01/01/2026
As the year comes to a close, I’ve been thinking about an intention I shared back in January, written in the quiet stretch between my mother’s death and the first new moon of the year.
I chose a single word not as a goal or a resolution, but as a way to stay tethered to presence when everything felt unmanageable.
Noticing.
I tied it to the lunar cycle, like I often do with intentions, trusting that the moons would remind me to return to check in with how I was paying attention or if I had drifted.
What I didn’t know then was how much noticing would carry me.
This year asked me to notice joy and grief as it moved and changed. To notice my body’s limits and quiet capacities. To notice land, plants, seasons, and the small, living details that continue even when life feels paused. I noticed how often transformation arrived not in moments of complete clarity, but in subtler ways, through repetition, patience, and staying with what was already here.
And I noticed my mother everywhere.
In the way I slow down near a plant I don’t recognize. In the habit of watching birds longer than necessary. In remembering that attention itself is a form of love.
As we stand on the threshold of a new year, I’m super grateful I didn’t ask myself to become anything different in 2025.
I only wanted to see.
Happy New Year, sweet friends. Cheers to more opportunities to notice all the things together 🥂✨
