“The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.”

—Stephen Covey (1932–2012; leadership expert and author of the bestselling book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.)

All couples have a courtship phase, I suppose, and Allen and I were no exception. At one point, he was a traveling surgical technologist in upstate New York. We connected midway in Hazelton, PA, for long weekends together. One stands out in my memory as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. We were exploring Ricketts Glen State Park, home to the Glens Natural Area, a designated National Natural Landmark. Our plan was to follow the Falls Trail System so that we could take in the glens, where a series of untamed, free-flowing waterfalls tumble through rocky chasms carved into the hillside. Towering old-growth trees and a variety of wildlife enhance the natural beauty of the area. The crisp autumn air carried the faint roar of distant waterfalls, hinting at the adventure ahead.

The rumble of my two-door Jeep Wrangler echoed through the park as I navigated the winding roads, though “navigated” might be too generous a term. My hands rested lightly on the wheel, but my eyes were far from the road ahead. I was preoccupied by everything around me—the way the sunlight pierced through the canopy, dappling the ground with shifting patterns; the flash of a deer darting between the trees; the ripple of a stream running parallel to the road.

Every turn seemed to unveil something new—a stand of old-growth timber with gnarled branches twisting skyward, a cluster of huge rocks that looked like they’d been placed there deliberately, and the ever-present cascade of waterfalls, their spray catching the light like shards of glass. I felt my gaze wander again and again, lingering on the sights rather than the road. It wasn’t long before I realized that I wasn’t looking. I was losing track of where I was going, as if the Jeep were steering itself, and I was merely along for the ride.

I turned to Allen and exclaimed:

“I have to stop looking, so I can see where I’m going!”

“Say whaaat?”

“Yes. I have to stop looking, so I can see where I’m going! You look at the sights. I’ll focus on the road.”

Allen thought my comment was the funniest–and most ridiculous–thing that I had ever said. Throughout our twenty years together, he would look for any and every opportunity to teasingly remind me whenever I got distracted:

“Maybe you need to stop looking so you can see where you’re going.”

I laughed along with him, but over the years, I’ve come to realize that moment held more truth than I understood back then. That moment in the Jeep was more than a funny memory with Allen. It’s become a metaphor for how I approach life, especially at this time of year. The end of the year is like the winding road ahead of us, a time to pause, take stock of where we are, and decide how we want to navigate the twists and turns of the coming year. It’s easy to get distracted by everything around us, to try to take in too much at once. But clarity and focus—learning to “stop looking so we can see”—are the keys to achieving the goals that matter most. With clarity, we can set intentions that range from simple joys to profound transformations.

Let’s start with the simple goals, the ones that remind us to savor life’s small pleasures. These might seem minor in the grand scheme, but they ground us in the present moment and remind us of what it feels like to truly enjoy living. For me, this might mean experimenting with my sourdough pizza recipe to get that perfect balance of crisp and chew or revisiting my recipe for Sourdough Double Chip Crunch Cookies to enhance their texture. These pursuits are not about achieving perfection; they’re about immersing myself in the process, enjoying the creativity, and sharing the results with others.

Another source of joy for me is my garden. Whether it’s marveling at the tenacity of roots as I rework my peony bed or taking a step back to admire how my Koi Pond complements the Japanese-inspired landscaping, these moments of connection with nature remind me to slow down. Clarity here means carving out time for what nourishes the spirit—no matter how small or ordinary it may seem. These lighthearted goals are about reminding ourselves that life is rich with opportunities to pause and appreciate beauty.

Moving deeper, we come to goals that ask for more of us—those tied to our relationships, community, and self-care. These require intentionality, balance, and, most importantly, focus. For me, that might mean thoughtfully cultivating connections, such as inviting a neighbor to join me for dinner or reaching out to a friend to share a memory, a laugh, or a little gratitude. It’s about being present for others and making sure they feel valued.

At the same time, balance is key. I’m reminded of my online dating journey this year—how my profile reflects my true self while staying open to the possibilities ahead. It’s about embracing vulnerability while maintaining authenticity. Goals like this require clarity about what we value most in our relationships, whether it’s empathy, honesty, or simply the joy of shared experiences.

Self-care is another aspect of connection—this time with ourselves. It’s not just about routines but about listening to what we need to recharge. For me, it might be my daily biking to clear my head or listening to Black Gospel to feed my soul. Clarity here means recognizing that we can’t pour from an empty cup. These goals challenge us to strike the delicate balance between giving to others and nurturing ourselves.

And then there are the serious goals—the ones that stretch us, challenge us, and ultimately transform us. These require a willingness to dig deep and reflect on what truly matters. For me, this might involve continuing my exploration of “roots”—how the unseen foundations in our lives anchor us through uncertainty. This year, that theme surfaced in my writing and my gardening, reminding me that superficial fixes rarely work; it’s the deep work, often unseen, that brings lasting growth.

Another area of transformation is spirituality. Whether it’s reflecting on my Judeo-Christian principles or universal truths, I find that clarity in this realm often comes from leaning into questions rather than rushing to answers. I think, too, of the DNA test I took this year and how it invites me to explore not just where I’ve been but where I’m going. The results remind me of the rich identity that we each carry, and they prompt me to think about how we honor and build upon that in our daily lives.

Serious goals like these demand that we stop looking in every direction at once. They ask for stillness, focus, and trust. They require us to let go of distractions and be fully present with the questions, uncertainties, and hopes that guide us toward becoming our truest selves.

No matter the scope of the goal—whether it’s perfecting a recipe, strengthening a relationship, or embracing personal transformation—clarity of focus is what makes it possible. In the Jeep all those years ago, I realized that I couldn’t take in everything around me and still stay on the road. The same holds true as we navigate our lives. At times, we need to pause, set our sights on what truly matters, and let go of distractions to see the path before us.

As we stand at the threshold of a new year, I find myself reflecting on the power of clarity. It’s not about seeing everything—it’s about seeing clearly. So, as we step into 2025, I invite you to join me in setting goals that align with what matters most. Let’s stop looking in every direction and focus on where we’re going, one thoughtful, intentional step at a time.

Here’s to clearer roads, steady hands on the wheel, and the courage to keep moving forward. Happy New Year!