January Was Never Just A Page

Happy New Year and welcome to 2026! 

As we put another year to rest, I treated myself to the gift of personal time, and devoted my holidays to being fully present for my daughter. I stepped away from social media and the blogs, not just for the sake of the Christmas season, but also to do my anual digital detox. I din’t even take out my beloved camera as I usually do. I just wanted to be fully present in the moment, with out the distractions of the outside world, and savour every minute with my daughter.

As we approach mid January, and the christmas decoration have all been packed away for the next 12 months, albeit with great reluctance, let me take you on a short journey of what January is all about, has been about, and perhaps it will inspire you to step away from the pressure of what society wants it to be about.  

Across cultures, January was never just a page on a calendar. It was a doorway, a fragile hinge in time, a moment when luck, spirits, weather, and fate all needed gentle handling. Long before it became the month of unused planners and guilt-driven gym memberships, January was mysterious territory, a place where people paused, paid attention, and tried very hard not to offend the universe. The name itself comes from Janus, the Roman god of thresholds, who had one face looking back at the past and one gazing toward the future. Romans offered him honey, dates, and wine so the coming year would be sweet and kind. It was less “new year, new me” and more “please don’t curse my crops.” Frankly, a more practical mindset which we have unfortunately corrupted into “please don’t corrupt my apps.”

In Scotland, January belonged to Hogmanay, a celebration that once stretched far beyond a single night. The first person to step into your home after midnight could determine your fortune for the entire year. Ideally, he was dark-haired and carrying gifts like coal, bread, or whisky. A fair-haired visitor was suspiciously unlucky, an ancient hangover from Viking raids. These days, we’ve replaced the ritual with group texts and a vague hope that nothing goes terribly wrong.

Meanwhile, in English villages and across parts of Europe, January was the season of wassailing. People gathered in orchards to sing to apple trees, pour cider at their roots, and hang toast in their branches to encourage a generous harvest. It was community theatre, agricultural prayer, and a party rolled into one. Now our fruit arrives in plastic clamshells with no singing required.

In Japan, January carried the quiet magic of hatsuyume, the first dream of the year. Certain dream symbols e.g. Mount Fuji, a hawk, an eggplant, promised luck and prosperity. People tucked pictures under their pillows to guide their dreams. Modern dreams tend to involve late trains, forgotten passwords, and unanswered messages, but the tradition still lingers.

Across China, the Lunar New Year season in January was once a time when spirits wandered freely. Homes were protected with painted door gods and explosive firecrackers meant to frighten away lurking misfortune. Today, the fireworks still crackle gloriously, though the idea of supernatural home security has mostly been replaced by very real alarm systems.

In the Alpine regions of Austria and Bavaria, January nights belonged to Perchten, masked figures with horns and wild costumes who paraded through villages making noise to chase away winter demons. Some masks were elegant, others truly terrifying. The message was simple: if you scared off the bad spirits now, the rest of the year might behave.

In Eastern Europe, long January nights were prime time for fortune-telling. Young women melted wax into cold water to divine future husbands, listened at crossroads for whispers of fate, or gazed into mirrors by candlelight hoping to glimpse what lay ahead. It was equal parts hope, boredom, and bravery. Now we refresh social media instead.

Even nature had its say. Many Indigenous North American cultures named January’s moon the Wolf Moon, Snow Moon, or Frost Moon, reminders that survival, not self-optimization, was the real priority. The month belonged to the earth, not the calendar. Somewhere along the way, we traded all this for productivity goals and retail schedules. We no longer ask January for luck or protection. We ask it for abs, organisation, and emotional reinvention.

The apple trees deserved better.