Good mornin’, happy Monday.
Well, here we are…..a new year, and that familiar feeling of fresh starts and clean slates.
It’s also that time of year when RSP season rolls around, TFSA top-ups come back into focus, and we all pause, briefly, to take stock of where things stand.
So, we just cruised through another weekend, and another reminder that markets don’t take days off, even when we try to.
Tariff threats resurfacing. Gold and silver quietly climbing. Europe navigating familiar tensions. And somehow, once again, Greenland finding its way back into the conversation. History suggests that when Greenland makes headlines, we’re usually not talking about icebergs, we’re talking about geopolitics. Or, occasionally, what sounds suspiciously like a real estate negotiation.
It’s easy to laugh, but the pattern is familiar. Greenland isn’t suddenly important. It always was. What’s changed is the backdrop. Arctic routes matter again. Resource security matters again. Global posture is being re-evaluated. And when the environment shifts, familiar places start to behave differently, not dramatically, but meaningfully.
Orientation Without Certainty
That feels like a useful place to pause, especially today.
Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and moments like this tend to bring his words back into focus. Martin Luther King Jr. understood something markets eventually relearn the hard way: progress rarely arrives through force or certainty. It comes through direction, discipline, and a willingness to keep moving when clarity hasn’t fully arrived.
King spoke often about orientation, about knowing where you stand even when the path ahead isn’t fully visible. About staying anchored to principle without mistaking stillness for strength. About movement guided by values as the world changes and evolves. That posture, anchored, but not rigid, shows up in culture and in markets, too.
Times they are a Changin’
Over the weekend, my daughter Dilynn was asking me about Bob Dylan. (Our kids are named after a few musicians.) She wasn’t really asking about his songs as much as she was curious about his story, how he moved through the world. So, I told her one that feels fitting for the moment we find ourselves in.
In the early 1960s, Dylan was the voice of the folk movement. You can picture him with an acoustic guitar, quietly rhyming protest songs that seemed to fit neatly into a clear category. But Blowin’ in the Wind didn’t offer answers, it asked better questions. How long can injustice persist? How long can suffering be ignored?
Blowin’ in the Wind wasn’t a song about change arriving, it was a song about truth already present, waiting to be noticed. But truth doesn’t stand still. As the world around it shifts, the way it’s carried must shift too. What once whispered clearly can fade into background noise. When that happens, fidelity sometimes requires amplification, not abandonment.
A few years later, Dylan stepped onto the stage at Newport with an electric guitar. The reaction was immediate. The boos and the backlash wasn’t really about sound, they were about disorientation. The audience wanted continuity because continuity had worked. They wanted the protest singer, the folk purist, the voice they recognized.
But Dylan wasn’t rejecting the meaning he’d been carrying all along. He was responding to a world that could no longer hear it the same way.
He didn’t argue. He didn’t retreat. He didn’t explain himself to make anyone comfortable. He trusted direction before consensus.
That posture matters for us, in markets, and in life.
Not Crisis. Not Clarity.
Today, on the market front, inflation seems to have cooled from its extremes, but it hasn’t disappeared. Central banks are no longer in emergency mode, but they’re not exactly relaxed either. Rate cuts are expected, debated, delayed… then expected again. Growth is holding, but uneven. Corporate earnings have been more resilient than many feared, even as margins face pressure from wages, geopolitics, and tighter financial conditions.
In other words, we’re certainly not in crisis…but we’re not in clarity either.
This is usually where the urge to do something kicks in, not because the data is screaming, but because uncertainty is uncomfortable.
January tends to amplify that impulse. A new year creates pressure to declare a game plan, as if the year ahead is going to politely cooperate. If you did set some resolutions, I hope they’re still serving you well….you’re nineteen days in, nice work! Historically, this is about where optimism meets reality.
In our investing world, though, transition years rarely reward rigidity. They tend to reward portfolios, and people, that can absorb change without forcing decisions.
Rigidity Is the Risk
The biggest risk right now isn’t volatility. It’s rigidity. Holding onto a narrative after the facts have shifted. Confusing conviction with inflexibility.
In periods like this, change rarely arrives all at once. It shows up gradually. Assumptions begin to bend. Timing starts to matter more. Valuations, once justified by stability, start to carry more weight. What looks expensive gets questioned, and what was overlooked starts to matter again.
And it’s worth saying: these moments aren’t just about managing risk. They’re also where opportunity quietly begins to surface.
We’re starting to see that across geographies…in Canada, in the U.S., and in global markets more broadly. Shifts in policy, pricing, and expectations are creating pockets where fundamentals matter again, where valuation discipline matters again, and where patience is being rewarded.
This isn’t about chasing themes or making bold calls. It’s about recognizing that when certainty fades and narratives loosen, dispersion increases. And that’s often where thoughtful, long-term capital finds its footing.
Orientation for the Year Ahead
So here we are, January 19th….yes, where our resolutions often go sideways.
Most of us don’t fail because people lack discipline, we fall off because we assume a fixed future. We lock in behaviors without leaving room to learn, we confuse commitment with control. But the truth behind the commitment is that real progress is rarely linear. It’s iterative. It’s responsive.
Dylan didn’t stop being Dylan when he went electric. He stayed anchored, just not frozen. He stayed in motion as the song changed.
That feels like a useful frame for this moment.
Not certainty, orientation.
Dylan put it plainly: “The times they are a-changin’.” Not as a threat, just as a fact of life. A reminder that standing still can sometimes be riskier than moving carefully forward.
As we look toward the year ahead, a few things worth remembering…not to resolve immediately, but to return to as the months unfold:
- Where am I chasing certainty simply to feel settled, and where might adaptability serve me better?
- What rhythms do I want this year shaped by…urgency and reaction, or intention and direction?
- What does it look like to stay anchored this year without becoming rigid?
You don’t need to know exactly where the year will take you, only how you want to move through it.
Dylan once said, “You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.”
You don’t have to predict the wind. Just pay attention to how it’s moving and set your posture accordingly.
Every year is a “transition” year….in any given year, month, or week or day for that matter, the answers rarely arrive all at once. They reveal themselves gradually, blowin’ in the wind, for those paying attention to balance, valuation, and direction rather than certainty.
Be well, and enjoy the moments
Derek Henderson