The one where we don't make a resolution.
And the quiet calm that comes with blending the years together.
Hello friend,
My inbox is sagging under the weight of How To Be A Better Person, conveniently converging with the hangover of yeast rolls, late-night pudding and Hallmark movies.
I’ve long found the onslaught of resolution marketing and post-Christmas-spend-spending to be a bit on the nose but lately, it feels dystopian.
Five years ago we sat on the precipice of a new decade, toasting our bounty or mourning a year that reneged on its promises, clueless to the global chaos that would soon engulf us. On that evening, December 31st, 2019, dressed in sequins or soft pyjamas, the sales and promotions and calls to make Next Year Your Best Year seemed achingly obvious and trite.
These days, they make me question our connection to humanity.
Not to be a party pooper, but 2024 wasn’t our best year.
We missed our climate goal and ended up living through some of the most extreme weather in recorded history.
Inflation and the cost of living crisis have left many of our community members without homes or security.
Depression in kids is rising and everyone is more addicted to their tech than ever.
Long-COVID has stolen the freedom of millions of people.
Wars millions of others.
Not to mention the personal battles fought behind closed doors and sunglasses.
Snapping up “bargains” or mindlessly subscribing to another recipe app seems incongruent with humanity’s larger quandary, and far removed from the unity and recalibration that was discarded along with millions of sourdough starters by the end of 2021.
(Says the woman who last year bought two separate recipe apps that she never used and spent a nauseating amount on the expert fluff of gurus in her 20s.)
It takes fortitude to hit Delete All on things that don’t matter and instead immerse ourselves in nature or music or painting by candlelight or cups of tea on the neighbour’s couch.
To choose an alternate entry point to the new year.
Of course, doing so isn’t going to directly change the systemic challenges that we face but in our intentionality exists a recalibration, which if done en-masse could have a ripple effect greater than personal self-care.
So let’s consider two options.
(Not an exhaustive list, obviously!)
We can start 2025 with a bang, the blinding light of fireworks overhead and our top 3 resolutions saved as passwords – Wealth. Growth. Body.
Or we can enter through the cellar door, overgrown with vines and heavy with the must of our forebears. A quiet passage that traverses time, a dot-to-dot of life sketching our arc in hushed brush strokes, year building upon year, each one unique and delicately dependant on the one that came before.
The back door encourages us to offer thanks and acceptance for who we’ve already been (our younger versions are precious and not to be swept away in the condemnation of future promises) and allows our eyes to focus on the parts of the story that matter.
Tomorrow is a new year but it’s also just another Wednesday.
I have aspirations for 2025 that can neither be bought nor rushed or hacked. They’ll be slipped in intentionally amongst the life-ing, act as cushioning for the mistakes I’ll make and hopefully magnify the wonders that I’ll be blessed to receive (there are wonders everywhere if you look). From the outside, it may not look like growth at all, which makes me smile into my Sleepy Time tea.
As for tonight, may we turn to rituals that help us feel grounded and connected to the cosmos, without the pressure of mainstream progress.
Here are some things I’ll be reflecting on. Please do share some ideas of your own below.
Family: how intentional were we in staying true to our values, how have we changed individually and what does that mean for our “unit”? What needs to be shifted or amplified to deepen our bond in 2025?
Personal Responsibility: how have I shown up for myself, grown in authenticity, and taken ownership of my mistakes? What practices must I adopt or release next year to feel like the most true version of myself?
Community & Climate: my son and I saw a sign in the Sydney museum that resonated with me - “the worst thing you can do for the planet is assume that someone else is taking care of it.” This tracks for our natural environment but also our social communities and is a good reminder to be the friend I want to be.
Until next year,
Stay well.
Jennifer Dene xx