What was 2022 like for you?
How did it stretch you?
What gifts or griefs did it hold?
Where did it leave you feeling stuck or confused?
What were your greatest moments of joy and contentment?
What patterns or cycles did you observe in your feelings & actions?
What surprised you?
What is something you learned that you’d like to take with you?
What do you need to acknowledge, celebrate or release before you move into a new year?
What do you long for more (or less) of in the year to come? What do you want to invite in?
This is not about making a list of goals or trying to improve yourself or your life.
It’s just about noticing—becoming a little more conscious of what’s happening within you and around you, and a little bit clearer about what feels important right now.
I’ll share a little bit more about how this information might be helpful next week.
Spring feels like a faraway dream, but I can picture it in when I read this poem (which also feels perfect in the depths of winter, as we reflect back on the past year):
Instructions on Not Giving Up
by Ada Limón
“More than the fuchsia funnels breaking out
of the crabapple tree, more than the neighbor’s
almost obscene display of cherry limbs shoving
their cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slate
sky of Spring rains, it’s the greening of the trees
that really gets to me. When all the shock of white
and taffy, the world’s baubles and trinkets, leave
the pavement strewn with the confetti of aftermath,
the leaves come. Patient, plodding, a green skin
growing over whatever winter did to us, a return
to the strange idea of continuous living despite
the mess of us, the hurt, the empty. Fine then,
I’ll take it, the tree seems to say, a new slick leaf
unfurling like a fist to an open palm, I’ll take it all.”
As always, thank you. What a beautiful list and pause. The poem is getting printed and taped to the office window.