I’ve always thought of the new year as coming in two parts. There’s the first of January, obviously, and then because my birthday is also in January I think of it as the second part. The world’s new year, and my personal new year.
Since moving to Ireland, I’ve also come to embrace Imbolc at the start of February (especially now that designating St Brigid’s day a bank holiday has given us an extra long weekend to break up the long, cold stretch between New Year’s and Paddy’s Day). Though as far as I know Imbolc was not the traditional start of the new year, it is considered the start of spring in the Irish calendar, and that in itself is a new beginning.
I know not everyone likes new year resolutions, and I understand the argument against. If you want to make a change in your life, you don’t have to tie it to an arbitrary spot on the calendar. But for me, I love to set intentions across the period between New Year’s Day and my birthday, and now Imbolc — basically over the course of January, rather than deciding them on day one, I give myself time to turn them over in my mind, and let them develop.
There’s a bit of ritual to the whole process, sure. I always light a candle, pull a few tarot cards, start a list in my bullet journal, and so on, but mostly it’s the thinking that’s the important part.
At work, we talk about goals in terms of the SMART acronym: specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, time-bound. And some of my resolutions fall into these categories. I did parkrun 17 times last year; this year I’m trying for 20. It’s fun and satisfying to have things to check off the list (two parkruns down, 18 to go).
But some of my resolutions don’t fit a single one of the SMART factors. There’s nothing specific about nourishing my creative soul or time-bound about deepening my relationship to nature. And achievable? How would I even know?
On a similar note, most of my resolutions are the same year after year. Sometimes it’s because I’ve let them slip as the months go by — like the eager January gym-goers whose numbers thin out by April, sometimes life gets in the way. I mostly dropped out of my yoga practice last year, and I’ve updated my blog more times in the three weeks of this year than I did in all of 2024. Sometimes getting started again is as lovely and important as getting started the first time.
Likewise, the intentions that cannot be measured — cultivating creative energy, exploring spiritual growth (or “going full witch” as my best friend called it), striving for a better world — these are resolutions for every year, forever. These are lifelong journeys, not goals that can be completed.
And does it matter? Not a bit. Come next year, I’ll set the same intentions again. And in the time between, these things will begin and they’ll begin and they’ll grow and they’ll end and they’ll begin again, and we’ll see what happens. I look forward to it.
thebestpossibletime 