When I was 23 and living in Boulder, Colorado, Idecided one autumn afternoon that I would drive back east to my collegeHomecoming/Reunion.  I spent a few hours swappingshifts at work and withdrawing almost all of the four hundred or so dollars Ihad in my savings account at the time, and by 9 o'clock that night I hadreached Denver and turned east on Route 70 headed all the way to Washington,D.C.  It was not a thing I'd necessarily recommendto 23 year olds right now.  I guess I'vegotten a little old…probably I'd utter things like, "Why would you do that inthis economy?" or "Do you really think your 20 year old Volkswagen can makeit there and back?"  (For the record, itdid make it there…just not the back part, and I returned two weeks later viaGreyhound.)

But I bring it up because one of the most specialmoments in my life occurred on that trip. For two and a half days I drove for a few hours until the engine beganto get too hot, then I'd pull over and read for a while, or sleep for a while -sometimes in an open field, sometimes in the car itself.  By the afternoon of the third day, I hadreached the short rolling hills of eastern Kentucky, with the sun maybe an hourfrom setting almost directly behind me. It was late October, but it was still warm enough to roll the windowsdown and breathe in the reflective glory as the sun's light bounced off theautumn foliage all around.  I'd headedoff to a smaller country highway and the traffic was so light that it lent an airof exclusivity to me and my fellow travelers, as if only we would be privilegedenough to see all of this.  And to top itall off, I had John Coltrane's "A Love Supreme" and Beethoven's 9thSymphony to act as the soundtrack for a little more than an hour as the sun setand the gloaming gave way to darkness. It was the last in a series of maybe three or four transcendent momentsaround that time in my life which would later act as a sort of spiritual,geometrical theorem providing me with all the proof I needed that God didindeed exist.  And I never was, before orsince, as grateful to be alive.
Obviously I have never forgotten that moment.  But I think in the two decades that havefollowed, I have held on to it in mostly the wrong way.  I have searched for a repeat performance,wanting to be lifted up to such spiritually transforming heights, once again.  And I have been disappointed time after time inthat pursuit.  Even getting my firstnovel published has not done the trick, instead yielding concerns of whether itwill sell enough to allow the publishing of my second, and such.  It is reflective of how I have come to think,and, if I may stretch it beyond myself, how we as a society have come to think.
We are all imperfect people, broken in some way oranother.  And we live in an imperfectworld that is broken in many ways.  Oneneed only turn on the television or thumb through a magazine to be reminded ofour imperfections.  Pharmaceuticalcompanies tell us to ask our doctors if we should be on their medications,there are ads to grow hair, remove unwanted hair, whiten our teeth, loseweight, look younger, get rid of acne, and on and on and on. 
Now, I'm not calling for an end to capitalism as weknow it, just pointing out that it's a greater challenge today, in this age ofhyper-convenience, to actually feel good about ourselves, our friends andfamilies, and the world around us.  Whatused to be a New Year's tradition of making a resolution, has now grown into ayear-round industry.  And we, as a result,are never given a minute just to be content, and truly grateful to be alive.So in comes 2012, and time for resolutions to bemade.  In thinking about it these lastfew days, I formulated the usual sorts of things.  But just yesterday my thoughts took me backto that drive from Colorado to D.C.  I thoughtabout that magical hour through eastern Kentucky, and my resolution, my real resolution was formed.  I concede that I will never look, nor think, likethat 23 year old again.  And I'm OK withthat.  One time around is enough, ifthere is true growth involved, and gratitude. I know I have grown as a person since then and will continue to do so.  Now, this first day of 2012, I resolve to be notas focused on the brokenness, the incompleteness.  Instead, I will try every day, to be trulygrateful, for what I have, for the moments of clarity and confusion, for the perfectand imperfect alike.  And most of all,for the chance to enjoy the ride.