Introduction

There is an Aesop’s fable called The Fox and the Cat.

To briefly summarize the story: a fox who boasts about knowing many ways to escape meets a cat who knows only one—climbing a tree. The fox proudly shows off his wide range of knowledge, while the cat offers no argument and simply says that he has only that single option.

When hunting dogs suddenly approach, the situation changes at once. Faced with so many possible choices in his head, the fox cannot decide which one to take. While he hesitates, he is caught. The cat, on the other hand, immediately climbs a tree and escapes safely.

What this story depicts is not that the fox was foolish, nor that the cat was exceptionally clever. Rather, it highlights a contrast between knowing many possible options and being able to act in a real situation.

In moments of danger or under time pressure, having too many choices can itself make decision-making difficult. This fable seems to capture such a situation in a very compact form.

Rethinking Records and Reflection

The reason I am writing this today is that, during the year-end and New Year period, I was reviewing and taking stock of the past year.

I enjoy tracking my working hours, progress, and daily activities using various tools, and then reflecting on them. I also enjoy choosing those tools, designing systems for recording and reflection, and actually building and operating them. Starting from a weekly reflection notebook, I created systems to review daily insights on a weekly and monthly basis and to organize ideas, and I continued doing this with a fair amount of enthusiasm.

Keeping records makes it easier to understand one’s situation and identify areas for improvement. I have felt through experience that these practices themselves carry real value.

However, when I looked back over an entire year’s worth of logs, I noticed something. I began to wonder whether the time and effort spent recording, organizing, and reflecting had grown larger than necessary. Once these activities become “normal,” they can continue as routine without much thought, steadily consuming a certain amount of time and energy from everyday life.

What Happens When the Weight of Reflection Grows Too Large

This is a purely personal observation, but throughout 2025 I had many things I wanted to do. These included both work-related and personal goals, and they remained in large numbers within my reflection notes and records.

Those notes are filled with ideas and improvement plans, written down one after another and neatly organized. At the same time, many of them were never put into practice or were left halfway done, leaving behind a small sense of regret and the feeling that “perhaps I could have done more.”

Within the records, ideas and thoughts are plentiful. But in terms of actual actions, I had not moved forward nearly as much. When I reviewed last year’s logs, this gap became very clear.

When What Should Support Action Starts to Distance Us from It

Records and reflection are originally meant to support action.

As tools for organizing one’s situation and thinking about the next step, they are extremely effective.

Still, in my case, I was left with the impression that the proportion of time devoted to recording and reflection had grown a bit too large. Records increased, reflections became more thorough, yet the balance with actual action felt off.

To put it bluntly, taking action on even one idea can sometimes move things forward more than writing down a hundred ideas.

What was depicted in the fable of The Fox and the Cat was not a lack of knowledge, but the difficulty of deciding when faced with too many options.

Records and reflection themselves are not the problem. But when they increase too much, the distance between thinking and acting can gradually widen. The discomfort I felt while reviewing last year’s logs lay precisely in that point.

Conclusion: What Kind of Year Do I Want This to Be?

Up to this point, it may sound as if I have only been listing the shortcomings of 2025. In reality, when I look back overall, there were no major troubles or drastic negative changes, and it felt like a fairly stable year, including work. At least from my own perspective, I believe I spent my days earnestly.

At the same time, compared to how complete my records and organization felt, the amount of real trial and error may not have increased all that much.

With this in mind, although my thoughts are still somewhat vague, in 2026 I would like to simplify processes such as reflection, record-keeping, and introspection, while consciously increasing the proportion of actual actions—putting my hands to work and taking concrete steps.

What kind of year do you want 2026 to be?

I hope it will be a better year for each of you, one in which you can move forward little by little at your own pace.

Thank you very much for reading.