As I was wrapping up work on this issue of Taiwan Panorama, a couple of the trendier new buzzwords kept popping into my head. The first was “duan she li” (literally, “break off, toss out, separate from”). The expression, which refers to a cultivated attitude of detachment from “things,” first appeared in a bestselling Japanese self-help book on eliminating the clutter in your home.

The writer’s thesis is straightforward: if you can’t see the surface of your desk through the clutter, can’t find the clothes you want to wear in your closet, and can’t keep your house tidy, then your life is probably a disorganized mess as well. Tidying up, putting things away, and tossing stuff out will force you to reflect on how important material possessions really are to you, and put you in touch with your inner yearnings and desires.

Another popular new turn of phrase is “bi nian” (literally, “avoiding the [new] year”). It reflects a contemporary lack of interest in the rituals and customs associated with the Lunar New Year. The gist of it is that since passing the holiday in Taiwan means eating the same old New Year’s dishes and seeing the same old New Year’s decorations everywhere you turn, you might as well travel abroad and spend the time taking it easy.

But why be so passive about the holiday? Shouldn’t we instead put our minds to work developing new meanings for the New Year?

This month’s cover story on the search for new ways to celebrate the New Year isn’t simply a rundown of the most exciting places to shop or the aesthetics and symbolism of calligraphic New Year’s couplets. Instead, it looks for deeper metaphorical significance in the holiday.

The festive season shouldn’t simply be exuberant. “Celebrating” doesn’t mean “going wild.” Taiwan Panorama senior writer Sam Ju’s experience visiting the Water-Moon Dharma Center at Tai­pei’s Nung Chan Monastery introduced him to a much more tranquil New Year’s atmosphere (p. 28).

At the New Year, monasteries and temples have an appeal that transcends the religious. Nowadays, more and more people are spending a day or two in them over the holidays to reflect on the previous year, seek blessings for family and friends, and start the new year afresh.

Taiwanese have long gone to temples seeking peace of mind. Nowadays, many are looking for peace of mind on university campuses, the peace of mind that comes of knowing that the milk they purchase is safe to drink.

Our deputy editor, Lin Hsin-­ching, recently visited the dairy farms operated by National Taiwan, Tunghai, and National Chiayi Universities. There she learned that the well-cared-for dairy cows grazing contentedly on broad pastures produce an exceptionally pure milk much prized by consumers (p. 50).

It turns out that the key to great-­tasting milk is in the processing. The universities first rigorously screen their milk to ensure it contains no pesticide residues. They then process the milk using high-temperature, short-time pasteurization, heating it to 80°C for 20–30 seconds to preserve its flavor and the integrity of its immunoglobulins and other nutrients.

This month’s issue also includes a piece on the industrial and cultural vision of Yi­lan’s Nan­fang’ao (p. 70). The 90-year-old mackerel fishing harbor was once a big earner of foreign exchange, but the decline of global fisheries resources has left local cultural workers scrambling to transform the town. Its future is likely to be a harbinger of what’s in store for Taiwan’s other fishing ports.

February will see the arrival of one of the biggest events on Taiwan’s cultural calendar: the 2014 Taipei International Book Exhibition, which will run from February 5 to 10. For all that Taiwan’s publishing industry is wrestling with its ongoing digital transformation, the design and subject matter of Taiwan’s new books remain the pride of the Chinese-speaking world. With readers gathering at the Taipei World Trade Center for the event, we hope old friends and new will drop by the Taiwan Panorama booth to share their thoughts.