The Possibility of Newness

I’ve never been one for New Year's resolutions, but I do get seduced by the promise of a fresh start. A new year, a new week. A new journal. A new box of crayons (it has been a while, but I still remember the joys of a crisp new crayon).

You name it. I love the possibility of newness. 

But as I get older and, ahem, wiser, I realize that I used to view newness as an opportunity to do it again and do it better.

An opportunity to be more productive or efficient.

An opportunity to stick to a healthy diet. Or adhere to a goal or routine that would fix a problem I believed I had.

A fresh start was a chance for me to fix what was broken or not good enough. (Thanks for that conditioning, capitalism)

And I met the newness with big expectations and momentum. I would be so focused and committed.

Inevitably, my excitement would wane and I would settle back into my familiar and, as I perceived it at the time, less than ideal, routine. I would settle into a heap of self-judgment and shame—fueled by the believe that I was somehow flawed and incapable of the success I desired.

Until recently, I don’t think I was fully aware of this cycle of judgment. It didn’t feel great, but it was so automatic that I identified with it.

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This year, I'm greeting the new year more gently, and with way less expectations and judgment.

I'm allowing myself to be held by the slow and quiet of the season.

I’m allowing the darkness that creeps into my mornings and afternoons.

I’m spending more time reading in front our the fireplace, carving out space to stretch and massage my muscles, journaling in the mornings before the sun rises. All while drinking endless amounts of herbal tea. 

I’m intentionally entering this new year as I ended December—with reflection, quiet, and purpose. I still have goals and big plans for the year ahead, but they are more about who I am BEING than what I am doing.

I’m allowing myself more space to explore.

I did a lot of reflecting on my priorities over the past 12 months, and I noticed that the way I spend the majority of my time doesn’t reflect my values or the rhythm of life I’m drawn to.

So I wrote a list from the prompt What I am drawn to…

Spoiler alert: I prioritized very few of these in the last few years.

slowness
seasonal ebbs and flows
ritual
deeply sourced power
nourishment 
quirkiness
intuitive design
boldness
kismet
synergy
putting pen to paper
generative conversations & collaborations
fluid movement
sunrises
sunsets
focused creative exploration
long walks 
time in and around water
breaking bread with others
AWE
working with color and texture
play 
experimentation

This year, I’m prioritizing more of what I’m drawn to.

I’m allowing more space.

What about you?

What are you drawn to? And what are ways you can bring more of these qualities and things into your daily life? 

xo, Beth