Resolutions

People tend to think of time like a headstone date. Birth to death. A straight line from the womb to the grave.

I have never felt my life move forward in straight lines. Like the rise and fall of civilizations since time immemorial, life events rarely offer clean beginnings or definitive endings. One season dissolves into another with all of the fluidity Mother Nature can muster.

In this sense, time itself feels cyclical instead of linear.

Auld Lang Syne feels hollow when we kiss our lover at midnight because we’re still deep in winter’s embrace- a time for burrowing down deep for warmth, comfort, and clarity about what is needed for survival when skies are gray and unforgiving and our inner landscape mirrors the same terrain.

Evolution and circadian rhythms insist we slow down: our bodies, our plans, even our serotonin.

Our ancestors knew instinctively that Spring- not January was the true beginning. When you see the first signs of life as Winter loosens its grip, it’s impossible not to feel that ancient pull toward newness. Spring is not a resolution- it’s a threshold.

So, for now, tighten your scarf.

Light a candle.

Remain with Winter’s ruminations.

Let them tell you what is ready to transform when wildflowers bloom in the next cycle of your becoming.