2013 New Year

Happy New Year 2013 - Oh, It's Going to be Grand!

Preface / Introduction

Moving into a New Year brings about Great Opportunities in Life...

Table of Contents
1. Don't make New Year's resolutions for yourself... make them for others. It's easier, more fun, less
trouble.
2. The tattered old year of 2011 limps off and the new year of our collective hope arrives. For this
we need Vienna! We need Strauss II! We need to dance! And so we shall...
3. 'We're starting up a brand new day... I'm thinking in a brand new way.' New Year's Eve. 2012.
Unbidden thoughts.


Don't make New Year's resolutions for yourself... make them
for others. It's easier, more fun, less trouble.
by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
It's the time of the year for the obligatory New Year's resolutions. You know, what I mean:
I plan to go on a diet and become chic and svelte by Valentine's Day.
I will go to the gym every other day, so help me Hannah. Muscles and enticing curves, or bust.
I will eschew the delights of eating one sugar-soaked Little Debbie after another.
I will... but you get the idea.
There is something abhorrent about admitting that you are imperfect. I don't like it at all.
New Year's resolutions imply that you have somehow fallen beneath the high standard of perfection,
that there is something not quite right about you, a nagging something that needs instant attention.
But what could that be?
Like you, I look in the mirror of a morning and, despite advancing age, I see nothing but the spitting
image of one who is, indeed, the fairest of them all. It affronts me to think otherwise.
Thus, while wishing to do my bit to uphold the traditions of Auld Lang Syne and making resolutions,
I find it hard to do so... as I have nothing to improve and everything to enjoy.
Hence this modest idea: give up resolution making for yourself... and focus your full attention upon
the others, lamentable, imperfect, with a pressing need for overhauls small and large.
Draw up a list of persons known to you with glaring, jarring imperfections.
Do not stint. Remember, you are performing a useful act, a noble act, and act of kindness and
empathy. As such, let yourself go... think of your aging peers and their shocking habits... of your
relatives who have outlived the excuse of "puppy fat."
Think of your loud, too boisterous, ear-splitting friends... and the motor-mouths whose decided
opinions on everything under the sun are, perhaps, de trop.
Think of the always-late delivery boy and those with too many unattended felines in a confined
space and the olfactory discomfort thereby occurring.
Think, I say, think of prevaricating politicians... and those with nookie on their minds and an acute
inability to contain it. Look around you and weigh in with a will...for you have many resolutions to
craft and far too little time in which to offer them. Timing is everything, after all, and New Year's
resolutions in March seem, well, tardy. Act now.
Now write the New Year's resolutions -- for others.
This part could be troublesome and demands your full attention and craft. Resolutions must be
simple, straightforward, honest and at least potentially do-able. Thus, calling your insufficiently
loved and abundantly padded brother-in-law fat just won't do. Try this instead:
New Year's resolution of brother-in-law Bob:
To lose 15 pounds by month's end.

http://www.Profit2Riches.com Copyright Lance Sumner - 2013 4 of 13


And then your signature and the date.
Keeping your resolutions short, sweet, and to the point is de rigueur.
Mail the resolution... email the resolution. Only ensure that your kind thought for their betterment
and perfection reaches them early in January.
Imagine how grateful, how pleased the recipient will be when he of pronounced embonpoint
receives this missive and its kind and thoughtful message becomes apparent.
Send your New Year's resolutions even to those near and dear who share your abode and are bosom
buddies and dear companions on your earthly journey.
The temptation, even for those expert and experienced in providing life enhancing New Year's
resolutions for others, will be to personally deliver, message upon hallmarked silver salver, your
resolutions to the people near at hand, spouse, children, impecunious sons in law, etc. You will think
of their profoundly grateful responses, you will think of the affection and love in their eyes. You will
hear with delight words so lavish and abject that even that practised purveyor of the obsequious
Uriah Heep would be put to shame. No, you do not want to miss a moment.
But you must.
For your recipient will need a moment or two to compose himself and, no doubt, let fall the grateful
tear, that you should care so much and have gone to so much bother on their behalf. Allow them a
moment of reflection in privacy, as they think how grateful, how very grateful, they are to have such
a one as you in their (otherwise imperfect) life.
Savor this moment, glass of grog at hand for you have done the very best of deeds. Sing under your
breath this little-remembered chorus from Robert Burns' immortal annual anthem of maudlin
sentimentality, Auld Lang Syne:
"We two have run about the slopes, and picked the daisies fine ; But we've wandered many a weary
foot, since auld lang syne."
And now, gratitude, indeed.
As I was finishing up this practical report, there was a knock at the door... then the telephone rang...
then I noticed a decided up tick in my email. I was not surprised... I was expecting such a deluge.
After all, I had contacted many with a hearty abundance of resolutions, necessary, specific, in depth,
all resoundingly honest to a fault. Now, no doubt, the expected responses, the epistles of gratitude
and fulsome thanks were at hand.
Ou la la!
Imagine my surprise upon reading the first of these messages:
New Year's Resolution of Dr. Jeffrey Lant...:
signed
your loving sister
Then the one signed by my (concerned) brother, my (worried) father, one jointly signed by my (still
affectionate) niece and nephew, my (who-else-could-tell-you?) best friend, my (long suffering)
partners... even my (silent-until-now) driver and his wife.. .and all the very many others.
It was jolting to be sure to learn that so many felt so strongly there was so much of me to enhance



