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Hello Reader, Yesterday I noticed something about the jade plant on my study's deep window sill. It’s been in the same pot for a long time. I water it on a steady cadence. I make sure it gets light. And yet—it looks exactly the same. No new leaves. No visible growth. Just… alive. It struck me that this is exactly what this week is for. With Christmas only a few days away, and the calendar folding in on itself, this isn’t a week for expansion. It’s not a week for reinvention or big pushes or “getting ahead.” It’s a week to sustain and maintain. To keep the important things watered. To resist the urge to repot your life right now. To let growth wait until the season supports it. If things feel quiet—or even still—that’s not a problem to solve. It’s a signal to care without urgency. Sometimes the most meaningful work is simply making sure what matters is still here when the next season begins. See you later, P.S. If you want something gentle to begin after the holidays, The 12 Days of TimeCrafting starts on December 26—one small, intentional practice per day to help you move from maintenance into momentum. It’s available now if you’d like it ready. |
I’m Mike Vardy, and I help people build a better relationship with time — not by controlling it, but by working with it. Through my writing, courses, and community, I explore how intention and attention shape a more meaningful life — one rooted in the original idea of productiveness over productivity.
Hello Reader, Most of us remember what a physical growth spurt felt like. Awkward. Uncomfortable. A little disorienting. Your clothes didn’t fit. Your coordination was off. You needed more rest than usual. And crucially—you didn’t cause it. You didn’t hustle your way into it. Your body just grew, and you had to adapt. A personal growth spurt works the same way—but we often treat it very differently. Instead of accommodating it, we try to capitalize on it. We add goals. Announce intentions....
The Lantern by Mike Vardy Vol. 1, Issue 46 | January 10, 2026 Hello Reader, Legacy is often treated like a project—something to be engineered, safeguarded, and eventually revealed. A thing we can shape in advance if we make the right moves and say the right things. But that belief quietly distorts our relationship with time. It suggests that time is a resource we can spend toward a future outcome we control, rather than a relationship we’re meant to live inside of—moment by moment. When...
Hello Reader, A week ago, the calendar changed.Not your life—just the number at the top of the page. That distinction matters more than we admit. The first seven days of a year are often loud: intentions declared, plans announced, energy projected forward. But a week later, something quieter shows up. Reality. Habit. Drift. Friction. Familiarity. This is where the year actually begins. Not with resolution, but with recognition.Not with ambition, but with awareness. So here’s a better question...