There’s something about the end of a year that naturally invites reflection: what worked, what didn’t, what we want to carry forward, and what we’re ready to change.
I’m not making a traditional new years resolution. I’m simply choosing to pick a word with meaning that will spark something inside me. I see it as an undercurrent or like an umbrella covering the year.
As I thought about the year ahead, I found myself remembering the last time I truly felt productive and connected to myself. I thought about and chose my new word for the year, which is possibility. This word feels like an invitation to one of my superpowers, which is optimism mixed with curiosity and creativity.
After deciding my word i pulled out my art supplies and began working. I remembered the piece I created on December 31, 2023, and decided to follow that same process again. I felt like I should begin this year the same way.
Of course, it had to be a portrait. She’s resting her head on her hand, thinking. Present. Open. Listening inward. It’s a quiet meditation I repeat every day. That’s what possibility feels like to me—not loud or forced, just… available. Finishing at midnight felt like crossing a soft threshold into the new year, and it felt great.
Lately, I’ve been healing in quiet ways: picking up a pen, a brush, and letting myself play. I miss writing. I miss painting. I miss singing. This year, I’m holding space for all of it; for what can happen, for small wins, for unfinished things, for creativity that doesn’t ask permission. I will be sharing what I’m doing.
Some days will look like creating for ten minutes. Some days will be spent resting without guilt. Some days will simply be showing up and letting my hands move—and that will be enough. I’m grateful to be alive and happy with all the possibilities the future holds.