The in-between times

The quiet moments that prepare us for what comes next

Hello friends,

Congratulations. We made it through another year! What an absolute gift.

Not to get too woo on you, but the fact that I can be writing this from my kitchen table—silk eyemask still resting on my forehead (it's a vibe), and cup of Kenyan coffee in tow—with you reading this, ideally from your couch or bed or some other horizontal position, is indicative of just how fortunate we are, resilient and shielded from the chaos around us.

It’s always a mad rush to the finish line, isn’t it? Parents with children in school, I do not know how you do it. I can barely care for myself in the last few months of the year, consumed with consumerism as a means to my livelihood. If you feel like Black Friday/ Cyber Monday got the best of you this year, imagine being on both sides: receiving hundreds of emails and 23 ads for progressive readers just because you clicked on that ONE post, while also sending emails and targeting you with similar ads. It’s becoming increasingly challenging, and based on my conversations and what I’m reading, I don’t think I’m alone in feeling like we’ve crossed a threshold. The cost of admission to this modern-day life might not be worth the ticket price.

That’s why I always look forward to the Winter Solstice, a day set by the natural world, free from the constructs of capitalism. It marks the beginning of the transition from one year to the next, a great unwinding that I try to settle into through January 1st.

During those precious 12 days, I pretend that I too am busy with holiday preparations and parties, but truth be told, I shut out all of the holiday madness and instead treat myself to long soaks in the hot springs, road trips, journaling, skiing, and re-imagining my world. It’s my annual opt-out of feeling guilty about not participating in the daily grind—checking emails, sending emails, responding to texts, picking up the phone, attending gatherings, posting on social, and writing for anyone but me. I assume people don’t even notice—or don’t have the time to be bothered—by just how anti-social I become during a time when peak engagement is the expectation. If I’m wrong, please let me be right.

The Winter Solstice, and winter in general, is a universal call to slow it down and reign it in. We are meant to be hibernating. In a time marked by AI and self-driving cars and robots, it’s radical to be connected to the earth and its cycles. We’ve lost touch with the guidance that the natural world provides to everyone. When I’m immersed in nature, my ability to understand where I’ve been, where I’m at, and where I want to be is magnified. And that’s powerful.

Starting on the Winter Solstice, I begin to rework and reassess. I reflect on my daily routine, the systems and structures I employ in my businesses, my casual interactions, and my meaningful relationships, all through the lens of what I want to experience in the new year. This is in part a reflection of what I don’t want to repeat from the previous year, but it’s more centered around a positive framing of what I want and the very tangible steps I can take to get there.

I light a candle and incense, and in silence, I write. I write pages. I scribble on small pieces of paper. I type notes. After a few days, what I want for the new year starts to make sense:

• An expanded sense of courage to do the hard things I’ve been avoiding

• A daily routine that nurtures my creativity and curiosity

• Awareness and being present in the great transition I’ll personally experience and the one I believe we’ll collectively experience

• Trusting my intuition—moving away from what instinctively doesn’t feel good and moving toward what does, even if it seems at odds with what I’m supposed to do

The list is short, and that is intentional. I don’t spend this sweet in-between time conjuring up more ways to feel shitty about myself.

We set New Year’s resolutions or intentions or whatever you want to call them precisely for that reason—to make better decisions so we feel better about ourselves. Sometimes they are realistic and they stick. But most of the time life gets in the way and we go back to doing what we do best—being ourselves.

I don’t want “being myself” something that I try to overcome, so I don’t. If anything, I want to be more of myself, and that led me to think more about how and what I share here.

I take your support and your readership very seriously and sometimes that creates a creative block. What if what I write doesn’t resonate with people? What if I have it wrong? What if I sound boring or dumb? WHAT IF I AM BORING AND DUMB?!? Why write something about that current event when everyone else has already shared their hot take? Do I need or want to be quicker in publishing the hot take? Who am I to have something to say about x, y, or z? WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LIFE? DOES THIS MATTER? You get the point. It’s a bit of a rabbit hole.

