One Month In
January has a way of doing that thing where everything feels urgent at first.
Then, quietly, it settles.
The noise drops away.
What’s left tends to be more honest.
Over the last few weeks I’ve shared a couple of moments that mattered to me.
Not because they were dramatic. Not because they made good stories.
Because they asked something of me.
Judgement.
Presence.
Restraint.
I hesitated before writing them. Not out of fear but out of respect.
For the people involved. And for the moment itself.
But I shared them anyway.
Because sometimes the most useful thing you can offer isn’t an answer or a framework.
It’s honesty.
I’ve had many messages since.
Emails from strangers (which is lovely).
A few quiet words exchanged between sets in the gym.
People saying the briefings spoke to how they’re feeling right now. Even if they couldn’t quite explain why.
That matters to me.
Not because it flatters.
But because it tells me something real is happening.
Around two thousand people now read The Sunday Briefing each week.
Most of them on their own.
Different lives.
Different pressures.
But reading the same words.
Asking similar questions.
A quiet kind of togetherness.
Our silent community.
Before we go any further, let’s pause for a moment and debrief:
One month in - what’s actually shifted for you?
Not the plans you made but the reality you’re living.
What’s held firm?
What slipped?
What have you been avoiding because it felt easier not to look?
No judgement here.
Just awareness.
As February approaches, this isn’t about starting again or setting new targets.
It’s about intention.
What you’re prepared to protect.
Where your energy really goes.
Who deserves the best of you, not the leftovers.
Your mission this week (if you choose to accept it):
Choose one standard you’ll carry into February.
Not something impressive.
Something honest.
Then live it. Especially when no one’s watching.
If this briefing has resonated, feel free to pass it on to one person who might benefit from being part of this conversation.
No pressure.
No pitch.
Just an open door.
That’s enough for now.
More next Sunday.
Mike
Hold the line. Do the hard things.
