New Year's False Start

I apologize in the delay behind my reflections on the new year, my greater-than-or-equal-to zero readers. It is perhaps better this way, as I take a very dim view to that holiday; by now you've had your fun and nothing I say about it will be able to ruin things. Let me say at the very beginning that I have no idea why we have this holiday when we do. I'm not even sure why we've got it at all.

You know the Romans did not originally have months during the winter. There was something on the order of sixty days that fell after the final month, then December, which were considered some sort of flux time. Given the barrenness of winter this makes sense - originally the principal utility of a calendar was that it aided farmers to know when to plant and harvest, none of which goes on during (at least) two months of the winter.

One of the ancient kings was supposed to have added two extra months to the end of the calendar, these being (as they now are) January and February. Why it would be necessary to suddenly define all of this otherwise uncategorized time I don't know; there is little left from the era to suggest it was for administrative purposes. (The King that was said to add the two winter months, Numa, was known also for creating some of the first rigorous systems of Roman law. It may simply have been that this disorder was not to his liking - this assuming he even existed, as the "seven Kings of Rome" would have to have had reigns of something like sixty years each unless there were interregna or more Kings).

The problem, it seems, was that the Roman lunar calendar did not line up perfectly with the rotation of the Earth around the sun, the latter being more crucial to the agricultural purpose of the original calendars. Apparently the solution would be to occasionally chuck extra days into the year, and the first day of the new year was moved from the ides of March (the ides being generally towards the middle of the month and supposed to correspond to a full moon; this was either the 13th or 15th) to the Kalends of January (that is the first day of that month).

This did not universally continue; time has always been a national political thing, and in medieval Britain during the regime of the Julian calendar (which came down directly from the reforms of Caesar) New Year was on the Feast of the Annunciation, colloquially called "Lady Day," which fell annually on 25 March. This continued through to the year 1752, in which the English new year (along with the English calendar) adopted the Gregorian system.

I do not understand why it is that the beginning of the year was shifted from the middle of March to the beginning of January. I can only assume it was administrative; but why that day is better than any other is beyond me. It seems logical that rather than bisect a season (and the bleakest and most miserable one at that) one would set the beginning of the year as the conclusion of one season and the beginning of the next. The ides of March were always supposed to be quite auspicious (the murder of Caesar notwithstanding - sic semper tyranus), and in addition to being the beginning of the agricultural year spring is both viscerally and metaphorically the most bright and optimistic of seasons - the new beginning of the natural world. Naturally I suggest we move it back, and as soon as I have obtained unchecked power over the peoples of the Earth it will surely be so. Except I'll work something out for the southern hemisphere. Maybe October.

As much as I'd like to think that changing the logical basis of the new year (or introducing one) would necessarily induce an end to the maudlin hand-wringing that accompanies it, I'm not holding my breath. Academic discussions aside, people require landmarks to punctuate the otherwise endless and ruthless flow of time, and to take an opportunity to reassess who they are and where they're going. Sadly, the inspiration provided by an easily-digestible chunk of time appears to exclude most real reflection. A perfunctory Google search turned up a few things of immediate interest: one was usa.gov, which I did not know existed despite having taken an entire class on the government and the Internet. (My education is money well-spent, no?) Of the thirteen "top New Year's resolutions" they listed, no doubt the result of a detailed statistical analysis, all but one were thoroughly self-involved and most were so nebulous that they're impossible to really justify (and therefore to uphold). This from our government, mind you. Hopefully a very very small part thereof.

The second was an article from the Huffington Post, a site I read occasionally as it caters to my smarmy leftish tendencies. This particular piece was by Nora Ephron, who I find all right, and discusses (rhetorically) what her resolutions would be for 2008, given the fact that those she had for 2007 - losing two pounds and cooking some dish I'd never heard of - went bust. I don't necessarily agree or disagree with any of them, though I can't speak to William Kristol's latest sins and I wouldn't send Kiefer Sutherland anywhere on my behalf. Rather what I find telling is the jocular, outlandish focus of the article - and the mocking tone that is all too appropriate to what constitutes our new year's "resolutions." Not to be outdone, I assure you, the University of Maryland provides a handy/ridiculous guide to maintaining your resolutions. I didn't really read it through. I don't think I could bear it at this hour.

There are generally two problems with our hand-wringing new year's behavior. The first and most obvious is that if there were going to be serious resolve to effect serious change in ourselves - or better yet the world - then the date we put them into action wouldn't matter. 1 January is no better a time to resolve than 15 March or 20 September or any other day. Indeed those decisions which most form our lives usually do not come on any convenient or inspirational day. Therefore those decisions we do finally take don't come on our utterly arbitrary holiday - and the ones that come on that holiday end up being as hollow as they are shallow.

The immediate problem is that these resolutions are utterly without thought or basis and so wither like a flower out of soil. Why do you want to lose ten pounds? To improve general health? Fit back into that dress or those pants? To be more attractive, to get dates, to find love? The way weight are done over in popular culture (and the other common fodder for resolutions, like "niceness," smoking, and stress) it would seem that doing this is intrinsically good. It is not, and to "resolve" anything this way - and to do so at a certain moment simply because it's a socially-ordained day - not only makes a mockery of the very idea but sets up such a resolution for failure.

The date probably has no influence in this - in fact the two subjects are probably apples and oranges, the one included to make my observations on the other sound less Chicken Soup for the Student's Soul. But I think that it's just possible that divorced of the wake of three major holidays built around food and profligate expense (and the attendant stress and heartache), and placed in a season itself inextricably associated with rebirth and life, we might be able to take the New Year landmark and the reflection for which we intend it with a bit of gravitas. The pathetic fallacy is what it is; but nice weather really does have a positive influence on moods and the conditions of thought. The basis of a resolution should be the reflection on our flaws, not the immediate desires of the moment.

Failing that, however, we could fix the immediate problem, stop making New Year's resolutions and begin with simple resolutions. Tomorrow is as good as any other day; and there is no bad time to make any positive change, be it momentous or minute. Indeed New Year's may be the worst time of the year to resolve anything: everyone, yourself included, expects you to fail. Belief is usually a prophecy that fulfills itself.

For now, however, I've resolved to lose ten pounds. But don't worry: it's for a good cause. I'm going to donate it to a starving village in the Hollywood Hills.