By all accounts, 2017 was one of the more stressful years in our collective history. If nothing else, the arrival of a new year gives us reason to celebrate our tenacity! But as we come upon a new beginning, something strikes me as being a little bit…funny: after the busy-ness of the holiday season, and the reckoning with such an intense year, we seem to still expect ourselves to pick up and jump into a brand new cycle, all systems go. It is funny because, as I look outside…that’s not what nature is doing.

It’s still winter out there, though we live in the desert. The days still end early, and it’s still as cold as it tends to get around here. The beginnings of a new cycle are certainly present, but they remain somewhat hidden in the marrow of still-dry branches, whose rustle seems to whisper: there’s no rush.

It seems wise to approach ourselves in the same way—to give ourselves the room to grow slowly into the new year, taking some first important steps and letting them be enough, leaving some space around our efforts that allows for the mysterious and the as-yet-unknown.

Look, I love a new beginning. I love the excitement and inspiration and fresh energy that comes with it. I am also, like lots of folks, waaaaaay too inclined to expect a speedy fruition from my new-beginning efforts, as though humans were meant to go from 0 to 100 in mere days.

So I’m trying to step a little differently into this year, allowing myself to find my footing as time and terrain change. Yes, I want to practice more often this year, and drink more water. I want to get better at certain things and let others go. I’m willing to put the work in. But I’m not training for a sprint. I’m going more for walking meditation: sensing each footfall, from heel to metatarsal, trying to know the unfolding of my life by feel, rather than by speed. What matters is knowing that those footfalls are heading in the directions I need to move in, and trusting that to be sufficient.

As the new year arrives, we look forward to hearing about your resolutions, aspirations, and goals—as well as your wisdom in trusting the kind of growth that comes when it comes. It’s good to be walking with you.

Much love and thanks for reading,

Erin H