A Gentle Year-End Ritual I Return to Every Holiday Season

The holiday season can be such a tender mix.

There’s joy — traditions, family moments, familiar rhythms.

And there’s also reflection — looking back on the year that’s passed and quietly wondering what you hope for in the year ahead.

Every year, I return to a simple practice that helps me slow down and take stock. It’s not about rigid goal-setting or “fixing” myself — it’s more about creating a few gentle guideposts for what I want to carry forward.

The Ritual (Simple, Grounding, Yours to Make Your Own)

This practice doesn’t need to be elaborate. Mine usually looks like this:

  • I roll out a yoga mat or settle into a cozy spot

  • Make myself a really good cup of tea

  • Coordinate with my husband so I can have uninterrupted “me” time

  • Grab a journal and pen

  • Light a candle I love

  • Put on calming music, a short meditation from Insight Timer, or a bilateral stimulation playlist on Spotify

Once I’m settled, I sit comfortably, sometimes close my eyes, and take a few slow breaths.

From there, I gently reflect:

  • What went well this past year?

  • What felt hard or didn’t unfold the way I hoped?

  • What goals did I meet — and which ones remained unfinished?

Then I look ahead:

  • What do I want from the year to come?

  • What feels important to prioritize?

  • What support or resources might I need to move toward the things that matter most to me?

Choosing a Word for the Year Ahead

The final part of this ritual is choosing a word for the year.

After reflecting on where you’ve been and what you’re longing for, a word may come easily — or it may take time to land. There’s no rush.

At the end of 2019 — my first postpartum year, a season that truly brought me to my knees — I realized how much growth and resilience had come from the deepest parts of me. My word for that year was depths.

With that awareness, I knew my word for 2020 had to be rising.

Now, when I practice mindfulness or meditation and my mind inevitably wanders (because that’s what minds do), I gently return to my word. It becomes an anchor — a way to come back to the present moment and to myself.

An Invitation

If you feel called to try this practice, I hope it offers you even a small sense of clarity or grounding as you move into the new year.

There’s no “right” way to reflect. No pressure to choose the perfect word. Just an opportunity to pause, honor what you’ve lived through, and gently name what you hope for next.

Take care of yourself — and wishing you a steady, supported start to the new year. 💛

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