and correct. But these messages, profoundly honest, stimulated the only New Year's resolution I
shall make this year: to love them all, warts and all, and be profoundly glad I have them in my life.
Happy New Year, 2011!



The tattered old year of 2011 limps off and the new year of
our collective hope arrives. For this we need Vienna! We
need Strauss II! We need to dance! And so we shall...
by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author's program note. 2011. Not just a year or a moment in time. Rather, a collage of images that
run the gamut from horrid to catastrophic. Except for lovers (who after all "Only have eyes for you,
dear" and can always block out the world and its woes) this year will be hardly anyone's best year.
Haven't we all seen better days? But the best of this disgruntling year is at hand... its end...
And so, to mark the exit of this draining period of our human existence on our Third Rock from the
Sun, I propose... and expect you to do your part.... a Grand Ball. An event! Brilliant! Epochal!
Soul-stirring! Memorable from first to last.... and let's not forget, graced by every friend you've ever
known and loved... food to die for (how did they know you harbored a secret fancy for Veuve
Cliquot?) and of course the music that you will play for a lifetime whenever you think of this night!
And of the music of Johann Strauss II who kept a doomed world dancing... even when life was
hardly worth living. Such a man with such gifts is more than welcome at the human comedy... he is
essential; and I have commanded his presence just for you.
That is why you must now go to any search engine and play the overture to "Die Fledermaus." You
will find many fine versions. Your biggest problem this day will be selecting your favorite
rendition... don't worry. They're all delightful... lilting... all fraught with love... adventures... and a
world without a wrinkle or a regret. Don't be late now.... your coach and six is awaiting... and the
great imperial capital of Vienna -- with all its splendor -- is just outside your front door...!
Vienna, 1874.
I have found in my soon-to-be-65 years, that to know where you are -- at all times -- is a very good
thing. And so, I introduce you not just to a city but to an idea. For more than a place, this city of
cities was a notion. Other European sovereigns were part of dynasties that had capitals. But Vienna,
only Vienna, was the home of an exalted family that had its own capital and an empire to go with it.
This family was the Habsburgs... and Vienna was their pied-a-terre. Over time this family had added
lands, lost lands, traded lands, becoming less Italian, more Magyar and Slavic, but always (even
when you were stealing from them, as their neighbors regularly, flagrantly, unashamedly did)
absolutely necessary to the prosperity, balance, and serenity of a Europe these Habsburgs understood
better than anyone and which they graced and venerated.
1874 was a good year for these landlords of Europe... whilst it is true they had added nothing to their
valuable patrimony; neither, and -- this is the key -- had they lost anything or anyone of any
importance either. And this to the Emperor Franz Joseph and his people was reason enough to
celebrate; they had survived, and that to a Habsburg was something to cheer. For, after all, His
Imperial and Apostolic Majesty (who was to become by the time of his extinction in 1917 the longest
reigning sovereign in all of the European history his own family had done so much to make)
believed with all his people, especially the true Viennese, that things were Significant, but not
Important... and surely not as important as the next waltz from Herr Strauss... the man who kept this
magic, unreal world entranced and dancing and so was crucial to the lives of all.
"I beg of you. Do not, lieber sohn. become a composer. Do not, I entreat you, throw your life away
on dance music."
Johann Strauss II was born October 5, 1825, the son of Johann Strauss I, celebrated composer and
conductor of dance music, a man who knew the (usually short) ups and (certainly the longer) downs



