Today is Jan­u­ary 1st. Not a good day for look­ing back on the year that has just end­ed. I’ve already spent a lot of time doing that — revis­it­ing what I expe­ri­enced, the suc­cess­es and the wounds, the progress and the set­backs, tak­ing a clos­er look at encoun­ters and good­byes, tak­ing stock. Today, I don’t want to do it again.

Nor is today a good day for look­ing ahead to the year that has just begun. Too much is still uncer­tain. Vague. Too many deci­sions haven’t been made yet, and count­less pos­si­bil­i­ties prob­a­bly haven’t even crossed my mind.

Today — Jan­u­ary 1st — is a per­fect day to be lived con­scious­ly. To be present, in the truest sense of the word. To enjoy what is right now, and what isn’t. And to be grateful.

I woke up today in good spir­its. I’m healthy — apart from a few minor things. And those minor things are being tak­en care of. I live in a coun­try where the occa­sion­al injury doesn’t pose a seri­ous risk. I woke up sur­round­ed by peo­ple I love. We just saw them off at the door after they turned our New Year’s Eve into some­thing tru­ly spe­cial. We had break­fast togeth­er, laughed, talked. I have peo­ple who enrich my life.

I wel­comed the new year with a run. The air was damp and misty, the kind that soft­ens the edges of the world with­out tak­ing any­thing away from it. It didn’t both­er me. It was good the way it was. I wouldn’t say it was effort­less — but it was pain-free. I’m able to run ten kilo­me­ters and more with­out any real issues. I know plen­ty of peo­ple for whom that isn’t pos­si­ble — not just at my age. Along the way, I greet­ed every sin­gle run­ner I passed. I was hap­py about every­one who waved back, and for those who didn’t, I tried not to fall into resent­ment. I caught myself invent­ing sto­ries for them — dis­trac­tion, shy­ness, fatigue. Any­thing, real­ly, so I wouldn’t have to make it about me. I tried to be gen­er­ous with all of them.

I returned from my run to a beau­ti­ful apart­ment — full of things that are dear to me. My wife was wait­ing. There was cof­fee and a small snack, and we’re look­ing for­ward to a qui­et evening togeth­er. On the couch. Watch­ing the new episode of Traum­schiff. Enjoy­ing the calm. Enjoy­ing our sense of safe­ty — even if we won’t be con­scious­ly aware every moment of what a priv­i­lege that is. We live in a coun­try that allows us to make most deci­sions in our lives freely. To devel­op ideas. To grow. Even on days when the world feels heavy, and even when I can’t always name what I’m car­ry­ing, this remains true.

I’ve sparked some curiosity in myself

While run­ning, I found myself think­ing about how I want to approach my new­ly start­ed career as a part-time barista. This job — which will be wait­ing for me again tomor­row and which I’m already look­ing for­ward to today — is an incred­i­ble gain for my life. A real enrich­ment. Both the work itself and cof­fee as a prod­uct fas­ci­nate me. Today, along the Rhine, around kilo­me­ter eleven, I had the idea of turn­ing this into a newslet­ter. Bring­ing along peo­ple who share an inter­est in the top­ic, giv­ing them some­thing to take with them. Mak­ing con­nec­tions. Cel­e­brat­ing and reviv­ing what­ev­er is still left of social media. We’ll see — maybe I’ll do it. I’ve cer­tain­ly sparked some curios­i­ty in myself.

Today is Jan­u­ary 1st. I hugged peo­ple. I went for a run. I’m healthy. I drank an excep­tion­al cof­fee. I am loved. And tonight, when the day comes to an end, I’ll fall asleep feel­ing safe and sound. Calm. More or less care­free. Being able to con­scious­ly enjoy a day is a priv­i­lege. My life is a privilege.

Will I turn this kind of mind­ful­ness into a New Year’s res­o­lu­tion? Prob­a­bly not. There are too many things this year that I’ll need to plan, think through, weigh risks, and fig­ure out next steps for. But hav­ing the occa­sion­al day where I can sim­ply be — that does me good. That’s what I’m tak­ing with me into this year.

Today.
On Jan­u­ary 1st.