To some people, the new year is a time to party, to watch a few football games, and maybe to make a few resolutions that they know, deep down inside, they won't keep.  It's still all of those things for me, but the new year is also a time for reflection – a convenient benchmark for measuring what I've learned so far, not just in the last year but all along the winding and unpredictable road I've been traveling.

Such reflections make me aware that whatever wisdom I possess has not been of my own making.  Most of the worthwhile ideas I have acquired have been taken entirely from someone else or are modifications of somebody else's thoughts.  It's quite humbling to recognize that I don't have as many original thoughts as I sometimes think I do.  I'm not referring here just to book-learning because, though I'm a perpetual student, most of my truly significant learning has come from experience – very often the experience of listening to the wisdom of others.

I'm fortunate enough to know a few people who seem to have achieved a high level of serenity, people who appear quite content with themselves and who deal with life's problem's far more calmly than I do.  I know them well enough to know that it's not a facade; they are really happy people.  I listen to what they say because I want what they have – and one thing I have learned to do is to listen more and talk less.  When I know them really well, I sometimes ask how they manage to be as serene as they are, when, after all, life can be difficult.

Since I start by putting myself down, admitting that I lack their coolness, the first advice that many of these people give me is to stop beating up on myself.  They tell me that, if I go around carrying a huge burden of guilt about mistakes I've made, I'm carrying a burden that prevents me from moving forward.  From them I have learned that one can have only a certain number of constructive reactions to one's own errors:  correct them when possible, learn from them and try not to repeat them, and apologize for them when necessary.  Obsessing about our errors, they tell me, is counterproductive.  Guilt is a useless emotion.

Along these lines, my serene friends advise me to quit being a perfectionist.  While I always thought that perfection was a noble goal, they remind me that it's also an impossible goal.  They point out that, when I demand perfection of myself, I tend to expect it of others.  And these high expectations make me intolerant, impatient, and all that other nasty stuff that stands between me and peace of mind.

At this point, I sometimes insist that things go wrong even when there's nobody to blame.  How, I ask, can they remain serene when life or circumstance throws a monkey wrench into the works?  My friends are full of what might seem to be cliches.  One, for example, likes to say, "When life hands you a lemon, make lemonade."  Another speaks about "AFGOs," politely defined as "Another Friggin' Growth Opportunity."  They all seem to believe that even the worst circumstances give us opportunities to grow, if only because, by surviving them, we become more confident the next time we face a similar situation.  They're adept at looking at problems as challenges rather than problems.

I usually counter this kind of positive thinking with a barrage of "What ifs" – the possible and probable disasters that could befall me.  Here my friends remind me that I've probably been through hundreds of crises in my life that never happened, that I've worried myself sick about likely events in the future, only to have them turn out altogether differently.  One man told me, "Worrying about things that haven't happened yet is just as destructive as dwelling on things that you cannot undo."  He admitted that we would be fools not to plan for contingencies, but there's a big difference between taking out a life insurance policy and being convinced that we're going to die in the next week or month.

One of my wise friends admits that this is all easier said than done.  In fact, he says that just about anything is easier said than done.  "Hey," he comments, "It's even easier to say, 'Tie your shoe laces' than it is to tie your shoe laces."  However, he claims that one axiom helps him to handle virtually everything:  "One day at a time."  He says that, though some of what he does each day may consist of correcting yesterday's mistakes or making amends for harm done in the past, he refuses to let yesterday ruin today.  In addition, though some of today may involve preparing for tomorrow, he won't let tomorrow spoil the enjoyment of today.  "When the committee in my head starts telling me everything that could go wrong," he says, "I tell it to shut up."

This same person even has a way of coping with those days when everything seems to be going wrong.  "It's a self-fulfilling prophecy," he says.  "Whenever I start having a bad day and become convinced that the whole day is going to be bad, it is bad."  What he does when that happens is to decide to start the day over, whether it's ten in the morning or four in the afternoon.  He says that catching oneself up short, taking a deep breath, and deciding to start over will often turn a bad day into a good one.

All of the people I know who have these sorts of positive attitudes, and the calm that comes with such attitudes, have a sense of humor as well.  By that, I don't mean that they're all ridiculously jolly or a bundle of laughs; they just seem to have a capacity to see the lighter side of everything.  To them, minor aggravations (which can sometimes get me out of joint for hours) become sources of at least mild amusement.  Annoying people make them laugh instead of making them angry.  "What fools we mortals be," they say, including themselves in the human comedy, but they say it whimsically, not scornfully.  To use a phrase much beloved by one of my mentors who died a few years ago, they have learned how "to wear life like a loose garment."

These serene people, from whom I have learned so much, are the least self-centered people I know.  They are confident without being egotistical.  Although they obviously give a great deal of thought to how they handle life themselves, they devote a considerable amount of time to reaching out to others, including – and perhaps especially – those of us who are not as good at it.  These individuals have been, and still are, my teachers in the huge classroom of life.

Sometimes, as I reflect on their lives in comparison to my own, I think that I have not learned very much – at least, not so that I apply it.  At times, I feel that not only these folks but everyone I know is better adjusted than I am.  And then I recall another axiom of these wise men and women:  "Don't compare your insides with other people's outsides."  That's good advice, for few of us can see all the turmoil that others experience inwardly, just as we rarely display our own inner turmoil to them.

When I reflect on what I have learned, therefore, I can compare how I am now to how I once was, and I'm happy to say that I see growth and progress.  Looking back, I see that my life used to revolve almost entirely around excitement, anxiety, or depression.  I can stiil become excited, anxious, or depressed at times, but I am far better balanced and less prone to extremes.  By sharing their perspectives on life, wise men and women have given me perspective.  I am grateful to them for that.  Though I may not yet have become one of them, I can entertain the hope that someday I will – if I remain teachable.