The Unwanted Text
I wake up early, feeling good about the jump start I’d wanted today. With errands to run later, I want to get going.
But my phone dings as I walk into the kitchen for breakfast. I open my text messages.
It’s from my hair stylist. I’m surprised to hear from her—I’m scheduled to see her in two hours. I read the message to discover her throat is burning, she has a headache, and she feels nauseous.
She says she needs to stay home. And of course I agree. I express my sympathy for her and assure her we’ll catch up later.
But being honest, I also notice a pang of disappointment for myself.
My day is disrupted.
Filling in New Calendars
It was only yesterday that I’d decided to finally make time to fill in my new 2025 calendar, an annual ritual I’ve performed as far back as I can remember.
Armed with a box of markers, I sat at the table and transferred birthdays in orange, anniversaries in green, and “for-sure” appointments in black, flipping month to month from the old calendar to the new.
Filling in a new calendar brings me a feeling of certainty, seeing the rhythm of recurring events laid out neatly on those fresh, blank pages. Knowing there are things that don’t change from year to year.
When I finished, I had dropped last year’s calendar into the box at the top of my closet, on top of old calendars from previous years, and I hung the new calendar on the kitchen wall.
Done.
But, actually, not done at all.
Plan in Pencil, Not Ink
After the text this morning, I’m now pulling the 2025 calendar off the wall already. With a black pen, I cross out today’s haircut. One of my “for-sure” plans—written in ink—is inaccurate.
While I’m at it, I also strike through tomorrow’s lunch date and tomorrow night’s concert. Snow is in our forecast, and in Alabama, even a light dusting (or even the mention of one) cancels all events for a couple of days.
Drawing lines through my plans, I’m discouraged. I’m uncomfortable when life is so unpredictable.
The ink we use to write our “for-sure” appointments can’t hold up to the reality of life’s ripples. I had already been reminded of this when I was filling in birthdays on my calendar, having to halt at certain names because the person had died in 2024. On the 2025 calendar, this loved one would no longer age another year.
And now my stylist’s illness has rippled into my own morning, canceling not just my haircut but also the errands I’d planned around it, further rippling through my entire day.
A Life of Ripples
Life is a giant pond of ripples. We’re all more interconnected than we realize. Your life ripples into mine, and mine into yours.
I didn’t write it anywhere on my calendar, but one goal I have for myself this year is to be more aware of these ripples. And instead of resisting them or falling apart at their disruptions, I want to stay open to them.
My contentment level often depends on my ability to adapt to the unpredictable ripples.
The future isn’t meant to be written in ink. It’s too unpredictable, too uncertain. It’s best to write our plans in pencil. So when the ripples come—and they will come—we can be fluid enough to ride the waves instead of being overturned by them.
By December 31, 2025, nearly all 365 squares on my calendar will be filled with the story of a year, one day at a time. Several of those squares will likely contain appointments for haircuts. But just not today’s square.
So for today, looking at the blank spaces ahead, I take a deep breath and remind myself: stay open to life’s unexpected ripples.
My One Word for 2025 is Ripple. Are you choosing a word, too? How has your week already been changed by ripples? Share your thoughts in the comments.