conductor of dance music, a man who knew the (usually short) ups and (certainly the longer) downs
of a musician's life only too well... and wished to shield his dear son from these wearing vicissitudes
of a musician's life... and become instead that most unappealing of things.... a banker. But fate won
out. One stolid banker the less there would most assuredly be... instead a million memorable
evenings to warm the cockles of your heart forever. Yes, Strauss made the right decision. A lifetime
of unadulterated pleasure for the whole world was the result.
1874 was a key year in his life and his repertoire, and it came with a musical called "Die
Fledermaus," The Bat.
It was the compilation of comedies and farces by the German playwright Julius Roderich Benedix,
French writers Henry Meilhac and Ludovic Halevy, and a translation by Karl Haffner. There were,
in short, too many cooks for this broth, and an explosive crop of.... egos, titanic, uncompromising,
silly the lot of them, unless you must work with them like Strauss, who needed the patience and
skills of a diplomat, so that his unmistakable genius could be born and dazzle. Had he been a banker
with such skills he would have been an investor's dream come true.
Instead he was working as fast as his nimble brain could work, composing music which, I earnestly
hope, thrilled him as surely as it thrills us; which caused him to throw back his head and laugh aloud
at his own fertile talent... and to pick up a chair or his wife and dance the latest captivating waltz
which had been until a minute ago in his own head alone and was now written down and secure,
soon to set the feet of this weary planet to dancing... every man, woman, and child, even that odd
duck Crown Prince Rudolph (who sought in self-induced death the ecstasies even an empire could
not deliver), all these were set to waltzing -- yes, even Rudolph -- by Strauss, Johann Strauss, the
Master of waltz tempo... who composed the love which cannot fail when you are in the arms of your
beloved, whirring ardently to a blissful destiny.
April 5, 1874, Theater an der Wien.
In due course, "Die Fledermaus" was finished, neither French nor German nor even Austrian. It was
as quintessentially Viennese as Vienna's Golden Boy could make it... It is bright, cheerful,
distinguished by one memorable tune after another. It had masks (and no city needed them more
than Vienna which was only happy when in costume, looking back and reminiscing), false identifies,
spurious titles, and an effervescence even greater than the champagne which Strauss' alchemy
changed from mere wine into a musical vintage which intoxicated but skipped the dreaded morning
after. This was a vintage indeed... and on April 5, 1874 it opened at the Theater an der Wien...
.... And has had absolutely no difficulty in getting into our hearts ever since... but especially on New
Year's Eve, for it has long since claimed its unshakable place on the calendar of things which must
be done annually, and always just so.
That is why on this New Year's Eve I shall have the pleasure to enjoy, yet again, the misadventures
of Gabriel von Eisenstein, his incompetent attorney Dr. Blind; Eisenstein's maid Adele, Prince
Orlofsky and Falke, Eisenstein's friend, and all the other characters, all immortal because of the
genius of one man who disobeyed his father and became the toast of Europe; a man who knew that
the waltz, more than any Fountain of Youth, is what keeps us young, optimistic, recharging each of
us (and not a moment too soon) to face not just 2012 (with all that it brings) but of all the other New
Years to come.
And now, I advise you to do what I am about to... starting my evening of good friends, good food,
and yes of the Veuve Cliquot I crave... with Adele's celebrated "Laughing Song". In a moment you'll
be smiling; a moment more you'll be dancing...
Happy New Year, from your author.... and from my esteemed Worldprofit colleagues George Kosch



and Sandi Hunter, so dear to me, I could not have had better people to have danced with for so many
years.
*** What are your thoughts on 2012, we invite your comments below.



'We're starting up a brand new day... I'm thinking in a brand
new way.' New Year's Eve. 2012. Unbidden thoughts.
by Dr. Jeffrey Lant.
Author's program note. All of a sudden there was a bone-chilling gust of frigid air right off the
punishing Atlantic filling the night... it was the kind of gust we here in Cambridge call the Montreal
Express... not merely cold but gelid, polar, arctic... than which there is nothing colder but the
morning after the greatest love of your life said good-bye, this time for good.
Shivering, I had to get up... present reality, even though freezing, being preferable to another minute
of the dream being played out sharply in cinemascope in my brain. In it I was marrying Hillary
Clinton, and we were redecorating my condo as our love nest after a cosmic flood. Yikes, it was
indeed time for this article... and the music for it came swiftly out of no where saying, " I think
you've been looking for me." And indeed I had...
I was smiling.... this was how Marley (in clanking chains of course) summoned Scrooge to his
destiny... and look what happened to them. I'm a literary gent, and I appreciated the reference... and
this song by Gordon Matthew Thomas Sumner, born October 2 1951, known to the world by his
sobriquet "Sting", a name, a description, a declaration, a clear statement of what you must do when
the world is too much with you late and soon. Yes, that Sting.
I don't think much about Sting. I'm not a rabid fan or anything close, but he's got the poet's own way
of insinuating himself into my life at significant moments. His words are often mine fields, often
verbal shrapnel, the kinds of words one fastidious word smith appreciates in another who like you
demands respect for the language and mastery from himself.
Cold reality.
My hands are cold... my fingers are stiff. It is 3:25 a.m., and Sting and his lyrical insights, melodic,
as deep as you want them to go, fill the crucial space between two ears. I am listening, because here
is a man who has something important to say to me, about the year now past, about you and me, and
how we're glad to be alive and give thanks to whoever made it possible. The song is called "Brand
New Day" and I hadn't heard it since it debuted in 1999, just in time for the new millennium.
I remember hearing this song in this very room, where I sat at this very desk in this very chair as I
watched the clock move inexorably to the first midnight of the new century, the Y2K midnight that
was supposed to bring cosmic computer chaos, so admonishing experts had told us. And so I, like so
many others, worried myself into the new year, following the advent of midnight around the globe...
only to discover that nothing happened anywhere... the biggest "same old, same old" ever. Yes, I
was listening to this song that night. It couldn't really be so many years ago, could it? Go now and
find it in any search engine and listen carefully....
"There's simply no immunity/There's no guarantee."
2012. I lived it. Which is to say I was alone, I was together, I made money. I squandered money. I
lied. I deceived. I was cruel. I was affectionate. I made messes and ignored them. I cleaned up
messes made by others who ignored them.
I cursed. I adored. I slept the sleep of the just. I just barely slept at all. I did random good deeds... I
insulted those who meant me well. I hugged strangers... and ignored those nearest and dearest. I ate
too much cake... and told others they shouldn't eat cake at all, then ate theirs.
I knew the bite of the flesh... I abjured God... then went in panicked search of Him all over again. I



