What If Your Resolutions Started From the Inside?

When we think about New Year’s resolutions, we almost always aim them at the visible parts of ourselves. The outside self. Exercise more. Eat better. Save money. Get organized. Be happier. Spend more time with the people we love.

All good things.

But here’s the quieter question as another year begins: What about the part of you no one sees? The heart self. Do you make any resolutions for that you?

What if, alongside the step counts and spreadsheets, we added intentions like: be kinder. Be more generous. Be slower to judge. And—if you believe in a divine presence—draw closer to the Divine. The challenge, of course, is that inner change doesn’t come with metrics. You can’t track it on an app. You can’t check it off a list. It feels vague. Intimidating. A little impractical.

Here’s the good news: you don’t need perfect words or a complicated plan. You really only need a few simple practices.

First: Mean what you say.
Don’t overthink it. You don’t have to imagine who you’ll become. Just be honest. Say—silently or aloud—to whatever you believe in: I want to draw closer. I want my heart to change.
That’s enough. Consider it an invitation.

Second: Show up.
You can’t send the invitation and then disappear. Set aside a small pocket of time to simply be present. No multitasking. No music. No inspirational reading. Just quiet.
It may feel awkward. Five or ten minutes is plenty. This is a discipline learned slowly. What matters isn’t the length—it’s the willingness.

Third: Notice.
Afterward, pay attention. What surfaced? A thought. A resistance. A surprising calm. Write it down. Insight is fleeting, and our lives are noisy. The notebook isn’t about perfection—it’s about remembering.

Fourth: Please—and Thank You.
It’s okay to ask for help forgiving, softening, becoming more generous. But this isn’t a transaction. It’s a relationship. Gratitude keeps it honest.
And don’t expect fireworks.

This kind of change usually arrives quietly—through tiny, almost unnoticeable shifts. A pause where you used to react. A kindness that surprises even you. A different choice that suddenly feels natural.

Say thank you even if you aren’t noticing anything “happening” yet. Because one day, you’ll hear yourself respond differently. You’ll act with more grace than effort. And you’ll realize something has been quietly shaping you all along.

Not a resolution checked off a list—but a heart, slowly learning a better way.