Dear 43 Things Users,

10 years after introducing 43 Things to the world, we have decided we have met our last goal: completing the incredible experience that has been 43 Things. Please join us in giving one last cheer to all the folks who have shared their goals with the world, as well as all the people who have worked at The Robot Co-op to build this incredible website. We won a Webby Award, published a book, and brought happiness to a lot of people.

Starting today, 43 Things users can export their goals and entries from the site. Starting August 15, we will make the site “read only”. 43 Things users will still be able to view the site and export their content, but we won’t be taking any new content from users. We hope to leave the site up for folks to see and download their content until the end of the year. Ending on New Year’s Eve takes us full circle.

It has been a long ride (one of our original goals was to "build a company that lasts at least 2 years” - we beat that one!) While we wish the site could live on, it has suffered from a number of challenges - changes in how people use the site, the advertising industry, and how search engines view the site. We wish the outcome was different – but we’ve always been realistic about when our goals are met and when they aren't.

As of today, you will be able to download your goals and entries. See more about that on the FAQ page. Thanks for 10 great years of goal-setting and achieving.

- The Robots.

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FAQ

Lisa in Chicago is doing 38 things including…

Share in NaPoWriMo 2012

6 cheers

 

Lisa has written 14 entries about this goal

I began a goal for dail poetry

here. If anyone would like to join me here, please, feel free! :)



Same direction

I’m headed over there.
I wouldn’t stop and I keep up this
travail. They knew I would do this.



I heart you

To love here is like
allowing all elements
in and trusting that

only the right ones
will enter. Adventuring
forth, we remove our

socks and play footsy
with destiny, as ready
as we’ll ever be.



So Purkh #3

Ambivalent and
confused and requiring a
healing through the dark

and mysterious
side door of a foreign tongue.
I grazed the roof of

my mouth like a tabla
drum, ta, ta, and tha. Sit
still or lay down, and

occasionally,
I sleep through it and
let the words wash me.



So Purkh #2

I chant here; the floor,
a red yoga mat. I face
towards the window,

an ochre-leaved tree
gazing in, bringing peace to
all prayers and wishes.

Breathe in and begin
again in Gurmukhi. What I’m
saying is less true

than the tip of my
tongue that touches the roof of
my mouth for 40 days.



So Purkh #1

Primal one, there is
no other than you; breathe in.
Chant eleven times

until time dissolves
and the thirty-one minutes
is up. Only you.



Ode to Faye Dunaway

Faye Dunaway
is the bomb and a
textbook Capricorn,

great bones, aging well;
a very classy dame. Born
in a one horse town,

moved north to bless us
all, including J. Geil’s Band’s
leader, Peter Wolf.



Fortunate Forgetting

Defeated, my heart
broke and fixed right up again.
I ventured again,

scuffed knees, bruised head, an
abraded torso. Wounded
over coffee and

cake, and drinks. Little
umbrellas shattered and left
behind on the flat

table’s surface, pink
and yellow and once grazing
a beautiful dish.



Sharing a burrito bowl at Chipotle

Sublime we are as
we stand in line waiting to
order our lunch. You look

down at me and smile.
You hug me close and ask if
I feel loved. I do.

The sky outside the
window is sky blue, like a
sky fully in the

present, clutterfree,
cloudless. I squint at
the sunshine waiting

politely outside.
We sit facing each other
and eat from our bowl.



Cellphone lament

I catch my breath in
anticipation that my
last few words may not

be heard. A text comes
in, takes precedence, and my
tender sentence hangs

in suspense, but the
moment changed rhythm, and the
words got caught inside.



Lisa has gotten 6 cheers on this goal.

 

I want to:
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