was magnificent. I was squalid. I was the best of friends and the most unrelenting and tenacious of
foes.
I demanded mercy and gave none. I wanted to make a difference and the difference I made was
miniscule and negative. I ate without savor. I loved without passion and thought well of myself
when there was not a single reason for so much conceit. I always took the easy way and had the
temerity to tell others they must sacrifice when I would not. I took, always took, more than my
share and bellowed that it was not more. I winked at injustice until I became an injustice.
I hated. I condemned. I demeaned. I disdained. I hurt whenever possible and denied whenever
feasible. I exulted in the misfortunes of others and laid the burden of mine at the feet of God
Almighty whose name in vane passed often through my lips.
I chose to misunderstand when understanding was facile... and blamed everyone but me on what was
so readily apparent to others but willfully ignored by me. And yet I never lost the deep belief that I
was a hero to others, a paragon to myself.
I was all this and more, I did all this and more in the tiniest morsel of time we call one year ... as if it
was something that could be neatly boxed and neatly understood. But even now this year, waning,
its end in sight, abides... with possibilities still to come before it is played out, kaput, history we are
glad to dispose of and forget, as if forgetting was even an option. It isn't.
"Turn the clock all the way back."
How many hours of 2012, how many hours of your life have you now wasted wishing you could
regain even a single moment of time, to live it, savor it, even the most commonplace of activities? It
is natural to think so for our system is profoundly exasperating... you lived that moment. It is yours.
You want it back. You must have it back. And so you expostulate against your fate, the inevitability
that defines us. You must go forward, only forward, never back no matter how badly you want it.
and you know how badly that is.
Right this minute, the sands of time are escaping through your open hands, hands you long to close
and stop the inexorable... but you cannot close them. And so, you experience the pain of certain loss
that defines each of us in a world that we live in, are destroying, but cannot stop and enjoy without
anxiety.
Each word you now read here takes you into a future that challenges us, a future we must engage
whether we want to or not. We stand alone before eternity... and it frightens us to our very core. That
is why next year, the year after that. and all the next years to come you will fail to stand tall and
courageous before the vast immensity we call The Future and why instead we will take what comfort
we can from what our species is most expert at doing: dissipation, distraction, diversion, self
destruction.
Only by such devices can we face that which most concerns us... and so we are profligate about the
time which constitutes our essence. Sic semper gloria mundi.
The only resolution that matters.
At this moment of peril for each of us, all of us, for our planet and our Cosmos, for our very God,
what are we offering to change our course and destiny? Some opt for trivial resolutions about
increased exercise and ways to diminish pounds. Others still seize upon any one or two of a myriad
of possibilities to improve themselves, all petit, inconsequential, trifling, insignificant. Is this the
best we can do against the daunting, monumental challenges we face? We must do better. And what
better time to begin than now as a new year signals the commencement of a brand new day?



What then must we resolve and do? Just one thing: Love. For in this single thing there is everything
and everyone. Where we dismissed and condemned... we must love. Where we demeaned and
destroyed.... we must love. Where we insulted and hated... we must love. Where we divided and
estranged.... we must love. And where we worked to rend asunder and alienate... we must love.
" 'Love is pain,' I hear you say/Love has a cruel and bitter way of Paying you back for all the faith
you ever had in your brain."
But it's the only and certain way to start up the brand new day that dawns radiant this very day.



Resource
About The Author Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., where small and
home-based businesses learn how to profit online. Attend Dr. Lant's live webcast TODAY and
receive 50,000 free guaranteed visitors to the website of your choice! Dr. Lant is also the author of
18 best-selling books.
Republished with author's permission by Lance Sumner http://Profit2Riches.com.


2013 New Year

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2013 New Year