It isn’t always what we expect that meets us first.
Sometimes it’s simply what is.
It’s January.
The calendar has turned. The numbers are new.
And yet most things feel… pretty much the same.
Maybe we’re supposed to feel something else now. More momentum. More clarity. Perhaps even a small spark.
Most people don’t.
January rarely arrives like a portal. It comes more like a room. A room with ceilings a little too high, walls a little too quiet — and coffee that goes cold before you get around to drinking it.
And that’s perfectly fine.
When expectations run ahead of us
There’s a strange idea that January is the beginning of everything.
As if something is meant to loosen automatically the moment we write a new year.
For some, that happens.
For many, it doesn’t.
Instead, there’s the after-echo.
A body still carrying December. Thoughts that haven’t quite found their place yet.
Feelings that never got the memo that it’s a “new year.”
And maybe that isn’t a problem. Maybe it’s information.
Transitions take time (and care very little about dates)
In fairy tales, transitions often take the shape of forests, doors, or long roads.
None of them are in a hurry.
Real life isn’t so different. Transitions rarely move in step with the calendar. They happen when something inside us is ready — or at least willing.
Sometimes that means:
🌿 being a little quieter than usual
🌿 pulling back just a bit
🌿 listening before deciding
It may not look impressive. But it’s often where something important begins.
When there’s no plan (and that’s a plan too)
It’s easy to believe that a lack of direction means we’re lost.
Often it simply means we’re learning to orient ourselves again.
Children do this all the time. They stop. Look. Test. Step back.
Adults aren’t worse at it — we’re just better at pretending we aren’t doing it.
Stories already know this
Fairy tales have always understood something adults tend to forget:
That what looks like stillness is often ripening.
That the hero rarely knows what the next step will be.
That doubt, waiting, and hesitation aren’t mistakes — they’re part of the journey.
Maybe that’s why we’re drawn to stories right now. Not to get answers, but to be held for a while as we wait.
So what do we do, then?
We do a little less.
We listen a little more.
And we let January be what it is.
A between-space. Not a test.
Maybe that’s enough for now.
There’s no rush.
There rarely ever was.