The Stefan of today

The holidays already feel like a distant memory. Life is back in full swing: work, responsibilities, family, routines, money, other people's feelings and other people's actions. Everything seems to be competing for our attention and wanting some of that precious time and space we have. And, of course, we're trying to fill that space ourselves.

I've been thinking about this over the past few days. It feels as though every day, everything gets thrown into one big pot. Some of the ingredients we choose, while others are put there for us. Things happen, people say things, plans change, work needs doing, someone needs something from us. We worry about something that hasn't happened yet or replay something that happened yesterday. It's all in there.

But we don't have to use exactly the same ingredients every day. We can experiment. We can look back at yesterday and ask ourselves: How was that? Did that work for me? How did I react? Was my reaction helpful? What could I do differently today? Not to criticise ourselves for getting something wrong, but simply to notice.

Because today is really the bit we have. Yesterday has happened and tomorrow isn't here yet, but today gives us another opportunity. When we talk about a new day bringing new opportunities, I think we often imagine those opportunities arriving from somewhere else. A phone call, a new client, a job, someone opening a door for us. But perhaps some of the most important opportunities are much quieter than that. The opportunity to learn from yesterday, to notice how we are today and perhaps to respond differently.

Something happens and there is often an immediate reaction inside us. Anger, frustration, fear, excitement, disappointment, whatever it happens to be. But that initial reaction doesn't necessarily have to become our external response. We can give ourselves a buffer, perhaps just a breath, and create a little bit of space to notice what is happening internally before deciding how we want to show up externally.

I'm appreciating that space more and more. As I sit here this morning writing this Wednesday Letter, I find myself thinking about three versions of me: the Stefan of yesterday, the Stefan of today and the Stefan of tomorrow.

The Stefan of today can learn from the Stefan of yesterday. I can look at what worked and what didn't, how I reacted, what I worried about, what I gave too much attention to and where I could perhaps have handled something differently. But I don't need to give yesterday's Stefan a hard time about any of it. I can appreciate him too. He showed up, did what he could with what he knew and how he felt at the time, and he got me here.

Now the Stefan of today gets his turn. Today I can experiment. I can notice. I can challenge myself. I can focus. I'll probably get distracted. I might react badly to something and perhaps I'll catch myself doing it. Occasionally, I might even create enough space to choose a different response. I won't get everything right, and I don't think that's the point.

Then tomorrow another Stefan gets his turn, and he'll inherit whatever today teaches me.

I know all of this. I've known it for some time. But knowing something doesn't mean we always remember to live it. Life gets busy. We get pulled along by work, family, responsibilities, money and everything else wanting our attention. Before we know it, we're thinking about tomorrow, replaying yesterday or simply getting caught up in everything happening around us today.

Sometimes we just need a reminder to come back. To be present with the person who woke up this morning, appreciate the person who got us here and learn from whatever happened yesterday without carrying all of it with us.

Perhaps that's what this Wednesday Letter has been for me this morning. A breath. A little bit of space to stop and remind myself that the Stefan of today is the only one who can actually do anything right now.

Tomorrow will come soon enough.

Today, I get to be here.

And I quite like that.

Stefan