The All/And of the New Year

plus an upcoming book announcement

Friends,

It is hard to understand how time works, but here we are, inching toward the end of another calendar year. I’m currently back in bed with my dogs and books of poetry huddled around me (I received Billy Collins’ newest for Christmas and my god I love it so much!) and I’m so grateful to get to write to you today.

As we enter in, I want to share a poem I wrote about time right before Christmas. I hope you like it, and that it encourages you to write your own words on time:

I was 36 years old
When I discovered
That time stretches
Like saltwater taffy,
Like silly putty 
Molded by a child
into a Long thin line
Only to be pulled free again. 

Some think time is a cycle,
Some measure it with a
Long slender ruler, but now
I cannot get away from its
Nature of mystery, that what
I think might be time has suddenly 
Changed before my eyes.

How can time feel so timeless?
How can it fold in on itself?
How am I folded in on my own life?

I once traveled from Turtle Island
To the North of Ireland, and on
The flight back home, I found that
Time made no difference to me,
Nor I to it, except that we needed
One another to remember how
The universe is supposed to work.

We befriended each other in
New ways, learning the patterns 
That trace our dance around
Each morning and night,
The shapes of shadows and 
Light that remind us we are
Never truly alone. 

Time is not clocks, and even though
It is the seasons that shift around us,
It is the elements that bring us back
To ourselves, the inner seasons that
Mold and stretch us, unending and
Sometimes insecure, seasons of total
Liminality that demand we become
Like putty in order to fall back
Into our own sacred realities.

Somehow, time is the presence
That calls dreams from us
And asks us to consider
What it means to come home,
What it means to believe
That time is the very thing that 
Makes us long for
A life of  presence
In the first place. 

Imagine that today, as we head into the new year, I am coming to you holding a giant basket, asking you to place all of yourself in it—all of you, every bit and piece, everything. That’s the energy I’m taking into 2025, because I’ve noticed that in all of our hopes to not be this-or-that about the new year, we end up accidentally gathering at the extreme edges once again.

Photo by Paul Morley on Unsplash

I’ve seen posts the last few weeks about how a “new you” doesn’t exist in the new year, to simply embrace who you are and keep it steady. Yes.

And at the same time, I am also seeing many posts of peoples hopes to begin again in the new calendar year. Yes.

I want to say yes to all of it. Put everything you are into the basket and let it carry you through.

A friend recently joked, “I know you’re all about liminality,” and I chuckled to myself. I can’t seem to get away from it, even if I tried. It not only follows me; it is me, and I’d argue it is so many of us.

And in these spaces, during seasonal changes, calendar year changes, it all shows up at this time in different ways.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

So I offer liminality as another way to lean into the coming year, so that we aren’t gathered at the edges of ourselves and each other.

The all/and of the new calendar year means we can dream of who we are becoming and we can hold gratitude for who we are right now.

We can make plans and hold them loosely; we can embrace it all.

Alongside liminality, I’ve been loving the embodiment of paradox lately.

Paradox is out of the box thinking, and I want us to consider stepping out of ALL THE BOXES this year. Isn’t it different to imagine that, instead of checking boxes, you’re placing all of yourself in a basket that will be tenderly carried?

Isn’t it different to say yes to all of who you are so that you can tend to yourself in the new year, whatever that means?

So let’s put this to practice together.

As we head into the new year, choose two words or phrases that everyone else might tell you wouldn’t go together. I want you to intentionally honor how they come together in your life, and dream of how you’ll create liminal space for both in 2025.

Here are a few examples of things people think don’t go together, but can absolutely coexist in our lives:

being a fierce truth-teller and gentle guide (this one is mine)

longing for newness/loving myself now

creating new habits/honoring my daily journey

working harder/resting better

setting better boundaries/saying yes to what matters

How can you invite paradox, liminality, the surprising and seemingly impossible, into your orbit?

Embracing the all-ness of ourselves brings space for imagination, care, and a new way forward.

---

And now, a really exciting announcement!

As we head into the calendar new year, I’m thinking about the Anishinaabe new year, which we celebrate every Spring. The exciting news is that my newest book in the Indigenous Celebration of Nature Series is now out for Pre-order!

I can’t wait to tell you more about Dani’s adventure in this story soon, but for now, just know that it’s a journey of facing fears, honoring the nervous system, and relying on Mother Earth and her creature kin to remember who she is.

We can embrace all of who we are. We are held and known there.

You can check out a sneak peek and links to pre-order here!

Happy new year, friends. Onward.