ESpace #1 53 min

Meta-beginning

The first episode of Element Space Podcast is a meta-beginning: instead of another "January reset" in theory, you get real practice. The author tells how life changes and the long process of reconstruction verified his plans for the beginning of the year - and why awareness of this difference is the key to getting out of the loop of eternal restarts.

The episode shows how to replace the inner critic with self-compassion, talk about difficulties in a way that builds relationships and prepare the ground for March: sensitivity and awareness. It is an invitation to life without perfectionism - with the truth about yourself as a starting point.

We don't have to be perfect - we just need to be real. An understanding relationship with ourselves is the foundation without which we will not build deep relationships with others.

Episode topics

Authenticity and self-compassion instead of perfectionism; January reset and reality; relationship with yourself as a bridge to others; communication about difficulties; preparation for sensitivity and awareness.

An honest story about what happens when our carefully laid plans collide with unpredictable reality.

In the first episode of the Element Space Podcast, I move away from purely theoretical considerations in favor of authentic practice. I share my personal experience of how life changes, the prolonged reconstruction process and the need for reorganization verified my own plans for the "January reset".

Instead of falling into the all-or-nothing trap, I'll show you how we can replace our ruthless inner critic with empowering self-compassion.

You will also learn why an understanding relationship with yourself is the absolute foundation without which it is impossible to build true and deep relationships with other people. It's an inspiring invitation to a brave life in which we don't have to be perfect - we just need to be real.

Key ideas

  1. Authenticity is the foundation - theory only makes sense when it meets life.
  2. The “January reset” myth easily turns into another round of starts without lasting change.
  3. Awareness is the difference between a restart and an escape - you see the pattern before you repeat it.
  4. Self-compassion replaces the inner critic; Without it, it is difficult to have deep relationships with others.
  5. Communicating difficulties and setting the stage for vulnerability is another “new beginning.”

Episode content

This episode was meant for January, then February—and it is only reaching you in March. That is no coincidence: this is the meta-beginning of the entire Element Space Podcast—a story about what happens when plans meet life and theory has to pass through the author’s own experience.

Authenticity as the foundation

Welcome to March—and to the first episode of this year, even though it was supposed to be the third. A few people waited for the January episode, then the February one; you are only hearing this voice now. And that is exactly where I want to begin: with authenticity, because it is the foundation of Element Guru and of what this podcast is meant to be.

I was preparing material about breaking out of the cycle of “new beginnings”—about how to stop constantly starting from scratch and create lasting change instead of another short-lived burst of enthusiasm. I wrote about the neuropsychology of rest, the pressure of January resolutions, and the fact that not everything has to be new—it only has to be real. Then life decided to test whether I truly understood what I was writing about.

The irony is obvious: I am preparing an episode about escaping the cycle of restarts while entering yet another beginning and making another attempt to carry out the plan myself. But there is one fundamental difference—and its name is awareness. I could have forced the schedule, pretended everything was going according to plan, and recorded a “January” episode in February. Or I could stop, look myself in the eye, and ask: what do I—and this project—really need right now?

The answer was clear: authenticity, honesty, and the willingness to practice what I preach. This episode brings together what I intended to discuss in January (beginnings and rebuilding) and what I planned for February (relationships and a kind word)—because it turned out that these subjects cannot be separated. You cannot genuinely begin again without offering yourself a kind word; you cannot build healthy relationships with others if your relationship with yourself is full of criticism. I am not promising an ideal, polished version of myself—I am promising an authentic one, complete with the process, the difficulties, and the learning in real time.

The myth of the January reset

We often welcome the new year with a mixture of euphoria and anxiety. The media flood us with resolutions, “new year, new me” echoes everywhere, and then January 2 arrives and we discover that we are exactly the same people we were on December 31—with the same thoughts, habits, and emotional baggage. Changing the date on the calendar does not erase patterns. It is merely a number in the continuum of time.

Psychologists talk about the “fresh-start effect”—a beautiful phenomenon that gives us hope and energy, but also has a dark side. When we believe January is a magical reset and that the stroke of midnight will turn us into someone else, we set ourselves up for failure. The research is unforgiving: between 80 and as many as 92 percent of New Year’s resolutions fail within the first two or three months. On average, a resolution “lives” for about 66 days; only around 10 percent of people keep it for the entire year. These are not statistics about weakness of character—they are evidence that our approach to change is fundamentally flawed.

I felt that pressure myself in January. I understood the theory of breaking out of the restart cycle perfectly well—while simultaneously experiencing exactly what I was writing about: changes in my life, publishing a book, illness, reorganizing projects, and the feeling that the ground was slipping from beneath my feet. I could have treated it as more proof that “I failed again.” Or I could stop and ask: what is actually happening?

What happens when theory meets life?

I remembered something I had written myself: a new year does not create a new “me” overnight—it is a continuation of life, another chapter in which we introduce change gradually and in our own way. Here I was in a situation where the plan no longer matched the schedule, where theory had collided with practice—and I had a choice: give in to self-criticism (“I write about breaking out of the cycle, yet I cannot even remain consistent myself”) or apply what I had written about.

