How to Orient Your Life (Instead of Making Resolutions That Fail)

What if the problem isn't your lack of willpower—but the way you've been taught to begin?

It's early January, and if you're like most people, you've either already broken your New Year's resolutions or you're white-knuckling your way through them, waiting for the inevitable moment when they dissolve into guilt and self-recrimination.

Here's what I know after years of coaching heart-centred people through transformation: the problem isn't you. The problem is that resolutions ask us to force ourselves into predetermined shapes rather than respond to who we're actually becoming.

There's another way.

A way that doesn't rely on willpower or self-discipline or grinding through discomfort until you finally "get there."

It's called orientation—and it might just change how you approach not only January, but your entire life.

In this post, I'm going to share:

• What orientation actually means (and why it works when resolutions don't)

• The three questions that will help you orient your year with clarity and compassion

• Why choosing support now—before you're burnt out—is an act of wisdom, not weakness

And if you want to go deeper, I'm hosting an Opening the Year Ceremony on January 10th—an online nature ceremony to mark this threshold consciously in community. But first, let me tell you what happened when I stopped making resolutions.

The Year I Stopped Forcing Myself

I was in my early thirties, sitting at my kitchen table on January 1st, writing the same list I'd written for years. "Start running. Be more productive. Save money. Read more." You know the drill.

By mid-February, I'd feel that familiar creeping sense of failure. Not because I was lazy, but because those resolutions weren't connected to anything deeper. They were shoulds, not truths. They were ideas about who I thought I should be rather than responses to who I was actually becoming.

But here's what shifted everything: when I stopped trying to force myself into some idealised version of who I thought I should be and instead asked, "What season am I actually in? What do I need? What wants to emerge?" my body responded completely differently.

Instead of that clenched feeling of gritting my teeth and pushing through, I felt something open. A sense of coming home to myself.

That's orientation. And it changes everything.

What Orientation Actually Means (And Why It Works)

It's Not a Plan. It's a Relationship.

Orientation isn't about setting goals or creating vision boards, though there's nothing wrong with those if they work for you.

Orientation is something more foundational.

Orientation is how you face the world. It's what you return to when decisions aren't clear, when you're tired, when things get messy or harder than you expected.

Think of it as a relationship, with yourself, with what truly matters, with the season you're in. It's not about pressure. It's about truth. It's about asking:

• What is actually happening in my life right now?

• What season am I in?

• What do I need?

• What wants to emerge?

Here's the crucial difference: resolutions are rigid. They're binary; you either succeed or fail. But orientation is fluid. It's something you return to again and again. It's a practice of realignment, of noticing when you've drifted and gently, kindly, bringing yourself back.

When you shift from resolution to orientation, your nervous system relaxes. Because you're no longer forcing yourself into someone else's idea of success. You're responding to what's actually true for you, right now.

The Three Questions That Change Everything

1. What Am I Releasing?

Before we can invite anything new in, we have to make space.

This year, I'm releasing the idea that my value is tied to my output. That rest is something I earn rather than something I need. That I should be able to keep pace with everyone else, regardless of my own capacity.

I realised this clearly last October. My body just said no. Not dramatically. Not with illness or breakdown. Just a quiet, firm no. And I had to listen.

What am I no longer willing to rush? Most things, honestly. My creativity. Conversations with people I love. My own experience.

I'm also releasing a certain identity—the one that says I need to have all the answers. I'm a coach, a ceremonial leader, someone people come to for guidance. But I'm also always a student. Always learning. Always being humbled by life. And I want to be more honest about that.

Your turn: What are you no longer willing to carry? What identity or role feels complete? What pace is no longer sustainable?

2. What Am I Protecting?

Protection isn't about being defensive. It's about devotion. It's about recognising what's precious and saying: this matters enough that I will create a boundary around it.

This year, I am fiercely protecting my nervous system. Because when it's regulated, when I'm resourced and grounded, I can be present. I can be creative. I can be of service. When it's dysregulated, everything suffers.

Practically, that means I'm protecting my mornings. I don't check email until after breakfast. My mornings are for tea and quiet and maybe a walk. They're not for putting out fires.

I'm also protecting my time with my children—not just being physically present, but actually with them. Fully. That's a boundary too.

And I'm protecting depth. My capacity to go deep in my work, in my relationships, in my own practice. That means saying no to things that keep me skimming on the surface.

These boundaries are acts of devotion. They're how I tend to what matters most.

Your turn: What are you fiercely protecting this year? What boundaries are actually acts of love?

3. What Am I Committing To?

Not goals. Commitments.

I'm committing to presence over productivity. To community over isolation. To truth over comfort. To depth over speed.

These commitments feel slightly uncomfortable but deeply right. They ask something of me. But they also feel like coming home—like finally being truthful about what I actually value rather than what I think I should value.

What does "showing up well" mean for me now, not ten years ago? It means being honest. Being present. Being boundaried. Being softer and also clearer. It means letting people see me as I actually am, rather than performing some version of myself I think will be more acceptable.

Your turn: What commitment feels slightly uncomfortable but deeply right? What does showing up well mean for you now?

Why Choosing Support Early Changes Everything

Here's a pattern I see all the time: people wait until they're exhausted, burnt out, or resentful before they reach out for support.

I understand why. Asking for help can feel like admitting defeat. Support costs money or time we're not sure we have. We think we should be able to figure it out ourselves.

But here's what I want to offer you: What if we chose support before we're in trouble?

What if support wasn't the thing we did when everything fell apart but the thing we did to prevent everything from falling apart? What if choosing support early was actually an act of wisdom rather than desperation?

When I've invested in coaching or community or spiritual practice before I was in crisis, those resources became preventative. They became part of how I stayed well rather than how I got well.

And here's the truth: we're not designed to transform in isolation. We need witnesses. We need people who can see what we can't see, who can reflect back our patterns, who can hold hope for us when we've temporarily lost touch with our own.

January is your threshold. You're in that tender, foggy, full-of-potential space. You haven't settled into the momentum of the year yet. You still have the capacity to make different choices, to orient differently, to set things in motion that will serve you for the next twelve months.

If you wait until March or June or October when you're depleted, you're choosing support from a place of crisis. But if you're hearing this now and feeling that quiet stirring—then January is your moment.

Begin With Orientation, Not Resolutions

Orientation isn't something you figure out once. It's something you return to.

Some weeks, you'll be clear. You'll know exactly what matters. Other times—maybe most times—you'll wobble. You'll forget. You'll get swept up in old patterns or other people's priorities.

And that's okay. That's part of the practice.

The practice is the returning. The noticing when you've drifted and gently, kindly, bringing yourself back.

Ready to orient your year with clarity and compassion?

🎧 Listen to the full podcast episode here where I go deeper into each of these practices and share more of my own journey.

And if you're feeling called to deeper, supported work:

Join me for the Opening the Year Ceremony on January 11th—an online nature ceremony to mark this threshold consciously, to set your orientation with intention and in community.

The Life Compass Curriculum continues in January a new cohort being invited to the Spring Nature Quest—this deeply nourishing and transformative journey is a six-month journey of deep, supported work around what actually matters and how you want to live.

You can find all the details at leonajohnson.life, or sign up for my mailing list for regular reflections and resources at https://www.leonajohnson.life/resources.

Remember: How you orient yourself matters far more than what you say you're going to do.