long-term thinking
To combat New Year’s resolutions
Hi,
Happy 2025! Have you set New Year’s resolutions? And how have your past resolutions served you?
Last week, a friend planned a conference call to check in with each other (cue Yaling, creator of the "Following the Yuan" Substack), starting with reflections on our goals in 2024 and setting achievable goals for 2025. We were all “one-person companies,” content creators who relied on self-discipline for progress.
I have always dreaded making New Year’s resolutions, hating to live like a bullet point to be crossed out one day, but secretly fearful of the power of a vow—what if I failed to deliver it? So I’ve always approached writing like an undisciplined child. I recalled why I asked Yaling’s help in the first place: I was knee-deep in a full-time job, swore I’d quit, but doubted my ability to sustain my freelance work. I thought a community would help.
Goals, goals, goals. But who sets goals, knowing they can be easily undone? A pandemic can shatter plans, fires in LA can destroy homes, and floods in South Africa can upend entire communities. Even nature doesn’t run its own course anymore. What’s the point of us making plans again?
Last month, I did quit my full-time job, which I managed to stay in for half a year. The job pays like a cushion, feeding my bank almost more money than the totality of my entire three years of freelance career; one that put a content smile on my parents—see! All the years of educational investments paid off; one that put me back to bonding with friends, who complain about the cruelty of corporate life—how much damage it can do to your mental and physical health.
I quit, ironically, a job that entailed creating content around wellbeing. How could you create wellbeing content when your mental and physical health are suffering? My editor-in-chief, who had been coughing for the entire six months I’d known her, asked me to stay on part-time at least. Her voice was hoarse, speaking as though it were the last bit of breath on her sickbed. Her face appeared pale under the shiny flickering company light.
I quickly ran away from the company. My big boss’s objection echoed in my head: "If you quit, then what is your long-term plan?" I ran faster, like a mad person escaping from an institution. Not yet thinking about the tasty freedom lying ahead, I hurried for the exit.
And for the past month, my big boss’s concern haunted me like a ghost at night. Its weight lay on my tight shoulders, teeth clenching as I slept, body tiring from restless nights. Even recalling this episode now, my temple throbs, my gums tighten.
Does a full-time job equate to a long-term plan?
It’s easy to surrender personal agency and follow a long-term plan set by someone else. My big boss, for example, takes pride in shaping the company with a focus on long-term thinking. To clear out a path in the Western fashion conglomerate, to build a team that thrives on a Chinese-interpreted DNA, offered to publications—literature to fashion, academic to design, storytelling to education, civilization to business—it spanned multiple industries and combined intellectuals from different fields. It was a beautiful dream, but destined to crumble due to a top-down approach.
“Building a castle on ruins,” one colleague described the process. Four sets of 20-page interview scripts for one post, endless fact-checking, countless illustrations—an unsustainable workload split among a three-person editorial team.
On the other side, a dear friend of mine, Nan, demonstrated a different level of long-term thinking in her personal passion project. Nan has a tradition of doing an end-of-year review. Each year, she reflects on her experiences through a central theme. The first year after she moved back to the U.S., her theme was a tree, symbolizing relocating roots and leaf branches in connection. The following year, as she studied Chinese medicine, her focus shifted to life’s basics: sleep, diet, and exercise. This year, inspired by the 24 Chinese solar terms, she’s aligned her reflections with nature’s rhythms.
She had a system to get it done, publishing posts each solar term and summing it up into an end-of-year review. It evolved throughout the year, its philosophy grounded in nature’s rhythm instead of the rigid financial calendar.
James Clear, author of Atomic Habits, emphasizes focusing on systems rather than goals. He explains that if you prioritize daily habits over fixating on outcomes, progress will follow naturally.
Similarly, Kristen Neff, a psychologist specializing in self-compassion, notes that while most people think that self criticism is what keeps us in line, it’s actually self compassion. It’s not about abandoning ambition but about cultivating a kinder, more sustainable mindset for growth.
On the conference call, we started off sharing our 2024 reflections. To my surprise, everyone began with how their last year’s goals had failed. In fact, goals we swore off to complete three years ago were still in the picture. We concluded that because we tended projects with financial rewards and client deadlines, our personal goals got left behind.
It’s perfectly normal to drift away from your goals. And that’s okay.
Proven motivational psychology suggests that humans learn better when things are fun, and we’re more likely to stick to habits and goals when we enjoy doing them.
And of course, I have quite a few goals for 2025: keep updating my blog, keep writing fictional short stories, and actually apply to more writing programs and residential programs. (And learn to relax and not work all the time, so I have been told.) But reflecting on 2024, I’ve realized that my most fulfilling work came from creating content about friends and with friends. Observing their growth and evolving alongside them has been my greatest source of inspiration.
Nan’s end-of-year review had a part I liked very much:
“The answer to the future could be hidden in the past.
The answers to the past could be hidden in the now.
The answers to the now could be hidden in the future.”
It’s a reminder that time is cyclical, and long-term thinking doesn’t have to conflict with living in the present.
Maybe long-term thinking isn’t about rigid plans or resolutions. Maybe it’s about nurturing relationships and embracing the rhythms of life—a balance between structure and spontaneity. And perhaps that’s the key to creating something beautiful: not just for the sake of the future, but rooted deeply in the present.
Until next time,
Rachel
*Feel free to leave your email in the comment section for an English/Chinese version of Nan’s end-of-the-year review in the 24 solar term theme :)