Reader!

I despise the word "goals."

I don't know why, but I suspect it has something to do with having to set KPIs (key performance indicators) at a corporate job for 17 years straight.

It might also have something to do with my deep-seated need for rebellion.

Eh, who knows.

But I do love a good poem, and I've got one for you today.

It's from January, the oldest sister of the calendar year, and she wants you to know she's over the whole "goals" thing, too.

So:

If you feel bad about not setting resolutions, intentions, or a word of the year?

You have her (and my) permission to stop feeling bad -- that's just wasted energy.

And if you did set goals, resolutions, or intentions but you're not kicking as much ass with them as you wanted to?

That's no biggie either.

What matters is YOU.

In this moment.

The beauty and conflict and presence and potency of the moment itself.

The aliveness of it.

So let's just be for a moment, shall we?

And enjoy this love letter from January. 💌

NOTE: This is a piece I published last year on Substack, and it's becoming my annual tradition. Next year, when I send it out the third time, I can properly call it a tradition, I think. #GOALS

JANUARY

January, the oldest sister of the calendar year,
is getting the familiar parental bullshit:

“You’re older than the others, January.
You have to set a good example.”

Like any good rebel, though, January isn’t buying it.

"Don’t come at me with that --
I’ll set what I want to set.
To hell with what my example means for the other months.
They have their own minds to make up,
their own decisions to stand by.
I’m not responsible for them.

February’s pining away
for that unrequited love.
(When will she realize she’s enough?)

March needs an intervention,
her addiction disguised
as some bizarre Irish appropriation thing.
(But she’s the strongest of us all,
straddling the ending and beginning seasons --
she’s a warrior in the making,
once she tames that dragon.)

April, all push/pull, hot/cold,
exhausts herself everyday.
(But that’s where her creativity comes from --
she’s all beauty and beginnings.)

May’s just jealous of June and July.
He can’t see how cool he really is most of the time.
(#hotnerd)

June and July,
those twins are full of themselves.
Enough bravado already!
(But they DO know what it means to be free.)

August: overachieving much?
Why is he sending his kids to school so early??
Calm the fuck down, love.
(He would love to be your #goals guy; maybe give him the job)

September, our bringer of mystery,
all melancholy and awe,
she’s crisp and cool to your face
but warm at heart.

October, come ON,
that guy made out with a llama at a goth rave the other night!
If anyone needs goals, it’s him.
(But seriously, he’s got style,
and he can sell you on anything --
like fucking pumpkins!
How did he even do that)

November is too busy
trying to Instagram their life
into one endless
#blessed.

December!
One word for Captain Doing Too Much:
BOUNDARIES.

So.

Don’t come at me and expect me to solve all of that.
I’m not here to be your do-over,
I’m not the keeper of your yearnings and projections,
and I’m not having it.

The ways you try to contain your existence,
looking at it sideways,
not quite seeing it ...

You think you have to corral it,
manage it,
goal-orient it.

Well.

Here’s a goal for you:

Let.
Me
Be.

Because just like the other months,
the only goal I need is to realize this:

I’m pretty damn awesome already.

Just like you."

Yours in rebellion,

Kali

​Kali Jaye Career Empowerment Coaching | ​Helping women give fewer f*cks since 2024 ​
​Want to stop burning out and find your creative spark again?

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