The Grand Plan
On New Year's Day
It’s 11:33 a.m. on January 1st, 2026 here in Thailand as I write this.
Several days ago, during an airport transit, a beautiful new journal caught my eye. I instantly had a plan: I would begin writing in this new journal on New Year’s Day, sitting somewhere with a view of the Andaman Sea, reflecting on the year that was and the year that is about to be.
You know—Grand Plans!
So I traveled with two journals: the old one and the new one, patiently waiting for the ceremonial hand-off to happen today. January 1, 2026.
This morning unfolded just as imagined—early wake-up, coffee, workout, shower, breakfast with family. When I finally had a moment to myself, I excitedly unwrapped the new journal and announced to everyone that I was heading out to find a nice spot to write. I’d catch up with them later.
I found the perfect spot, sat down, ordered my favorite Thai cold drink. I opened to the very first blank page of the new journal.
And then… nothing. My mind was completely still, despite the pen in my hand being ready and willing.
Hoping to wake up the part of my brain that had created the grand plan, I let my eyes drift to the tree directly in front of me. That’s when I noticed a tiny bird with a long beak flitting from branch to branch. Not a hummingbird—too big—and not any bird I recognized. I watched as it dipped its beak into one flower, then another, then another.
I tried again to refocus on the task at hand—the pristine blank page of my brand-new journal. Reflections? New Year’s goals? Stories from the past days?
Still nothing.
So I returned to the bird, now hopping to the next tree over, still happily doing its bird-thing.
And then this thought popped up: that bird does not know or care what day it is. It has no concept of a new year. No expectations to make this moment anything other than what it already is. It’s just being a bird, doing bird things, fully in the moment.
It seems content. It definitely seems free.
Could I just be like the bird? Could I scrap the grand plan and just… watch the bird?
I conceptually know that new beginnings don’t require a new calendar, a new year, or a new journal. New beginnings are always happening anyway—whether we like it or not. I don’t need to do anything special on New Year’s Day. I can have a plan and not follow it. Nothing catastrophic will ensue.
If anything, maybe I’d be more content. More carefree. Like that little bird.
At first it felt a little uncomfortable… a little wrong to not follow THE grand plan. But the discomfort was fleeting the moment I decided that I’d rather do what felt right, than what I was forcing myself to feel right.
I closed the journal, finished the cold drink, and watched more birds flit about.
The first journal entry of 2026 will happen when it happens. Grand plans get to be reshaped. I’m heading into this new year a little less structured and a lot more free—and I’m not mad about it!
I hope you give yourself permission to be scrappy and spontaneous, too.
New beginnings don’t need dates. Birds don’t need to be named. You are only as behind as you choose to believe.
Otherwise, we’re always doing just the right thing, at the right time.
Happy New Year to you!
Let’s have fun in 2026, shall we?
With love, light, and gratitude,
xoxo
Kit
P.S. We’ve got a waitlist for the Chinese New Year Vision Quest!
If you would like to be on it, please hit reply to this email. If we have enough interest, we may open up another session. Stay tuned!
Sometimes a schedule doesn’t always work out. It’s like studying for a test with a deadline. I happen to understand you are a very disciplined person but the last few years of empty nesting and hormonal changes have also been transforming your life. Glaf you could shift & go along with the flow! Maybe that’s a good word for the year FLOW! May the ‘new year’ be good - wishing all health and abundance. 🤎🤎