January’s Experience

Holding presence while the future unfolds

January is a very interesting time of year. There is a distinct energy in the air, one that seems to say, “Pay attention. You have things to do. Let’s look at all the ways you could improve your life.” It feels almost like a wake-up call, even though many of the things asking for attention have been there all along. For reasons that are partly cultural and perhaps partly cyclical, this season invites us to take stock and decide what needs care in our lives. Life Notes is exploring this theme of staying oriented, as this month’s Muse goes into further detail. January is not a travel month for us. We may take a short weekend trip to go skiing or visit friends elsewhere in Colorado, but most of this month is spent at home. While January naturally pulls our attention toward planning and future thinking, our culture often adds an unspoken pressure to “figure things out,” which can quietly turn into resistance or anxiety. I’ve begun to notice when my nervous system tries to grab my attention with a sense of urgency, and I’m learning to recognize that signal as an invitation to ground myself rather than respond to a call that feels urgent but isn’t actually necessary.

The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance; the wise grows it under his feet. 

–James Oppenheim

Big Snow Year in Colorado, Winter 2019, Leadville, CO Photo by Wendy Stieg

There is an old adage that warns how easily the mind can trick us into believing a planned journey is already over before it has even begun. It’s a reminder to slow down rather than rush ahead, to remember that savoring life also includes the moments before the thing you are planning actually arrives. That can be surprisingly difficult, because one of the oldest unhappiness traps is the belief that “when I get there, then I’ll be happy,” a way of postponing your own well-being by making it conditional on some future outcome. Planning is necessary, especially in January, and it serves an important purpose. But life and its quiet, meaningful experiences do not pause while plans are being formed. This space of anticipation is not a holding pattern or a lesser chapter. Your life is not empty or on standby during this time. What I’m coming to understand is that this season, right now, is an experience in itself.

View from Salida, CO. Photo by Wendy Stieg

Something I keep coming back to is the reminder that life has never been fully predictable. And when I really think about it, I wouldn’t want it to be. I am an adventurer at heart, and that has always meant taking risks and accepting that sometimes things won’t work out. Over the course of my life, I’ve navigated plenty of situations that didn’t unfold as planned, and I’ve learned that I can handle far more than I once believed. Even the most ordinary systems break down at times. Buses run late. Businesses are closed when they should be open. And occasionally, the thing you absolutely need to do simply cannot get done. We can spend our energy imagining everything that might go wrong, or we can expect most things to go right and trust ourselves to respond when they don’t. I know I can rely on myself in challenging moments, because I’ve lived through them before and found my way forward. Two things are true at the same time: It is not up to me to fix everything, and I can meet situations as they arise and respond effectively. That knowledge has become a quiet source of trust.

Leadville in Summer, Annual Visitors.

Photo by Wendy Stieg

Right now, in our lives, we are facing some real challenges. Each of them opens the door to multiple possible futures. One thing I keep reminding myself is that the future is not fact. It is made up of possibilities, and whatever we imagine will happen rarely unfolds exactly that way, whether for better or worse. Still, the human tendency to label what lies ahead is strong. In truth, we are always living with multiple potential futures, whether we acknowledge it or not. It is easy to get pulled around by your mind when you start projecting yourself into those imagined outcomes, but they are just that, imagined. Recognizing this helps bring me back to what is actually being asked of me right now. It allows me to make plans and then give those plans room to evolve, rather than trying to force a specific outcome. This has never been easy for me, but the more I trust that things tend to work out, the more I can trust the timing of life without needing clarity on every single point.

My logical mind understands this, but my emotional mind needs a different kind of attention. When I don’t recognize how it operates, my nervous system tends to label uncertainty, difficulty, or challenge as danger. That is what it was designed to do. It is trying to keep me safe. But as I sit here typing, there is no real threat in this moment. Other than my thoughts, nothing urgent is actually happening. I’m learning to remember that my emotional, fight-or-flight system can make imagined threats feel very real, even when they aren’t. This is simply my non-logical mind trying to get my attention. There is an important difference between threat and challenge. There is no tiger lurking around the corner, waiting to pounce. There are meaningful challenges in our lives right now, but none that we won’t eventually be able to work through. Remembering this allows me to stay present, rather than bracing myself against an outcome that hasn’t even arrived.

Avalanche Above Frisco, CO, Winter 2019. Photo by Wendy Stieg

View for the Gorge Amphitheater, George, WA

Photo by Wendy Stieg

So what can we do in January? We do have a lot of areas of our lives needing attention. I know that in order to stay centered, grounded and effective at navigating the uncertainty while moving forward, there are things we can do to balance how much time we spend planning without future tripping. For me, knowing we have those little mini weekends, or recognizing some of our free time can be in Staycation mode, gives me the space to be able to set the plans, the anticipation and the anxiety down. That then allows me to shift anxiety into action when it is necessary and appropriate. This means it is possible to let go of your thinking mind, to give it some rest, without abandoning your responsibilities. Staying grounded is an ongoing choice, not a destination. It’s how you stay with your life while it rearranges itself.

January, I’m learning, is a practice rather than a pause. Experience does not wait until you arrive somewhere else or reach a particular goal. It begins much earlier, in the moments when you learn how to stay with yourself while things are still forming. Trusting that this season is doing important work allows me to move forward without rushing toward resolution. And perhaps this way of being does not end once the journey actually begins. Maybe it travels with you. When you do reach a destination or a long-held goal, you can meet it the same way, slowing down, allowing it to unfold naturally, and fully inhabiting the experience as it happens. Orientation, not certainty, is what makes that possible.

Sunset at The Gorge Amphitheater, George, WA Photo by Wendy Stieg