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“I don’t know what this year holds, but I’m excited to see what comes along my path for me to choose.”

To be brave is to do things through the fear. It is to stand on the ledge and leap. It is to open your mouth and speak truth. It is to activate change in your life. It is to see fear not as something to struggle against but to flow with.

January feels like sitting in front of a blank piece of paper. But for me, it’s all pencil in January; it’s all dreamy. I’m not a resolution person. There’s never been a year where my plans for my life held higher than what Source had in store for me.

I can stand tall in this big, beautiful-and-agonizing world and make things happen but only to a point. I don’t have as much agency as I think I do. You don’t have as much agency as you think you do. My paper full of pencil markings are all just ideas and places where I can focus, a future-me I’m actively walking into and one I’m learning to even see.

The transition to a new calendar year is a simple opportunity to latch onto the psychology of new beginnings and use the power of endings to see anew. To open our eyes and see a glimpse of the bigger picture.

I turn around on December 31st and look back. Reflection comes easily to me. Being introspective is built into who I am. I have a whole extra serving of it, though, and some days, that robust introspection is painful. It’s a superhero skill from surviving the things that have happened to me, of my C-PTSD, this introspection, this overthinking, this brain that feels like a tangled ball of yarn, thoughts intersecting, knotted, and touching every other yarn thought. Some days, I love it. Some days, I hate it. Most days, it just feels like part of me.

Looking behind me on December 31st, I look to the January-me from 12 months ago, and I laugh. I laugh because she had no idea what was on her path! I laugh because, while I made strides in what I wanted to work on, the minor whisper-whiffs in the periphery of my focus made the highlight reel. I laugh because I couldn’t have made up some of what happened to me last year if I had been writing fiction.

I look to the January-me from 12 months ago, and I shed a tear. A tear for what is no longer. For what was released, whether by choice or circumstance. Because grief is never worked into resolutions. Grief—the deep understanding of the depth and nuance of love through its absence—is never worked into January plans.

I look to the January-me from 12 months ago, and I take a deep breath. For as much as was lost, was also gained. For as much as I lacked, I was given. For as much as I was anxious, I had peace. Life’s balance will always come out.

December 31st-me sees clearly that I make it. I survive. I handle what comes along my path. I discern. I can laugh and give myself a hard time about things I would have done differently, ridiculous decisions I made, and things I promise to pay more attention to in the future (ha!), but the me looking back at past-me—is lighthearted with it all. There is an understanding. There is a grace. In fact, it is a wellspring of grace for past-me.

Do you know what to do with that grace for yourself? You look back at past-you and say, “You know, I did the best I could—at the time, with the resources I had, with what was going on, with who I was then.” Doing this “work” at intervals in your life is like adding tree growth rings to your sense of self-love and self-acceptance. If you do that often enough, you nurture your ability to self-trust and then trust powerfully in all aspects of your life.

And to be wildly brave is to trust.

When I say “I don’t know what this year holds, but I’m excited to see what comes along my path for me to choose” out in public, I usually get, “You know, you can decide what this year holds.”

Me: “Sure, sure, sure.”

The next most popular response is: “Don’t just count on things coming along your path! You need to go get them.”

Me: “Sure, sure, sure.”

There’s a yang/masculine energy in that interchange, right? Our societal set-point is in goals and achievements—in reaching out and twisting the world to match our will. It’s not bad, but it’s not in balance.

A yin/feminine set-point is subtle. It’s flow, not force. It’s journey, not achievement. It’s adaptable, not rigid. It’s open hands, a flexible mind, a confident soul, a spirit tuned to the divine, and a steady heart.

Our bodies must not be in a vibrational state of distraction.

Our brains must be able to discern a shallow calling from the deeper one.

Our souls must be confident without needing to know the outcomes.

Our spirit must know a connection with divinity.

And our hearts must be excited to trust.

Yes, you read that right—excited to trust.

In that state, you can live in the flow of life and stop struggling so much against it. Stop believing you have, or need, so much agency within it. You can simply live and follow the magical urges (my phrase for this). Magical urges are things that bubble up honestly from within you in concert with the divine, playing out on the playground of the universe. What bubbles up in those magical urges is conversation, is orchestration, between you and Source. You, as Source, Source, as you—One, not separated.

Practically (because I am all about the practical!)—if I am driving and I feel an urge to go to a different coffee shop, I will pause and run it through my psychological nonsense checklist. Then, if it passes, I’m going to follow that magical urge. Often, the outcome unfurls itself to me fairly easily—a serendipitous meeting, or perfectly timed sunlight through a beautiful stained glass window pulling me into the feeling of awe. Sometimes, it’s revealed slowly, over time, that reason behind that magical urge. Sometimes, it’s not revealed. But, I have enough trust that the revelation of reason behind the urge is now an almost useless mental exercise. I’m here. I’m doing it. I’m trusting. I trust. I have a heart that is excited to trust.

My wildest magical urge from last year? It came out of a smell in the wind one morning, resulting in a situation that wellsprings joy and growth for me now, but only because I had the wild bravery to follow it. So, no matter what it is, how little or silly, if you are aligned— follow the magical urges and live in the flow of your unique life.

This year, I’m going to be: not putting expectations on this year, excited to see what is presented to me, and trusting that I can discern it.

Being brave is: action + fear.

Being wildly brave is: (action + fear) * trust.

And, do you know what’s really cool?

You can turn and look at your past-self at any time of the year.

~