It’s the New Year – Are You a New You Yet?

As the New Year began on January 1st, did you feel a sense of vibrancy and momentum for making change and starting fresh? … no? Did you do it anyway? Did you cajole some resolutions from your tired being, inflict some pain and suffering in the form of exercise or reduce something in your mealtimes?

Where does this compulsion come from? Why do we do this to ourselves, now, at this time of year, made up of dark mornings, tired bodies and depleted reserves?

Like for a lot of things, we have the Romans to blame. For them, this portion of the year fell between the harvest and the military season. It was quiet, so they could focus on administratively reorganising without disrupting farming or warfare, so they began their year here and named this month January, dedicated to Janus, the god of thresholds and transitions, who symbolised looking back at the past while facing the future.

The Romans made pledges to Janus. These promises were about being a better citizen, upholding ethics and fulfilling civic responsibilities. As Christianity spread, these promises evolved into moral vows, focusing on repenting and living Christian values. Over time, morality gave way to self development, and then, of course, capitalism got its grubby little paws on it with the dawn of gym memberships and food subscription services.

As we know, not every culture sees January 1st as the reset point of the year. Most indigenous cultures around the world look to nature to pace the year; using the sun, the moon, and the seasons to lead the rhythm.

When we defer to nature, renewal arrives gradually and inevitably. The return of longer days, the swelling of buds, the migration of animals. These calendars are not imposed, they are observed. Change happens instinctively, without force. With the grain, not against it.

So if you are feeling like this is not the time for transformation, you are probably on to something. We ask ourselves to transform at precisely the moment we are least resourced to do so in the depths of winter.

But we persist. Maybe this is because January offers something rare in modern life, a collective permission. An agreed fresh start. A moment where everyone briefly acknowledges that time has turned and we can feel optimistic about the possibility of change for the future.

There is comfort in the clean line we draw between before and after. The promise of starting fresh is seductive, especially when the year behind us feels complicated. Resolutions, for all their frequent failure, are acts of hope. They are small declarations that the future is not yet fixed.

Maybe the problem is not that we want to change, but how and when we expect ourselves to do it. What if January was less about reinvention and more about orientation? A quiet moment at the transition, an ode to Janus, to be just in that moment, acknowledging what has passed and considering what lies ahead.

Now is the time for incubating your potential, feeling that sense of hope and change taking root. Other seasons will follow that are better suited for action. Spring lends itself to beginnings. Summer to growth and autumn to fruition.

So if your resolution feels forced, or fell flat, it does not reflect a failure. It may simply be a mismatch between ancient wisdom and the modern calendar. Change does not need fireworks or countdowns. Sometimes it begins quietly, almost imperceptibly, like the slow return of the light.