water, effortlessly fluid, adaptable, and rooted in the quiet power of being.
I raise my can of carbonated water to each of you and pray that you are well, healthy, and in peace.
May you chop your wood, carry the water, and smile each step of the way.
I write about the art of human transformation, consciousness, spiritual evolution, transcending suffering, and mental health. Learn about my executive and strategic communications work at www.CliffordJones.com.