Dear Earth, help me to give up resolutions.

I’ve always been a sucker for self-improvement schemes. I have hope that if only I was cleverer, a tad more famous, a little bit thinner (etc.) that life would be perfect. This means I get strong urges to better myself, especially at this time of year.

There’s nothing wrong with aspirations. If I didn’t have aspirations, I wouldn’t have done many of the good things I’ve done – written books, created a temple, trained as a psychotherapist. What’s unhelpful is thinking that a new improved version of me will be happier or, more crucially, more lovable.

When I look into the eyes of my dog Aiko, darling Earth, I see her adoring me. She doesn’t care if I’m sixty or eighty kilograms. She doesn’t care if I’ve written five books or a hundred or none. She doesn’t care how many religious texts I’ve read or how many languages I’ve mastered.

She does like it when I rub her neck. She does like it when I smile back at her, and when I’m happy.

I do have plans for this year. I do want to finish a book for you, dear Earth, and to re-start a modest yoga practice after a lapsed year.

I’m acknowledging the self-improvement-nut parts of me that get excited about this. Ooh, yoga will tone your flabby body and you’ll be beautiful! Ooh, the book will make you really popular! I’m also reminding these parts that I find the process of doing yoga and writing worthwhile, and that’s enough. The results are irrelevant, because I am already loved just as I am.

Look into those doggie eyes. Just as I am – this is how Aiko loves me. And this is how you love me too, dear Earth.

With gratitude, Satya <3