The material I prepared for January includes a chapter on the neuropsychology of rest—on how the parasympathetic nervous system returns to balance when we stop rushing. When we live under chronic stress, the body operates in “fight or flight” mode—for weeks, for months—until it finally says, “Enough.” My body needed a break; my mind needed room to reorganize. Not because I am weak, but because I am human.

The key question is: how can we distinguish constructive rest from procrastination? I prepared a set of check-in questions: what is the purpose of this break—recovery or escape? How do I feel—calm, or increasingly guilty? Do I have a plan to return to action? For me, the answer was clear: I need space; I am not running away; I feel at peace with the decision; I know when I am coming back—in March. This was a conscious break, a strategic pause. As Timothy Pychyl says, procrastination is not a time-management problem but an emotion-management problem. True rest is a conscious choice to recover, after which we return stronger.

Escaping the perfectionism trap

This brings us to a pattern that holds most people back: perfectionism and all-or-nothing thinking. We define our goals in binary terms—exercise every day, publish every week without exception—and when we fail to meet the standard on the very first day, we think, “I failed; there is no point in trying anymore. I will start again next week, next month, or next year.” Research shows that this mindset dramatically increases the risk of failure.

This is the cycle of new beginnings: we fail to persevere—we blame ourselves—we feel hopeless—we abandon everything—after a while, we try again with the same approach—and the cycle closes. The inner critic then says, “You failed again. Everyone else can do it; you are the only one who cannot. Maybe you are simply not made for change?”

The way out is not to lower our standards or give up. It is about moving from “all or nothing” to progress over perfection: I strive for consistency, but if I need a break, I will take one consciously and return stronger. A flexible approach produces better long-term results than rigid perfectionism—because when we stumble for the first time, we do not quit; we adjust our course.

Instead of saying, “I did not succeed—I am a failure,” I decided to adapt the plan to reality. The key question was no longer “How do I complete this project?” but “How do I speak to myself during this time?” Because that inner dialogue determines whether we escape the restart cycle or sink deeper into it.

Our inner language during difficult beginnings

Think about it: how do you speak to yourself when something goes wrong—when you are late, forget something, or once again fail to keep a resolution? For most of us, that dialogue is brutal: “Again! You are hopeless. Why do you always do this?” But would you say that to your best friend, a child, or someone you care about? Never. You would be more likely to say, “I can see that it was hard. What matters is that you are trying—next time will be better.”

In psychology, we contrast self-criticism with self-compassion. For years, we believed that a harsh inner voice would motivate us. Kristin Neff has shown the opposite: people who practice self-compassion set and achieve goals that are just as ambitious as—or even more ambitious than—those of perfectionists, but with less stress, anxiety, and burnout. Self-criticism activates the brain’s threat system—the body responds with stress, making it harder to act. Self-compassion activates the soothing system: we feel safe and are able to act constructively.

In January and February, when I listened to the criticism (“You failed again; you are inconsistent”), I felt progressively worse—the more I punished myself, the harder it became to act. When I shifted toward compassion (“You are going through a difficult time; you need time—and that is okay”), I felt relief and found room to breathe. A harsh “pull yourself together” does not give us energy—it creates fear of failure. Self-compassion gives us security: even if things become difficult again, I will cope.

Our relationship with ourselves as the first bridge to others

We cannot build healthy relationships with others if our relationship with ourselves is toxic. Imagine a cup—your emotional reserve for support, empathy, and patience. When it is empty, we have nothing to give. Worse still, when it is filled with the poison of self-criticism, shame, and feelings of inadequacy, that is what we pour onto others, even when we do not mean to.

If we criticize ourselves for every imperfection, we will be critical of others. If we cannot forgive our own mistakes, it is difficult to forgive others. If we demand perfection from ourselves, we unconsciously demand it from those closest to us. Our relationship with ourselves is the prototype for every other relationship—the original template. We cannot export something we do not have in stock.

That is why the theme of “relationships and a kind word” must begin with us: before we learn to speak empathetically to others, we must learn to speak empathetically to ourselves. That is not selfishness—it is the foundation. Only from a full cup can we truly share with others; only from a place of inner calm can we create healthy relationships.

Talking about difficulties

How do we communicate our difficulties—how do we say that we have stumbled or that we need help? Most of us have learned to hide weakness: the media show us victories, not the struggle. We begin to believe that we are the only ones who cannot get it right, the only imperfect ones. When we conceal our difficulties, we create an artificial divide—we all wear masks and feel alone.

When someone has the courage to say, “I am having a hard time right now; I need support,” something magical happens. The masks fall: “I went through that too,” “I thought it was only me.” Authenticity is contagious in the best sense. My decision to be transparent in this episode—to say that January and February did not go according to plan—is precisely such an act. A perfect final image helps no one; the truth about the process can.

Brené Brown says that vulnerability is not weakness but our most accurate measure of courage. People do not connect with perfection—they connect with humanity. Sometimes the greatest change begins with a single honest sentence: “I am struggling,” “I need help,” “I do not know what comes next.” Such sentences build bridges—between us and others, and between us and ourselves.

