Letting the Year Begin Softly
You might expect this to be about why goal-setting should wait until spring. It isn’t.
I love January planning. I like the clean transition of a new calendar year. I like choosing a word for the year. I like to clear physical space for myself and return to my work routines with a fresh perspective.
If starting something new at the beginning of the year feels motivating and hopeful to you, that matters. You should do it.
What I’m more hesitant about is not the planning, but the pace that follows it.
The temptation is to take off like a rocket in January. To move immediately at full speed toward your goals. To treat clarity as a cue for maximum acceleration.
What I’m learning is that winter asks for restraint.
This year, I feel no pressure to rush toward momentum. Not yet.
A growing body of research supports this instinct. In sports science, endurance athletes are taught to begin races more conservatively than they feel capable of in the opening miles. Marathon runners who start too fast, even when they are well trained, are far more likely to burn out before the finish line. Athletes who start slower and finish stronger consistently perform better and recover more fully.
Our bodies know something our culture has forgotten.
And the same pattern shows up in psychology research. Studies on New Year’s resolutions suggest that goals are often abandoned early not because they’re inherently unrealistic, but because the initial pace is unsustainable. Too much change, too quickly, overwhelms the nervous system. Motivation spikes, then collapses.
Slow, incremental change, especially when tied to identity and routine, is far more likely to last.
Winter already gives us this information, if we’re willing to pay attention.
Beneath what looks dormant, life continues in unseen ways. Roots deepen. Systems stabilize. Energy is conserved. Nothing is hurried, and nothing has gone wrong. Growth is happening, just not in visible or dramatic ways.
It’s time we take our cues from winter, and start slowly.
I want to let this year begin in that spirit.
Not as a declaration of change, but as a slow reorientation. I am setting goals. I am paying attention. I am choosing my direction. But I’m also allowing rest to do its quiet work first. I trust that clarity does not require urgency, and that action shaped by care is much more reliable than action driven by pressure.
In my studio, I’m letting ideas take longer to arrive. I’m allowing work to develop at a pace that feels natural, even when it looks unremarkable from the outside. I’m not asking how quickly my goals can be completed, but what they need to grow into lasting work.
This isn’t about doing less forever. It’s about beginning well.
Slow progress is sustainable progress. It’s a pace we can return to later in the year when things feel unclear. A pace that can quicken for short seasons of intensity without tipping into burnout. A pace that supports both rest and meaningful work over time.
So this is my invitation, to myself and to you:
Let the planning be thoughtful.
Let the goals be clear.
And let the beginning be soft.
There will be time for building.
There will be time for making and choosing and acting.
For now, I’m letting my year begin softly. I hope you’ll join me.
With love,
Sarah K
If we haven’t met, I’m Sarah K., a printmaker based in Richmond, Virginia. I create hand-carved linocut prints inspired by quiet places and slow rhythms, made to carry a feeling of retreat into everyday spaces.
