A New Year

You’d think Dana and I were duck people, given this table next to our living room window. Not really, but there’s a few decorative pieces and plants that bring life to that living room. And memories. And I like the candle lit — amazing what a simple small candle can to bring a centering energy.

So, 2026 is here. Like many, I can celebrate the newness. A few extra intentions that so often come about at the turning of the year. Like many, I can feel the excitements and generally want to follow that. It’s discipline to lean in to what gives life and to what creates life.

Like many, I can also feel the anxieties and angsts that are difficult to comprehend and to integrate. It’s discipline not to get hijacked by injustices and power plays that lead with what is not genuine. When What The Fuck becomes so much the common and repeated emotive of the day, well it means we’ve got some actions to take and friendships to rekindle and centering to reclaim. Oy!

So, I’ll come back to this action, sharing this inspiration from James Crews, a Vermont-based writer, teacher, guide. He writes a piece called, The Weekly Pause that I’m glad to have landing in my inbox. I love the line, “curls will no longer be enough; you want whole loaves of joy.”

This New Year
James Crews

This new year,
crumbs will no longer be enough.
You want whole loaves of joy,
feast of exuberance laid out
on the table of each waiting day.
You want awe for the smallest things —
drop of honey lifted off the plate
with a fingertip, that kiss of summer,
and Ball Jars of bone broth left
to cool on the back of the stove,
golden and healing. No resolution
could ever live up to the feeling
of just being here, sprinting into
the new year like a child let loose
from parents in the park, running
and running without a destination
into the open arms of the air.

Here’s to the open arms, and to the loaves of joy we might find, bake, and share.

Here we are. On we go.