The Season of Letting Life Happen

If you’d told me a year ago that I’d be writing my December reflections from a Malaysia, on a quiet culdesac, reflecting on this weekend’s Christmas BBQ, attended by the most eclectic mix of humans you’ve ever seen, I would have laughed, nodded politely, and gone right back to racing around Shanghai like a pinball.

But here we are.

And after six months in Malaysia, I’ve finally realised why we moved.

Not the polite reason (more space) or the strategic reason (better lifestyle balance), but the real one, the one you only uncover once the dust settles, the boxes are unpacked, and your six-year-old is sprinting barefoot through a crowd of twenty children from twelve countries while someone hands you gin and asks you, unprompted, why you chose that car.

The short version?

We moved for the community. The kind that exists outside the walls of an international school.

Anyone who has lived and worked in China understands this instantly. School communities there are vibrant and all-consuming and full of life, but they’re… well, all-consuming. Your friends, your colleagues, your child’s friend’s parents, it’s the same group. Wonderful, but also quite circular. Community exists, but it tends to orbit the school like a small moon.

Malaysia, on the other hand, is a melting pot with no clear recipe. People swirl in and out: teachers, entrepreneurs, tech folks, digital nomads, families taking a breather from somewhere else. And most of them have lived everywhere. Conversations drift from Singapore to Romania, then someone from South Africa chimes in about the local coffee culture before someone else from Sweden compares monsoon rain patterns.

It’s chaotic. It’s curious. It’s very… nosy.

I mean that lovingly.

Here, people will cheerfully interrogate every life choice you’ve ever made within five minutes of meeting you.

"Why you live here?" "Why not that school?" "Why that car?"

And before you’ve even finished answering, there will be three different suggestions for how to improve your situation - none of which you asked for.

But it’s warm. It’s welcoming. It’s messy in the best possible way.

And after the ferocious efficiency of China; the speed, the convenience, the thrilling feeling that everything works - Malaysia has been our season of grounding. The humdrum. The great settling.

We’ve lived many seasons. Hong Kong was our DINKY season - double income, no kids, fuelled by dim sum and ambition. Shanghai was our young family + career rocket season, where “busy” and “productive” looked suspiciously similar. And Malaysia? Malaysia is teaching us how to breathe again.

Not in a float-around-and-do-nothing way. But in a stop planning every inch of your life like it’s a strategic initiative way.

Which brings me to December - the season of lists, deadlines, performance reviews, and New Year ‘vision boarding.’

Here’s the thing I keep coming back to:

A vision is a useful picture, but it’s not a road map.

And somewhere along the way, many of us started treating it like one.

We convince ourselves that we must know the plan, the timeline, the milestones. We try to control the outcomes long before they exist. We forget that seasons change, sometimes gently, sometimes abruptly, and the best leadership (and life) decisions come when you’re willing to stop gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

Moving to Malaysia reminded me of something simple: Sometimes you don’t need a five-year plan. Sometimes you need to take the next step and trust yourself enough to handle the step after that.

If you need this message right now, take it warmly (and slightly firmly): You don’t need to have the whole map. You just need to notice the season you’re in.

Are you in a growth season? A consolidation season? A quiet season? A “please stop asking me to join another committee” season?

Whatever it is, name it. Honour it. Work with it, not against it.

As we wrap up the year, my invitation to you is this:

Let December be the month where you pause the racing.

Stop over-planning. Hold the vision lightly. And pay attention to the season you’re actually living in - not the season you think you should be in.

If Malaysia has taught me anything, it’s that life unfolds whether you micromanage it or not. Sometimes the best thing you can do is step back, breathe, and let the next step become visible in its own time.

Wishing you a calm, grounded, curiosity-filled Christmas - wherever in the world your current season finds you.

Three Simple Ways to Honour the Season You’re In

1. Do a ‘season check.’

Take ten quiet minutes and ask yourself: What season of life and leadership am I actually in right now? Not the season you wish you were in, or the one you think you’re supposed to be in… the real one. Name it. Clarity starts there.

2. Drop one obligation you’ve been carrying out of habit.

Not the big things, just one small commitment that no longer serves the season you’re in. A meeting, a committee, a weekly routine you keep out of guilt. Create a tiny pocket of space. Notice what it frees up.

3. Choose a ‘light hold’ goal for the next three months.

Instead of a rigid plan, pick one intention you’ll hold gently. Something that guides you without gripping you. Think direction rather than destination. Let it evolve with you.