If I’m going to be honest with myself and with you, an overarching answer to nearly all of these questions is that I’m trying to do too much for too many people. Putting my writing—much of which is personal and provocative—out into the world for anyone and everyone to read without any social contract to bind us together or reciprocity feels unsettling. It’s feels social-media-ish. I am a bit afraid to keep sharing openly—I think a lot of us are afraid of how we show up in the world. I also feel like this life is too short and doing something simply for the sake of doing it isn’t worth it. It lacks the sense of community and togetherness that I have aimed to create with this newsletter, both for you and for me.

I also have found myself spinning in circles trying to come up with fancy perks and special offerings to incentivize paid subscriptions to this newsletter, which consumes precious creative resources. What I realized is that if you’re a paying subscriber, you’re here because you want to read what I write. The magnitude of that is not lost on me—thank you for that gift.

It’s simple: All I need and want to do is write, sharing how I perceive and make sense of the world.

I’m not here to grow my following or experience the dopamine rush of social media-like likes. I’m here to be in community as we navigate this complex world together. And I think that is going to be essential in 2025.

So that got me thinking—and there are about eight pages in my journal, plus a few kinda high voice notes, alongside a project page in Notion—about what I want I want my public-facing writing to feel like, for both you and me.

Here’s what I came up with, and who knows if it will stick because “who knows” is a hard 2025 theme:

• Redefining Radical will prioritize the reciprocity that exists between paid subscribers and myself.

• Paid subscribers will receive between two and four new personal essays a month. You’ll also receive 10% off all of my 2025 offerings (keep scrolling!).

• In 2025 I plan on pulling back the curtains more—this newsletter will be more personal as I attempt to connect the dots between what is happening in the world around us and how that impacts us.

• If you are someone who cannot afford the $6 a month but wants to be an engaged member of this community, please message me and I’m happy to gift you a subscription. I don’t want payment to be an obstacle to our connectedness.

• I will occasionally share posts with all subscribers, free included. I also will occasionally organize complimentary offerings for paid subscribers. I am open to your suggestions and ideas—please share in the comments what you’d like to read and be a part of.

I want to be clear that this is not a ploy to get all of you to pay me. Putting most of my writing behind a paywall isn’t about making more money; it’s about honoring myself and the people who financially support my writing. It’s about making my circle a bit smaller and knowing that everyone sitting next to me has some skin in this game, a game that is deeply personal.

I also want to share what an absolute joy it is to be here, to be able to connect with you through my writing. I’m excited about how this new structure will shift things for me. Thank you for being here.

Beyond creating a community through this platform, there are other ways to connect IRL.

Here’s what I’m personally inviting you to be a part of with me in the first half of 2025:

• I’ll be in Jackson Hole, WY from January 6th through the 10th, speaking at the Silicon Coulior Chance Meeting on the 6th and co-hosting Send & Mend, a community event on the 9th with my dear friend Kelli Jones from NOSO Patches.

• On January 24th, I’ll be speaking at The Ski Retreat. There’s a few spots left to join in on a few days of skiing and riding, private yoga classes, culinary delights, and more in Lake Tahoe.

• In March I’ll be facilitating my new offering, 〰️ Limitless 〰️. This four-week course is for purpose-driven entrepreneurs, creatives, freelancers, and dreamers who want a feel-good, action-oriented safe space to find clarity, motivation, and excitement about your 2025 goals.

• In early April, I’ll be hosting an in-person gathering in Salt Lake City while en route to Boot Tan Fest. Details coming soon!

• At the end of April join me for Bachelorette, a five-day, four-night getaway to Mt. Bachelor. Register for the upcoming Q&A session on January 14th here.

• In May, I’m hosting Full Send, a collaborative workspace to grow and nurture your emails, newsletters, and creative writing.

• And in July, I’m off to Kenya and you can join me for this epic cycling trip! Register for the upcoming Q&A session on January 14th here.

Please DM or email me with any questions!

Signing off for 2024…

I hope you have a wonderful and safe New Year’s celebration. I’m excited to connect with you more in 2025.

xxoo,

Jen