Good intentions: we all know a thing or two about those little buggers, don’t we? Something about a road to hell? Yes (*heavy sigh*). We’ve all paved a few miles on the road to our fiery futures.

I’m less concerned about our well-paved roads to hell than I am about the emotional cost of our good-intentions-on-ice. Because we know there’s a price we pay for every idea we press the snooze button on, right? We know there’s a cost for every intention we get giddy about and then abandon?

To be clear, I’m not entirely delusional. I realize that many—most—ideas will never see the light of day, and this isn’t a bad thing (especially with ideas like Apple Cider Donut Oreos). Some flavors, and ideas, insist upon being buried alive.

Life’s short (4,000 Mondays—chop chop!) and we can’t pressure ourselves to execute on all of our fanciful notions. Giving a green light to even a fraction of our amazing ideas sounds impossible and exhausting and the opposite of the good life we’re all hoping to get a taste of in our 4,000 week stint.

But what about our intentions that matter in some way? What about the things we started, really enjoyed, and then stopped . . . because of no good reason at all . . . other than life doing its thing and getting in the way? Other than us getting swept up in the busy season at work, or falling out of the habit, or being a bit intimidated to get back on the horse?

Some intentions come and go with little fanfare, but we all know about the ones that give us that little twingle when we think about it—that niggling indication that there is still a pulse, even a faint one, worth resuscitating.

At some point we’ll talk about intentions we haven’t taken ANY action on yet (dreams in utero?) but for today let’s toss ourselves a softball and just deal with the ideas we’ve already given birth to. They’re there for the taking!

I encourage us to forgive ourselves for falling off the Intention Wagon, and then just get back up on it where we left it.

So what are the things you maybe started and didn’t finish? Where do you need to rekindle an idea that still has signs of life? What intentions are gathering dust in your life?

• Your accordion? (Or any other hobby you picked up and then got sidetracked from enjoying.)
• Your golf clubs? (It’s okay to suck for a while as you re-learn your swing.)
• Your novel? (The one you started writing . . . but I suppose this could also include the one(s) on your bedside table that you keep meaning to come back to.)
• Your treadmill? (Treadmill manufacturers know they are built to never be used past the initial 5-week “wheee! I’m gonna get so fit!” high, FYI, so maybe don’t feel so bad about this one.)
• Your online classes? (Or any other “learning and development” thing you used to do and enjoy—like those MOOCs, book clubs, or any other self-guided curriculum on whatever topic rivets you.)
• Your outdoor fire pit? (This entry is for me . . . we have this cute little fire pit where I fantasized about toasting marshmallows on the regular, but it sits looking pretty and pristine, taunting me in its rarely-used-ness).
• Your air fryer? (The thing you had so many recipes lined up to make inside of—dinners that would make your taste buds AND arteries happy with you at the same time. Any other kitchen appliances or gadgets worth blowing the dust off of?)
• Your passport? (I know of no humans not interested in going somewhere.)
• Your friendships? (The relationships with friends you used to enjoy spending time with, but maybe fell out of the habit of seeing because of The Worldwide Plague or any other distraction—like having kids, moving one town over, or leaving the company where you all used to go out after work for happy hour.)
• Your plans to move? (Somewhere warm? Back to your hometown after all these years away? ANYWHERE away from your hometown? Into an assisted living center? To Portugal?)

It’s never too late to blow the dust off the hobby/ plan/ idea you once started. Half-baked ideas are already one half of the way there. Why not give the original intention another go? We all deserve that delicious feeling of satisfaction that comes from getting back up on the wagon—that feeling like we’ve listened to ourselves and are willing to live like we mean it. Minus the Apple Cider Donut-flavored anything.