Rosh Hashana is coming up. You want to change. You’re ready to change.

Let’s be honest: It’s been a rough year. You’ve done things that you’re less than proud of. You’ve said some things you regret. You don’t want to be that person anymore. New year, new you. You feel inspired to change. You feel ready to become who you’re meant to be. Put on that cape, it’s time to be a superhero.

If only it were that easy.

The initial spark of inspiration feels great. It feels empowering and thrilling. Nothing can stop you. Like a sugar rush, it courses through your veins and temporarily changes your entire being. You’ve got this.

That it, until you don’t got this.

You feel great for about a week—the changes don’t seem as scary as you thought they would. You feel good about yourself. You feel strong. You’re on top of the world! You’ll never be the same again.

But then, something goes wrong. Because something always has to go wrong. And then what? You’re down in the dumps. You feel silly and useless. Why bother. Why try to change if the roadblocks will only get in the way.

Roadblocks are there to stop you. You know this. And yet, when you face them, it feels so much easier to give up than try to walk around them. Or over them. Or limbo under.

It’s time to hitchhike back to where you began and try again.

Oof.

Who has time for this?

Not me.

(Lets try again anyway).

There are two ways to approach inspiration: Externally or internally. You can become inspired by something you read, by a sunset, by your teachers and peers. That’s external. It’s all nice and dandy and fluffy. The second step requires taking that thing that made your head spin with excitement and giving it a home. It’s about taking that thing from outside and making it a part of you so that it doesn’t float away. It can’t float away if it lives within you.

Inspiration is like remodeling a house. You purchase a house, draw up a blueprint, and get to work. You’re excited, you’re hopeful, you’re happy. But then, construction begins. The house is a disaster. The construction crew is cranky, and the work takes ten times longer than expected. Half way through, you find yourself wishing that you had bought a condo on an exotic Island, far away from your home and the headache it’s causing. Ah.

That initial spark can only last so long. And when it’s gone, what will you have left? Empty wishes and pipes in the wrong places.

This is not about an external shift. Let’s be honest: External shifts rarely last. They feel good—light and fluffy. External shifts are like ice cream cones; something sweet and tasty that melts in five minutes.

You, dear, are not an ice cream cone.

The commitment to change is a commitment to yourself. That doesn’t make it easy. In fact, it makes it quite difficult. Changing will mean having to face the parts of yourself that you don’t particularly like. It’s that moment when you look at the blueprint and realize that you strongly dislike the very aspect of your house that had caused you to love it in the first place.

The Hebrew word that is often associated with ‘decision making’ is החלתה. Loosely translated, it means to apply. Making a decision requires a matter of applying something new to your life.

A decision is an experiment for the soul.

Decisions of change are, at their core, nothing but more a shift in consciousness. A new awareness. A fresh idea. A seed, planted into the ground of your mind, ready for growth.

When you make a decision to change something in your life, what you’re really doing is turning yourself into a construction zone.

Listen. It will be messy. It will take longer than expected. There will be days where you really, really want to give up, scrap the blueprint, throw all your work in the trash and go back to being the same old you.

Which is okay too.

Once you’re on the journey, however, it won’t be so simple to just turn around. You’re different now. You’ve changed. Your fixtures are different. Your walls are thicker. Your foundation is stronger. You can never go back to being who you were before.

When can you finally claim the inspiration as your own? When the house is done. When the work—which though difficult proved to be worth it—is complete, and you can safely and securely dwell in your new place of residence. When the inspiration becomes apart of you, when it shifts your behavior and changes you at your core, you know you’ve come home.

Walk in, turn on the lights, take your shoes off, inhale that ‘new home’ scent…make yourself a cup of tea, and make yourself comfortable on the couch. Exhale. Welcome home.

Now the real work begins.