The Year Doesn’t Start on January 1—And Why That Matters
It’s become a pattern—I always need January to wrap up the prior year, and last month was no exception. Despite my best efforts to be ahead of the game, my end of year turned out fuller than expected, with new projects popping up that required me to pace other commitments or put desired activities on the back-burner, like this newsletter.
Though I invested time at year-end thinking strategically about my next chapter post-book launch, neither my vision nor an action plan was defined by January 1. I couldn’t fit my planning session with my coach into December, so I pushed it to mid-January. Even the holidays rarely feel complete for me come December 31, as I often find myself literally putting away holiday items in late January because I want to hold onto the season just a bit longer. I simply haven’t had the mindshare to fully step into the new year. Only now, on February 1, have I the space to shift my attention.
In the end, the calendar date of January 1 never aligns with my actual readiness to jump into the year. I’m used to this cadence at this point; it’s not new. And even though I do my best to alleviate the same predicament, the season tends to work this way. So I’ve made peace with this fact and don’t feel behind. And what I’ve learned is that this way of operating is actually aligned to our natural human rhythms.
Rethinking the Calendar
While the calendar year starts on January 1, our seasonal markings are more attuned to our true nature. I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling that in the middle of winter we still feel like, well, wintering, as Katherine May puts it.
It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. For thousands of years, cultures around the world aligned their new year with spring—the Babylonians, Persians (Nowruz), Egyptians, Greeks, and early Romans all recognized spring as the marker for rebirth and renewal. It wasn’t until 1582 that Pope Gregory XIII instituted the Gregorian calendar, which standardized January 1 as New Year’s Day across Catholic Europe. Before that, the spring equinox had been the universal marker for new beginnings.
So instead of feeling like we should be ready to mobilize and get into action on January 1, what if January marked a time of continued hibernation? A time for going inward, for reflection, for completing what came before? What if we allowed spring to be when we actually step forward?
How I Start My Year
For me, this is how I operate: January recovery, February get re-grounded, and March step more fully into the year. It’s my rhythm, and I don’t let New Year’s create undo urgency or pressure.
Because after my completion work in January, I have the mental space to ask better questions. Not “What should I do?” but “What's actually calling me? What matters now? What do I want to be true by the time spring arrives?” This is when I start to see the shape of what’s a priority now.
You can embrace this framework, too:
Think of your January as having been for completion and reflection, so you can move forward.
February is for asking better questions. (I’ll provide three ideas for this below.)
March is for fully stepping into the year with intention, not pressure.
If you feel like you haven’t “started” your year quite yet, too, I’m finally hosting my 2026 planning session (yes, this got paced out, too, just as it likely should). Details below.
Setting Your Own Pace
Since I’m sending this on February 3, you have seven weeks before the spring equinox. And Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow yesterday, so according to lore we’ll have 6 more weeks of winter. Plenty of time to complete the activities of 2025, hibernate a little longer, and reground in what matters most for you this year.
As we step into February, here’s to being right on your own pace.
Want to get insights, tips, and tools on how to live with Sustainable Ambition? Join in here. Welcome!
Sustainable Ambition offers a strategic approach for pursuing our professional and personal goals in a way that is motivating, meaningful, and manageable from stage to stage, rather than be all consuming in a way that compromises other important aspects of our lives or sacrifices our well-being.