Every 365 days or so, I celebrate at least two New Year’s Days, filled with opportunity and promise. Of the two occasions, the Jewish New Year (Rosh Hashanah in Hebrew) resonates with me as a time of renewal. I spend hours in prayer and reflection, to connect with the Divine and re-align with my life’s purpose.

I can get frustrated if I don’t achieve the spiritual connection I seek, but I keep going back — and not only on holidays. Even if my prayers are not going anywhere, I may be able to help someone else — with my voice, my intention, or my presence. If not, I can at least clean up the kitchen after lunch.

We wish each other a good and sweet year. Happiness is not a goal, although it may be a fortunate result.

Revelry or Reverence

The secular new year is typically celebrated differently, with more revelry and a lot less reverence. I’m not a fan of raucous, alcohol-fueled carousing. It’s not my thing. I’ll be home with my husband, watching the ball drop in Times Square on a three-hour delay. Every year I ask myself: Why are all those people wearing silly hats? And why are they standing outside on a bitter cold night? I lived in New York for decades, and every year I watched the ball drop on TV in a warm, cozy apartment.

But I digress.

I do understand the impulse to celebrate new beginnings.

The New Year can be a time to set aside foolish pursuits and commit to a purposeful, constructive path. That path can be full of twists and turns, and even a relatively smooth path is not without its obstacles. Everyone faces setbacks, loss, and grief. Sometimes we wander off, en route to accomplish some important side goal. Sometimes we detour to pursue a useless distraction that wastes time and energy.

In the long run, as year follows year, the road rises. We rise, too, and we support others on their journeys.

This is my resolution: To follow a path that is paved with kindness and strength —and to help others on the way — to a good and sweet year.