As the new year of 2025 on the Gregorian calendar approaches, the air fills with the scent of possibilities—new goals, new dreams, new chapters. Many of us begin to think about what we want the next year to look like, and start making promises to ourselves about getting fit, eating healthier, or spending more time with loved ones.
But for others, such ambitions are met with skepticism—and not without reason. For many years, I set New Year’s resolutions that barely made it past February. Whether it was going vegan, exercising more, or cursing less (you know, shit like that), my initial zeal quickly faded. By March, I often couldn’t even remember what I had resolved to do anymore.
When I came to Armenia in the beginning of January 2021, I was alone, knowing next to nobody, with plenty of time to myself. I can still vividly recall the night after my arrival, sitting solo in my Airbnb with takeaway dolma and a glass of wine, ready to give the yearly tradition another shot. But instead of writing “New Year’s resolutions” at the top of a fresh page in my notebook, I accidentally wrote “New Year’s revolutions.”
Instead of correcting the “v” to an “s” or starting over on a new page, I paused and stared at the word, finding it strangely apt. Was this a Freudian slip? A sign from the Universe? (Okay, I was on my second glass of wine). But what if I approached my resolutions as revolutions? What would that mean in practical terms?
Well, what exactly is a revolution? It is about radical, fundamental change, aiming to alter the existing order in an enduring way. In political contexts, a revolution often involves overthrowing a government or societal structure to establish a whole new system that shifts the norms, policies, and power dynamics. The essence of a revolution is the depth and permanence of that change.
In the case of Armenia, the term “revolution” is used liberally to describe the change that followed widespread protests in 2018. However, as with many revolutions, criticism arises when the visible outcomes don’t seem to match the initial aspirations. Critics might argue that while there are new faces in leadership, many of the underlying structures, systemic issues, and institutional frameworks remain intact, suggesting a rather superficial transformation. For a movement to be truly revolutionary, it needs to do more than just replace leaders and update some policies. It requires a deep rethinking and restructuring of the systems in place—economic, social, legal, and cultural—to reflect new values and ideals.
What would that mean on a personal level? In essence, it means not just aspiring to different behaviors but fundamentally transforming our approach to certain aspects of our lives and ourselves. It’s a profound, radical change, overthrowing our old ways of doing things and ushering in a new regime of habits and attitudes.
But unlike the grand historical revolutions that might end with sudden overthrows or even beheadings of monarchies, the big changes in our own habits or behaviors typically start with small, almost imperceptible steps. Personal revolutions don’t tend to succeed if they come with much fanfare; they build quietly through daily efforts and small decisions that, over time, accumulate into major metamorphoses.
On this, James Clear’s insights in Atomic Habits offer fantastic guidance on the power of small changes. He advocates that success doesn’t hinge on one massive alteration but on many tiny improvements over time. Instead of aiming for a sweeping revolution overnight, he suggests laying the groundwork with atomic, manageable adjustments that collectively lead to substantial results. His book was instrumental in shaping my new, revolutionary approach to meeting and surpassing my yearly goals.
While pondering my accidental yet fortuitous typo that fateful night, glass of Areni in hand and inspired by my new surroundings in a post-Velvet, yet still unsettled Armenia, I penned ten goals for the year, treating each as a personal uprising—a declaration of war against the complacency that had taken over my life.
And it finally started to work.
That year marked the beginning of a true “New Year, New Me.” I resigned from my UN job, began writing and getting published, and converted my international human rights work into a sustainable model that now allows me to be based permanently in Armenia. I found my voice and my calling, and each year since has brought new and more fulfilling experiences than I could have ever imagined.
Now, each year as the Earth completes its revolution around the sun, I set ten new revolutions of my own, achieving most, if not all, of them. I think about how to next revolt against those parts of myself that need to go, guillotining anything that no longer serves me or holds me back. I also consider what new elements I should adopt or introduce to grow, improve, and evolve—what’s going to propel me to the next level. Each goal I then settle on becomes a battle cry for reinvention.
If you see your life as a play, consider each year as the next act. Or perhaps, in the spirit of the French, the next republic. Make the constitutional amendments necessary to reach your highest potential. When setting your goals for this coming year, choose those that truly matter and then pursue them relentlessly. Skip the vague or trivial ones—you know, like “cursing less.” And whatever it is you set out to do, whether atomic or revolutionary, don’t do it half-assed. Do it like you mean it, like your life depends on it—because it does.
Revolutions are sparked by the bold and sustained by the brave. May this year be yours.
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Listen to Sheila’s personal reading of “New Year’s Revolutions”.
Sheila Paylan is an international human rights lawyer and former legal advisor to the United Nations. Now based in Yerevan, she regularly consults for a variety of international organizations, NGOs, think tanks, and governments.
