There’s something powerful about finally admitting that some baggage has overstayed its welcome by nearly a decade. It’s not just a release. It’s a quiet act of self-respect. Here’s to leaving those old weights exactly where they belong: in the rearview of 2025. May 2026 feel lighter from the very first day.
Thank you. Those words mean a lot, especially this close to the turning of the year. I’m glad the guidance landed at the right moment. Wishing you a gentle close to 2025 and a wide-open, lighter 2026.
Good idea amist the busy holiday season to sit with ourselves and think about what no long serves us. It made me think of this somatic healing event recently where we wrote one thing that felt heavy in life on a bay leave and let go of it.
That practice sounds profoundly simple and powerful. Writing down the one heavy thing and letting the bay carry it away... there’s a kind of elemental release in that, handing it over to something vast and indifferent.
You’re absolutely right about this season. Amid all the motion and obligation, carving out space to notice what no longer serves us feels almost radical. Thank you for the reminder and for sharing such a beautiful ritual.
May the water take whatever you released, and may the year ahead feel noticeably lighter because of it.
This inspired a thought—what if on the back of the bay leaf we write the lesson we learned from what we’re releasing? Even one word, like boundaries or attachment. Over time, we get gratitude out of this. Curious what you think.
That twist is brilliant. Writing the burden on one side of the bay leaf, then flipping it to capture the lesson on the other—it turns release into something generative rather than just subtractive. Over time, you end up with a small collection of distilled wisdom: the cost of the old pattern paired with the insight that frees you from repeating it.
I was reading your blog and realized we were essentially writing about the same thing. In my post, I used a Chinese saying that means something like, “If the old doesn’t leave, the new can’t come.” :)
This is a great post, and I'm letting some things stay in 2025 that should have stayed in 2016 💕
There’s something powerful about finally admitting that some baggage has overstayed its welcome by nearly a decade. It’s not just a release. It’s a quiet act of self-respect. Here’s to leaving those old weights exactly where they belong: in the rearview of 2025. May 2026 feel lighter from the very first day.
Thing that don't deserve to enter 2026
Beautiful and timely! Thank you for the guidance.
Thank you. Those words mean a lot, especially this close to the turning of the year. I’m glad the guidance landed at the right moment. Wishing you a gentle close to 2025 and a wide-open, lighter 2026.
Good idea amist the busy holiday season to sit with ourselves and think about what no long serves us. It made me think of this somatic healing event recently where we wrote one thing that felt heavy in life on a bay leave and let go of it.
amidst ;)
That practice sounds profoundly simple and powerful. Writing down the one heavy thing and letting the bay carry it away... there’s a kind of elemental release in that, handing it over to something vast and indifferent.
You’re absolutely right about this season. Amid all the motion and obligation, carving out space to notice what no longer serves us feels almost radical. Thank you for the reminder and for sharing such a beautiful ritual.
May the water take whatever you released, and may the year ahead feel noticeably lighter because of it.
This inspired a thought—what if on the back of the bay leaf we write the lesson we learned from what we’re releasing? Even one word, like boundaries or attachment. Over time, we get gratitude out of this. Curious what you think.
That twist is brilliant. Writing the burden on one side of the bay leaf, then flipping it to capture the lesson on the other—it turns release into something generative rather than just subtractive. Over time, you end up with a small collection of distilled wisdom: the cost of the old pattern paired with the insight that frees you from repeating it.
"Frees you from repeating it" — I love it.
It serves as a reminder. The lessons can correlate to journal entries too.
I was reading your blog and realized we were essentially writing about the same thing. In my post, I used a Chinese saying that means something like, “If the old doesn’t leave, the new can’t come.” :)