A common truism is that life isn’t about having all the answers but rather about asking the right questions. Maybe we should take this as a starting point for thinking about change in the new year. What if we took the idea of setting a new direction or making a new plan for the year and turned it on its head? What if, instead, we became highly focused and intentional about our curiosity and asked ourselves, What question will I try to answer this year?
Rather than assuming we know how to fix something or what we need to do, we could take a step back and lead with curiosity instead of action. Instead of committing to improving a relationship, for example, we might ask, How do I improve my relationship? Rather than setting a vague goal like "getting healthy," we could ask, What would it mean for me to be healthy?
This type of framing resonates with me because it highlights a technique I often use in clinical practice. It’s rare for me to provide entirely new information to patients– more often, my role is to remind people of what they already know and help them see it in a new light. For example, telling someone to exercise more isn’t groundbreaking advice—nor is emphasizing its benefits or importance. Yet, if everyone knows how critical exercise is and it still isn’t happening, that gap becomes an intriguing question. Why wouldn’t someone do something so clearly in their best interest, something inexpensive and beneficial?
That very question—the gap between intention and action—is a powerful one. If a patient offers a trite answer, like “I’m lazy,” I challenge it and keep digging. Responses such as “I don’t have enough time” or “I don’t know why” usually don’t hold up either. The underlying reason might be valid, but we need to uncover it. For instance, a patient might explain, I don’t have time because I’m working 12-hour days, and any free time I have I spend with my girlfriend. That’s a fair reason, but it leads to a follow-up question: Is this how you want to allocate your time? Does this make sense for your priorities?
With this framing, perhaps the question for 2025 shouldn’t be What will I change? but rather What question should I focus on answering? While I used exercise as an example, this concept extends far beyond that. Better questions might be:
- What truly brings me joy, and how can I incorporate more of it into my life?
- How can I show up more authentically in my relationships?
- What does living a meaningful life look like for me?
Of course, these are not questions that are ever definitively answered– but that’s ok. Devoting a year to intentionally asking the right questions might be a year very well spent.
Answering questions is, fundamentally, about learning. So here’s another idea for the new year: instead of setting traditional goals, ask yourself, What do I want to learn this year? This could be something tangible, such as I want to learn Python or I want to learn to sew. But it could also be broader and more personal, like I want to learn how to love my children better or I want to learn to be more honest with myself.
If we start the new year with a learning goal, we allow ourselves flexibility in terms of how to accomplish it, we give ourselves something to focus our attention, but we also allow us to follow our curiosity, and see where it leads. If we were to set for ourselves the learning task of being more vulnerable with the people we love, this could lead in all sorts of directions about courage, about acceptance, about what matters to us. However, the overriding question provides some structure, some overarching way of focusing attention.
Just as the best questions are never fully answered, the best learning is never truly complete. Both framings—What question will I answer? and What will I learn?—are about keeping ourselves in a growth mindset.
So, what question will you try to answer in 2025?
What will you learn in the year ahead?
Cheers,
Doc
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