Start the year gently
not at all what I'd planned to write
There is a draft on my computer that I’ve been fiddling with for days and can’t make it come out quite right. It talks of the new year, of change, of Rilke, and it is just as all-over-the-place as my foggy brained thoughts which I guess is inevitable. Perhaps I will polish it up enough to share at some point, but on this first day of the year I felt suddenly compelled to write something different. The forecast keeps saying all clouds and rain but then the sun comes out just when I most need it. I have a cold that’s been dragging on for ages and that might be why my brain feels so foggy. I have always loved this transitional time between two years— a time when it’s socially acceptable to be extremely reflective, both privately and publicly. I love reading other people’s reflections and revelations as much as I love having my own. So of course I couldn’t wait to write about it and make a video about it, but the sickness and the fogginess and the busyness all fell heavily upon me and I went about reflection differently this year. I let it unravel slowly. Last year on the first of January I packed the day with as many beautiful things as I could to set the tone for the year. I’m not sure how I managed it, but somehow I went for a run, sketched, worked in the garden, sold two paintings, read and wrote, went for a bike ride, made a good meal, and even went rollerblading(!). I had heard somewhere that the way you spend the first day of the year is the way you will spend the rest of it and I guess I took that really seriously. This year I am sitting on the sofa under blankets, flipping slowly through old journals, which feels like stepping back and looking at my own life with different eyes. I find strange little treasures that makes me smile, like this one:
September 5th, 2023
I felt lucky, I felt light.
I felt like a charm in a pocket.
“Don’t forget!” says the flower on my wall,
and the edges of my dreams have melted off
to form new ones.
I might have been the old lady rinsing a pot,
or the bird poking its head into the narrow hole.
But I am me,
going about my own routines and
rolling old memories around
like a mint in my mouth.
“I am me!” screeches the bird from the highest height,
the top of the odd tree that reigns over the yard.
“We are us” hum the snails, patiently crossing the walk,
and all my friends driving to work,
stretching out,
flipping the pillow over out of some irresistible pull towards change.
So I guess the point of this post is just to say, Happy New Year. Whether you spend today on the couch or rollerblading around town, I hope it’s filled with gentle reflection, gratitude, and joy.
A big thank you to anyone who has supported me this year by reading my posts, watching my videos, commenting, reaching out to me with an encouraging word, it has all meant so much <3




Annie this poem is so beautiful. Truly! Thank you so much for sharing your writing this year. I bought a moleskin planner to use for 2026 inspired be you. I can’t wait to use it. Here’s to more days of living reflecting and creating in this beautiful world ✨
Beautiful poem, Annie! Praying blessings over the New Year <3