On the beauty of dreaming again

Or the intentions I carry into 2025

I did not plan to write a New Year’s post. Actually, I very much planned not to write a post this week. This space is more spontaneous and organic than that, but I did not want to engage with New Year’s - I rarely do anyway.

I am not “a New Year girlie”. I have a complicated relationship with the holiday. New Year’s Eve is the birthday of a friend who died in high school and sparked the true start of my grieving for her. I hid my grief for years, claiming I viewed New Year’s as a Hallmark Holiday like Valentine’s Day; not enjoying being told when to think or feel certain things and rolling my eyes at the consumerism of it all. (This still feels true, but it was never the full truth.) In welcoming seasonality and nature as kin, I have realized the root of my problem with the prescriptive timing of the day: it feels in deep opposition against what nature is doing. We as humans start new things, make big goals, look for newness, when nature is settling into its deepest rest of the year. The resolutions and fresh starts of New Year’s do not make sense to me in winter, when our bodies crave comfort and coziness.

Grief, consumerism, and tension with nature. It is a lot to carry while others are popping bottles and making lists. I often hunker down with family on New Year’s Eve, metaphorically keeping my eyes low so as to not attract attention to my “scroogey” ways.

I do try to pause at this threshold of time, this changing of years. I do so through the lens of gratitude for the joy and growth of the year we are leaving. It has also been helpful for me to set an intention for the upcoming year, a lens through which to see things or a mantra to carry with me. Sometimes it comes to me, sometimes I seek help. This year, I did Morgan Harper Nicols word of the year reel - my random timing revealing “Reimagining”. I took my screenshot, smiled at how it resonated with me, and moved on.

I love that there is an intentional definition or framing of each word; not something pulled from the dictionary. Try it for yourself!

This week I also decided to engage with voices that I trust and love. Ones that feel safe, that acknowledge nuance and justice. Perspectives that I have loved this past year and want to continue to engage with in 2025. Two essays stand out from my reading yesterday.

In her essay titled, Unfortunately, I Think I Still Need Church, Madison Chastain shares her thoughts on recent Catholic news, the state of our country, and how the misogyny baked into both are inherently linked, if not the same. There is pain and a clear lack of welcome in both spheres. There is trauma and a struggle for hope. And yet. Churches are a place for gathering, for organizing, for belonging to each other. We might not be included by the hierarchies in faith spaces, but if we find an inclusive and safe community, wonderful work can be done in those faith spaces. A reminder I needed as I question many things in my own relationship to faith. (This is a primitive summary of an excellent article. Please do yourself the favor of reading the entire thing!)

Grace E. Kelley wrote us “a small essay for facing 2025 anxiety” called Let Love Lead the Way. She acknowledges the anxieties and fears that this year holds, especially in the United States. But she challenges us to let love be our leader, to engage daily with the community in front of us, to treat everyone with the dignity they inherently have. This quote was particularly comforting to me:

Just because they slap a year name on their very scary sounding project does not mean that they own the year. Just because they put their guy in office, and all the most corrupt minions imaginable does not mean they are the only ones capable of making a difference either.

Reading Madison’s and Grace’s words yesterday helped me realize how powerful of an intention for 2025 “reimagining” is for me. The day after the election I was stunned, walking around in grief that felt both familiar and completely unknown. I spent time with communities I love and people who felt safe. I checked in on loved ones with a lot less privilege than myself. I tried and failed for days to put my grief into words.

I had been so hopeful that if we could elect a qualified, decent human, we could move past some of the bigotry and start to work on actual solutions to problems in this country. A big part of me wanted to trust the system: if we elect Kamala, we wouldn’t be fighting over facts and dignity anymore. Instead we would have the time to debate over things like: how to make sure no child in hungry in our country, how to protect water as a being and a life source, and how to protect the dignity and rights of all persons.

I let myself dream what a country with a real leader at the helm could do for its citizens, the world, and our earth. Well, that dreamer got slapped in early November and told to sit down and shut up. And I did. It felt (feels) dangerous to dream and sometimes reckless to share those dreams out loud. As someone who already does not enjoy engaging with the New Year, heading into a month where Tr*mp is inaugurated again is especially dreadful.

And yet. I am consoled knowing that others are walking into 2025 with the same fear, love, and desires as I am. If people I admire and trust, like Madison and Grace and my Gen Z cousins are letting themselves dream for 2025, then maybe I can too.

I have reimagined what setting goals might look like in this decade of unprecedented times. No longer measurable things that I can cross off of a list, I want to center what spirit I am carrying across this threshold of time. How can I cast dreams and intentions for myself? How do I want to behave? What will lead me through this year? Who do I want to be in deeper relationship with? How do I want my house or my kids to feel? It feels radical to document my dreams for a year full of connection. Here are a few of my answers. I’d love to hear yours.

Words read: 2025 - (re)imagine; caring for each other is a radical act of resistance; our home as a place of peace and safety for all to be full selves; grow in relationship with the being right outside my door (daily time outside, garden); stay curious for wisdom & beauty; own fewer things by 2026