Starting the Year Soft
I was taught to start strong. This year, I’m choosing soft instead.
I am terrible with directions. Truly terrible. My husband likes to joke that if I’m ever lost, I should pick a direction and then immediately turn around — because I’m almost always headed the opposite of correct. It’s funny because it’s true, but it’s also a little alarming. Here’s the part that is scary, and that I don’t usually say out loud: When I feel lost or unsure of where to go, I panic. Not always dramatically. Sometimes it’s quiet, and internal. But that rising urgency in my head to pick a direction, move, or do something, shows up fast. And without fail, that panic makes everything worse.
I choose the wrong path, move too quickly, and miss important cues. Panic has never once helped me find my way.
What makes this ironic is that I’m an outdoorswoman. I love wide-open spaces, big skies, mountains, trails, and time spent far from paved paths, and alone. Being outside is where I feel most like myself. In the backcountry, getting disoriented isn’t just uncomfortable, it can get you into real trouble. When you’re tired, cold, or unsure, the instinct is to keep moving. To convince yourself that forward motion alone will solve the problem. But anyone who spends time outdoors knows this truth: Moving without orientation can take you farther from safety. The smartest thing you can do when you’re unsure of your bearings is stop. Slow your breathing, look around, check your map, take note of landmarks, and reorient yourself before you choose a direction.
That pause can be the difference between a long story you laugh about later — and something much more serious.
January Has a Way of Making Us Panic
I think January does this to people too. The calendar flips, but the noise ramps up. Everyone seems to be choosing words like strong, focused, disciplined, all in. And if you’re already feeling a little lost — emotionally, relationally, spiritually — that pressure can feel like not knowing which direction the car is, just as the light fades.
So we panic, and we choose a direction just to choose something. We promise ourselves things we don’t yet understand how to keep. We commit to move without orientation. Families who love someone with mental health and substance use disorders know this feeling well. Disorientation becomes a way of life. Crisis teaches us to react quickly, decide fast, move now. And while that urgency makes sense, it often leaves us exhausted and even more unsure of where we are.
I’ll say it first. This year, I’m not starting strong. I’m starting soft. That is whey this posts on Jan 5 instead of Jan 1. To me, soft doesn’t mean passive, or stuck. It doesn’t mean giving up. Soft means slowing down long enough to get oriented.
It means asking:
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Where am I, really?
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What terrain am I standing in?
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What do I need before I move?
Orientation is wisdom not weakness. And it’s the foundation of any movement that lasts.
If you’re feeling unsure at the start of this year — if you’re tempted to panic and pick a direction just so you don’t feel lost — you’re not doing anything wrong, you might just need to pause. Take a breath, and look around. Notice where you are before deciding where you’re going.
Because movement without orientation doesn’t lead us forward. And starting soft might be exactly what keeps us safe.
Before you decide what this year needs from you, ask yourself: Do I know where I am?
With care and presence,
Lisa