Let us return to the restart cycle. Its mechanism is simple: we set an overly ambitious goal, stumble, respond with self-criticism, weaken ourselves, and abandon the goal—then, after some time, we try again using the same approach. What drives this cycle? Not a lack of discipline, but self-criticism—the voice that kills our motivation to continue.

People who practice self-compassion hold themselves to standards just as high as perfectionists do, but when they fall short, they do not collapse psychologically—they adjust their strategy and persevere. Self-compassion does not take away motivation; it gives us the safety to keep trying. The harsher we are toward ourselves, the less effective we become in the long term—and vice versa.

Take my example: I plan to publish regularly, life becomes complicated, and reorganization is necessary. A self-critical approach leads to stress, shame, and resignation (“If it is already a failure, why keep trying?”). A self-compassionate approach leads to calm, constructive thinking, transparent communication, and a wiser return. This is the missing link: we do not lack plans or knowledge about change—we lack kindness toward ourselves during the process of change.

Our relationship with ourselves as the first “new beginning”

Before we change our habits, relationships, or careers, we must change our relationship with ourselves. Everything else is built on this foundation—if it rests on criticism and shame, the structure will be fragile. If it rests on acceptance and compassion, we can build something lasting.

We cannot build a healthy relationship while maintaining a toxic relationship with ourselves—we will either attract toxicity or sabotage what is healthy. We cannot change our habits permanently if every stumble is a “disaster.” We cannot pursue our careers with perfectionism without burning out or avoiding challenges.

If I had to name the single most important new beginning, it would not be a new workout plan or a list of resolutions—it would be a new way of speaking to myself: shifting my inner language from criticism to compassion. This requires awareness, recognizing the critic’s voice, and choosing a different language every day. Years of self-criticism will not disappear overnight—but this is the most important work because it changes everything else.

Authentic communication about difficult things

Authentic communication about difficulties is essential in the process of change and in building relationships. We cannot change while hiding from ourselves. If we are not honest about where we are and what we need, we have no starting point. We cannot build deep relationships by showing only a façade.

In the context of change, this means looking without embellishing or demonizing: admitting that something is hard, naming our emotions, and asking for help. In relationships, it means showing not only our successes but also the struggle, and creating space where others can be authentic too. And once again, we cannot do this for others if we do not do it for ourselves. Our relationship with ourselves shapes every other relationship—this is not a metaphor; it is a mechanism.

Preparing the ground for sensitivity and awareness

This brings us to the theme for March: sensitivity and awareness. January and February—beginnings, rebuilding, relationships, and a kind word—were a necessary foundation. I could not speak about sensitivity without first becoming sensitive to my own needs and boundaries. I could not speak about awareness without becoming aware of my own process, patterns, and habits.

Those two months put a theory I knew into practice, but it was a theory that had to pass through life. Sensitivity is the ability to feel—ourselves, others, the world—but we cannot be sensitive to others if we ignore our own signals. Awareness means seeing and being present—but we cannot be aware of the external world without inner awareness: of our thoughts, emotions, and reactions.

I learned to listen to my fatigue instead of ignoring it; to notice the critic’s voice, the temptation of perfectionism, and social pressure. This practice gives me a foundation from which to speak in March not as a theorist, but as someone who has lived through it. This was not a failure of the schedule—it was a necessary experience. Life and growth are not linear; plans matter, but so does flexibility. The key is to adapt to reality while staying on course: not rigidity, but flexibility; not perfection, but authenticity; not a façade, but truth.

Declaration and intention

And here we are—in March. Element Guru is returning to a regular schedule with more wisdom than it had at the beginning of the year. The plan matters, but life matters more. Consistency is valuable, but authenticity is fundamental.

I will strive to publish according to plan—but if I need space, I will consciously give it to myself. Things will not always go smoothly, but I will be transparent about the process. There will be no perfect version of me—there will be an authentic one, complete with difficulties and learning in real time, because only that version has value and can genuinely help someone.

In March, we will talk about sensitivity and awareness—how to cultivate them in relation to ourselves and the world, and how to notice signals before they become crises—through the lens of experience, not theory alone. Theory without practice is empty; practice without theory is blind. Element Guru is meant to be a bridge between these worlds.

Closing the meta-cycle

This episode closes the meta-cycle: I planned to talk about moving beyond restarts, and then entered another restart myself—but with awareness. Theory met practice and passed through the sieve of life. The hardest stumbles turned out to be the most genuine material for learning.

If you are at a similar point—the plan is not working, your inner critic is loud, and shame tells you to pretend that everything is fine—know that you are not alone. Everyone stumbles; life cannot be planned perfectly. But we can be authentic, imperfect, and willing to learn—and that kind of space is the most valuable one in our relationship with ourselves and with others.

Thank you for being here with me at this meta-beginning. You can watch the episode on YouTube and listen to it on Spotify—the links are included with this piece. If you want to go deeper, read the full transcript below or return to the ESpace archive for more episodes.

See you in March—with greater authenticity, sensitivity, and awareness. Together.