01/01/2026
As we transition into a new calendar year, I’ve been really aware of conflicting narratives about what New Year is meant to signify.
As you might know from reflections I’ve shared before, I’m fairly resistant to the whole “new year, new me” narrative. The idea that New Year means shedding our old selves overnight, so that we can we be reborn as a new, improved and more productive version gets a big no from me.
At the same time, I also feel some resistance to the counter-argument that dismisses the January new year entirely: that for most of human history the year began at the spring equinox, so this moment shouldn't hold any weight.
If that argument leads us to lose an opportunity to connect with a threshold and mark a transition, for me, something important gets lost. And we’ve already lost so many shared transitions and rites of passage in contemporary culture.
Whether a tradition is cultural or personal, it’s one of the ways we make meaning in the world. Tradition, and marking thresholds, orient us in time.
I’ve spoken before about the importance of holding multiple truths; the both/and rather than the either/or. That feels especially relevant here. Yes, we are still in the depths of winter.
The land is quiet (where you are, not so much where I am right now!), energy is low and we might feel drawn towards slowness and rest.
That doesn’t magically disappear on the 1st of January. And, whether we honour it or not, we have crossed a threshold from one calendar year into another. Something has ended. Something new has started. Marking thresholds matters, not because they promise redemption, but because they help us to register that time is moving and that we are moving with it.
I’ve shared some more reflections about this on my patron, as well as resources to support you to explore this more deeply. But, for now, I’m wishing you a Happy New Year and a gentle stepping over the threshold, what ever that looks like for you.
#2026