I’ve started and stalled many times with this post over the past few weeks, and today I’m going to give myself a break and write something short.
My writing doesn’t need to be perfect, profound, or complete, just as we are not, despite the implications of New Year’s Resolutions. And with the Earth slowly turning each city into the next year, it feels important to come to Substack simply to acknowledge and close off this ever-changing year. To quietly thank all the hands that have helped me through it, and to honour the smiles, the tears, and the wonder, as we navigate this transition.
Showing up, even in this small way, means I don’t dump all the pressure of a return to writing on the first page of the 2026 Substack diary!
I’ve been listening this week to ‘I haven’t been entirely honest with you’, Miranda Hart’s book about her experience of chronic illness and recovery. I hadn’t realised how closely her experiences would echo my own and I’ve found myself relearning familiar lessons, but from a different perspective and I found myself smiling at the way she presents them. Yesterday I was already following her advice for a slower pace in my pootling beside a river, pausing to enjoy the butterflies (which were inevitably camera shy).
What also came up was the lesson of not leaping too far ahead, and only focussing on the next best, and loving step.
I’m seeing the year out in Guatemala, with no job and plenty of uncertainty about what comes in 2026. At the same time, I have an open Word document tentatively mapping out the next eight weeks, punctuated with training dates, the end of my rental period here, and a handful of ideas of possible next steps before the flight home. All of the ideas involve a lot more altitude than I am used to, and significantly fewer creature comforts. What is certain is that I shall be making thousands more steps in 2026 than I did in 2025 and stepping into spaces that I never have before.
This morning I spent time at a local ‘Embodiment ecstatic dance festival’. There was a delicious yoga session, followed by a slightly self-conscious experience of contact-improvisation (a type of free-form dance), and a naked man meditating on a rock.
Yep. That was a surprise to me too.
As with many moments this year, some of these experiences are new to me. Sometimes they are uncomfortable, leading me to recoil, and sometimes my instinct is to lean in. I didn’t lean in (and won’t be doing so in future) to the naked meditation, I hasten to add.
Each year we continue to grow and we may find ourselves expanding our comfort zones, or giving ourselves more permission to stay firmly within them. It is up to us.
However you’re spending today, whether you’re marking the turn or letting it pass by quietly, I hope the coming year brings you steadiness and peace. Thank you for being here and reading and sharing your thoughts. I look forward to sharing more with you in 2026.
There are some juicy things on that Word document, and I really need to press save before I head back down to dance awkwardly amongst strangers.
See you on the other side.
