A Note to the New Year

By the time you’re reading this, January is well underway – almost done actually. The confetti has been swept up, the bold declarations have softened (or been forgotten), and whatever energy the new year arrived with has likely settled into something quieter – and more honest.

For me, that’s when the real work begins.

There’s something about winter that naturally turns me inward. The hush after a snowfall, warmer foods, and long nights seem to signal that it’s time to rest for a while. Or maybe I was a bear in a past life and hibernation just feels familiar. Either way, this season has been no exception – except that this time, I went real deep.

As the weeks unfolded, the snow kept coming … and didn’t really stop. That feels like a pretty clear invitation to slow down, grab a book, and settle in. While everything above ground appears dormant, something quieter is happening below the surface – roots deepening, seeds gathering energy, strength being built in stillness. That’s exactly how this season has felt for me too.

Rather than a novel, I found myself drawn to Women’s Bodies, Women’s Wisdom by Christiane Northrup. And rather than simply reading it cover to cover, I chose to really work with it. She poses thoughtful questions throughout the book, so I grabbed my journal and answered the ones that felt relevant as I went.

I unlocked some things about my body and old childhood hurts that I didn’t realize were buried deep inside. I worked through a few layers, released what I could, and gently held what wasn’t ready to go yet. I even came away with ideas for how to tend to the rest.

Whew! Like I said – I went deep. It’s pretty amazing what can shift with a few good questions and some honest reflection.

Looking back now, it feels a lot like what happens underground in winter. Nothing looks busy from the outside, but vital work is underway – strength being built quietly, nutrients being absorbed, without urgency or display.

And, as I do, I had more going on simultaneously.

The turn of the year also marks the time when I choose a word (or a few words) to guide me forward. This process usually begins quietly sometime in late fall, when I start noticing how I feel about the year that’s ending: what grew well, what struggled, and what kind of conditions I want to create for what comes next.

I gave up big New Year’s resolutions a long time ago in favour of something much softer: guiding words. A theme, if you like. Something that leads rather than pushes.

For example, my guiding words for 2025 were Strong, Active, Connected. Broad, aren’t they? Powerful, yes – but not demanding. They don’t bark orders the way resolutions tend to. They don’t even suggest what kind of strong, active or connected. Once I choose my words, I usually turn them into simple graphics for my phone and desktop wallpaper so they stay quietly present throughout the year, like markers rather than mandates.

As this year settled in, I noticed how naturally reflection and release made space for calm, steadiness, and a surprising sense of certainty. No one told me what to do or how to do it. I simply let my inner knowing take the lead – the way nature does when it knows it’s not time to bloom yet.

That might also explain why I felt so agitated by the relentless “new year, new you” and “crush your goals” messaging this season – to the point where I unfollowed and unsubscribed from a whole lot of accounts. All that push feels especially out of step with winter. Seeds don’t respond well to shouting (I tried – it didn’t work even a little bit).

This year, once my three words arrived, they felt like they wanted to become more. So I turned them into a mantra, making sure to use active language. For illustration purposes only, here’s what I came up with:

“I care for myself by moving, nourishing, and creating.” Short and sweet … just like me!

Looking at it now, I can see how nurture might have worked in place of care – maybe even better for the softer, warmer energy I’m leaning into. But care turned out to be exactly right. It implies attention, presence, tending.

Shortly after creating the mantra, I stumbled upon the idea of making a sigil – a symbolic image created from words or intention – and thought, Oh. I could carry my guiding words as an image. A visual reminder of what I’m quietly growing toward.

I watched a couple of YouTube videos to learn how sigils are created (seriously – how did we learn anything before YouTube?), then got to work. I grabbed my iPad to backlight a letter wheel, a few sheets of paper, and a pencil, and just started playing.

You can make it ceremonial – candles, crystals, the whole thing – but I chose to keep it simple. I tried a few variations to see which version felt right. What surprised me most was how much joy the finished image gave me right away. I didn’t expect that at all.

Could I have stopped with the pencil sketch? Of course.
Did I? Absolutely not!

I kept playing – colouring it with pencils, then importing it into Canva to make my screensavers. I tweaked backgrounds for at least an hour before finally handing it off to AI to clean up a line I just couldn’t get right. The final result still makes me smile every time my phone, iPad, or desktop lights up.

I’m not going to share my personal sigil here, but I will share an example of the process. This one is based on a mantra from someone in my Facebook community – not mine – but it gives you the idea.

You can see how the one image almost looks like a spider’s web – ready to collect all that goodness. The simplified version has space in it’s heart/core to take it all in. I’m sure there are even more variations that could be made. You can just play around with it until you create one that sings to you.

Even though this post reaches you later in January – or perhaps exactly when you need it – it’s not too late to reflect on what’s come before and gently tend to what’s taking shape now. There’s no need for push or pressure – just rest, attention, and strength, quietly gathering underground.

If you have a New Year practice you return to – formal or informal – I’d love to hear about it. Leave a note in the comments or over on Facebook. And may this year be happy, healthy, and quietly prosperous for you.

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GAH! I can’t leave you hanging like this! Here’s my sigil …

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