It is early in the morning. The house smells of cinnamon-laced coffee. I’m in my robe, enjoying a luxuriously slow Saturday morning. Heavy clouds promise rain or snow later in the day. The city feels hushed. My mind, settled.
The cats are following me from room to room, eager for breakfast. A stack of books on my nightstand beckons to me—an invitation for some lazy afternoon reading—as does a new recipe that requires nothing more than fresh ingredients and time to simmer.
The week was full of a variety of mundane tasks. Laundry. Cleaning. Grocery shopping (my personal favorite). Emails to check. Assignments to grade. Lessons to plan. Most people would find this month anticlimactic after the festivities of December. Me? I relish that slow transition into January. The return to routine. The soft unfolding of a new year. Yes, even down to taking down the decorations and cleaning the house at the start of the year.
There’s nothing more satisfying than tending your sanctuary.
Some might find this time to be a reminder of what didn’t happen the previous year, what they didn’t get, and what is yet unfulfilled in their lives. They feel a slow dread. Winter holidays and the new year, after all, are a natural time for reflection.
Too often, however, those reflections usher in Four of Cups energy.
This card centers a figure sitting under a tree. His arms are crossed and he gazes at the ground, discontented. There are three cups before him and another brought to him, as if from a benevolent spirit. But he doesn’t notice. He doesn’t notice the beautiful tree that offers him shelter and comfort, either. Or the vast sky or verdant earth. No, this figure is so stuck on what he doesn’t have—what is lost and what might never be—that he cannot see the abundance before him. Not one, not two—but four whole cups, upright, before him.
That’s the kind of energetic stinginess I like to avoid in life, one that can unconsciously fuel New Year’s resolutions: focusing on what you don’t have and creating unrealistic goals to get it.
I hate that energy! It feels forced and perpetuates a scarcity mentality.
Instead, I would ask for a shift in perspective—especially entering the new year. And, if you must make it a resolution, make it a gentle one:
Practice the Art of Noticing.
Take my morning. I savored the taste of that first cup of coffee (truly, there is nothing more divine than that first sip). I relished a clean house that felt spacious and light after the holiday décor was put away. I took comfort in my familiars—one warming himself on a windowsill after breakfast, bathed in sunlight, amber eyes glowing. The other, wrapping himself around my legs, unapologetic in his affection for me, green eyes radiant. I relish a weekend of writing and time spent with loved ones.
I imagined myself as the figure in the Four of Cups, picking up her head and noticing: the three cups, the tree, the sky, and the earth. I imagined a warm breeze tickling my skin and birds singing their life-affirming songs.
I pay special attention to the three cups before me, grateful that they are upright, and I imagine them brimming with good energy. I then turn my attention to the fourth cup, offered to me as if by a benevolent spirit—what unexpected magic does it offer? I look forward to finding out.
I took this energy with me into the day, the week, and I will take it into this month, this year.
This is the energy of the Four of Cups reversed. It is a card of gratitude and abundance, appreciation and grounded joy. It’s not about wishing you had more or regretting what is absent from your life, but celebrating what you do have and realizing you have rather a lot more than you realize. Perhaps nothing has changed outwardly, but you’d be surprised at what a simple shift in perspective can do.
Reversed, this card is an invitation to open to wonder, curiosity, and appreciation.
This is a particularly useful set of muscles to cultivate, given everything going on in the world. I always write about the magic of everyday life because that’s where the best medicine can be found. It’s easy to want quick solutions to difficult problems or to search for big transformations and big experiences to find ourselves. But the truth is, the magic is in showing up for life, every day, in small, gentle ways. In tuning in. Paying attention. And appreciating where you are and what you have.
Be open to synchronicity and possibility.
Don’t look for an outcome. Just be present. If you find yourself looking to the past or longing for an imagined future, stop. Breathe. Notice the world around you. Get out of your head and redirect your energy to flow through your body.
This year, I invite you to try the Art of Noticing.
Look for magic in the little things. Embrace routine. Find enchantment in the simplest of pastimes.
Notice, too, your proverbial three cups. What do they hold—and what does the fourth one offer you?
Alt-text: A tarot card scene with crystals, a candle, and the phrase "The Art of Noticing."
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