In pursuit of: 2026

Making an indefinite list of goals only seems apropos every time January rolls around. Every year, I become looser and more flexible with my objectives, consciously rejecting a strict timeline for rigid resolutions. In the past, I’ve taken the initiative to reduce numeric targets, aiming low on books read and yearly mileage in an attempt to relieve myself from any pressure to succeed. These numbers would be easily attainable, something I could probably fulfill by the halfway mark. I structured my goals this way as a way to ensure that I remained consistent with my habits and passions, but without the strain of demand. But as each year passes by, I am quick to realize that my personal intentions every year remain quite uniform. I want to continue pursuing ambitions that satisfy my creative side. I want to maintain my fitness and continue growing in the direction that I have cultivated for my physical, emotional, and mental health. Each prior resolution I’ve mapped out has aimed to uphold this sense of self I’ve built, but never any specific to my inherent weaknesses. 

It is to overcomplicate goals, to give yourself too many deadlines with too many checkpoints. It’s also easy to oversimplify your goals, to offer yourself blanket objectives that leave room for wide margins of error. This year, I am trying to avoid resolutions that are defined by time, goals that do not ebb and flow with me as I continue to change and evolve. I know I won’t let my creativity wane; I know where I want to be with my physical being. There is no need for me to reiterate the same goals every January, and each year becomes a feedback loop of maintaining consistency. This year, I want to begin. I want to begin, and I hope that this start will become a lifelong journey of more, of abundance. This year, and for the rest of my life, I want to learn more, I want to listen more, and I want to let go. 

How simple these goals sound, but how much they add to my life if I intentionally strive for them every day. I want to learn more. Learning is the ultimate love language, whether it’s intended for a romantic interest or for yourself. I want to love myself more, so I will learn. I will learn more in terms of academics; I will be well-read, I will confront subjects that previously challenged me, subjects that I used to excel at but never studied again after I chose the career path that has led me to where I am now. I will learn more about myself, discover new hobbies I may take an interest in, and new facets of my personality that I may have repressed. This year, I will pour love into everything I do, to learn in order to enrich my well-being and my relationship with others. Every day, I will continue loving my partner, more and more, I will continue loving my friends, more and more. Adulthood is a maze, and growing up is an entrapment of your past self; it is the unbroken evolution of yourself. A relationship, whether platonic or romantic, is the commitment of continuously learning about the other person, and this is a vow I will take from here on out, to continue growing, to continue learning, and to continue loving. 

This year, I will listen more. Though I do not consider myself an extrovert, I tend to have the vocal mannerisms of someone who is. This year, I will listen more. Now, this does not mean that I will silence myself or dampen my opinions, but I will allow more silence into my life, both for myself and for others. I will allow myself to slow down, to let my thoughts linger longer in my mind, allow them to steep in the crevices of nuance and refinement. I will listen to my friend more, ask better questions, and give them the space in my life so when I shout down the cavernous black hole, it is not just my own cries echoing back at me but the laughter and memories of my friends drifting back to the light. I will listen to myself more, to my body, and what it is trying to tell me. I will let my limbs speak to me instead of my guilty consciousness. I will listen to my feet tell me that resting is okay, listen to my stomach when it tells me I need fuel, listen to the reminders in the joints of my knees and the swells of my ankles. How will I ever learn if I don’t listen more? 

I would say this is the most important of all, but in all honesty, there is no one without the other. This year, I want to let go more. I want to release myself of expectations and rigidity, whether that be the incessant need for a schedule planned down to the hour or the fixed strain in my jaw from winding myself up too tight. I will let go of my assumptions, of unpromised futures, to make space for positive change in my life. I will let go, replacing my suffering of the unknown and my resistance with peace for personal freedom, for the only guarantee in life, which is that what’s meant for me won’t pass me by. It will not be easy, this I know, but it will be worth the arduous journey to hike the mountain. By releasing myself from the illusions of how I perceive things should be, I will gain the capacity to receive new, better opportunities. I will accept impermanence, recognize that everything changes, even the good things. I will let go of my comfort zones, let go of grudges, let go of regret and bitterness. What is a life lived if not a life filled with laughter, filled with peace, filled with fear, and taking leaps? 

If I had the ability to make wishes come true, to snap my fingers and have all my goals achieved, it would not be to read 100 books a year or run my fastest marathon time. It would not be financial gain or career success. It would be the aforementioned goals, a way for me to achieve every single future goal I will set forth on, and a way for me to become the person that I will always strive to be. I would want to become the version of myself that only exists in the skewed portrayal on my social media and in my dreams. But that’s not realistic, is it? Because the truth is, there is never an end to becoming yourself. There is never an end to learning, to listening, and to letting go. There will always be more to master, more stories to hear, more grief and hurdles and regrets you will have to abandon. Life does not give you a deadline; it does not give you a cutoff of when you stop growing into yourself, into the friendships you're building, and the people you love. 

This year, I will begin. And if not this month, then the next, and if not this year, then the next. There will never be an end, but there is always time to start again.