Reflections on closing out the year.

Hello Friend,

Well, we're here. The last week of the year. And you made it.

Perhaps pause for a moment.

This moment here, right now, and breathe.

Or feel your feet on the floor.

Or look around the space you're in right now.

Perhaps even celebrate this moment.

Knowing that no matter what, in this moment, you are enough.

Perhaps acknowledge all that has happened to lead you here.

It might be tempting to start to pick apart, to dissect, to analyze, to rue. But see if you can shift attention from that activity of mind and simply be.

Be with this body.

Be with this breath.

Be with this moment.

As we move into the end of the year, there can be the pressure, or the desire, to plan the upcoming year.

To set intentions or resolutions.

To envision a new future.

And don't get me wrong, I love the practice of planning. Of dreaming. Of contemplating what I want to build, grow, and nourish. But there is a delicate balance with this practice.

Often, many of these plans can be rooted in the idea of improvement.

To be better. To optimize.

The meditation teacher Bob Sharples has shared the idea of "the subtle aggression of self-improvement."

How our goals and intentions to improve become ways in which we judge ourselves rather than provide nourishment.

How they become ways to measure our value rather than inspire.

The purpose of creating an intention or planning for the upcoming year is to support our individual growth, not cut us down.

And unsurprisingly, all this got me thinking about trees. When I look outside my window, I highly doubt the trees in my neighborhood are working on their 1-3-5 year plans.

No, they're resting.

They have dropped their leaves. Their roots are nestled deep in the soil.

They are preparing for a new season of growth by going deep and restoring.

And so perhaps over these next few days, you too explore this balance.

Perhaps take time to reflect, to plan, to begin to craft intentions, goals, or resolutions.

But also, take time to pause. To rest. To acknowledge that you are here, in this moment.

And I’ll leave you here with a poem.

A poem I've revisited a few times throughout the past year, by Nikita Gill.

She writes,

Everyday is not an opportunity

to improve yourself.

Some days are just there

for you to accept yourself

and look at the clouds.

This too is growth.

This too is rising.

Just existing is enough

on some days.

The flowers do it everyday

and make the world more beautiful

just by being here.

So do you.

✌🏻+💗

Diana