Calendars are interesting. We start our new calendar year on January 1st (happy 2026 everyone!), we start and end fiscal years (in schools anyway) at the end of June/first of July, and school begins in August now, ending before June begins for some of us. All of these beginnings and endings offer opportunities for reflection, setting and resetting of goals, and resolute moments to improve ourselves, our lives, our practice.
Somehow, though, it is the January 1st occasion that prompts the most drastic of declarations. My husband, a self-professed gym rat, detests the infusion of well-intentioned exercisers that arrive in January. But, then again, they are mostly “done” before the month is over. So many of us declare an end to our vices, vow to improve our health and fitness by pushing away alcohol and sugar, promise to read X number of books by the end of the year…the list goes on. Unfortunately, these traditional resolutions don’t work for many and are often abandoned shortly into the new year.
There’s a group of people who moved from resolutions to finding a guide word for the year. I tried this for a few years. The first year (when I declared my word “play”) worked out well–I really did frame my actions through the lens of play that year. But then again, maybe that was where I was heading anyway. After a few years, I struggled to find a word that resonated and I let the practice of looking for a guide word fall by the wayside.
Last year, on New Year’s Day, I stumbled upon a new muse for my year and declared 2025 the year of the sea star. And all through the year sea stars and other tide pool critters inspired me, greeted me, taught me life lessons, and generally kept me moving forward with more joy than I expected. I continued to learn more about the qualities of sea stars–their propensity for self-healing, their flexibility and tenacity, and the ways they evoke wonder and awe in those who see them.
So how do you top a sea star year? I continue to spend plenty of time in our local tide pools and have been treated to so many amazing tide pool creature sightings: octopuses, sea hares, brittle stars, giant sea stars, bat stars, nudibranchs, wavy turban snails, and the list continues. So of course, as the King Tides returned over New Year’s again this year, I was on the beach. I feel like my heart lives there, beating in and out with the rhythms of the waves, salt water flowing through my veins, my breaths mingling with those of migrating whales and playful dolphins. And as I turned to walk back toward my car on the other end of the of the beach, I saw it…
This heart reminds me to cherish what is right in front of me: my family and friends, the ocean and other fragile natural places, the work that fills me with purpose. Maybe this is a sign to pay careful attention this year. To notice what others miss, to share my insights, to care with my full heart.
Even with a full heart, I know there is room for more generosity, more empathy, more love. That is how I am stepping into 2026.
What does 2026 hold for you? How do you find your muse? I’d love to hear about your journey into the new year.
Thinking Through My Lens 