I'm officially a week into Year 24 and so far it looks like armfuls of blooms and hair that's easier to take care of because it's shorter now. I wanted to feel more wild and free, and chopping off my hair felt like something I could do that day. So I did.
Magic seems to dance around a new year — I woke up with a restless wiggle whispering to my bones that a million new trails were set in front of me. I crave to keep that anticipation so very close and near to each minute of my days. After spending a few days walking the forest of Year 24, I figured out the wisdom and intentions I want to tuck into my backpack. You can walk with me, if you'd like to.
1 // Plant the windowsill garden.
I have a hundred dried flowers hanging upside down on my living room wall. I see fresh blooms at the market and imagine how they'd look all dried up and fragile. But I want to start cultivating. Therefore I am planting a windowsill garden — it might not work. Maybe I'll just end up with pots full of dirt. But earthworms like soil, and so do I.
2 // Let bravery talk.
I used to live as a mouse, quiet and afraid. I'm working to be wild and free now, to live in joy and intention while seeking beauty and courage. Bravery is my mission.
3 // Minimize, minimize, minimize.
In the words of Emily Gilmore, "I'm decluttering my life. If it brings you joy, you keep it. If it doesn't, out it goes." Does this heavy brass sea lion bring me joy? You betcha — he gets to stay. But anything that doesn't spark nostalgia, purpose or joy, I want it outta here.
4 // Break up with worry.
I've started to write lists of anything and everything that makes me feel anxious or worried. Sometimes there's validity and somedays it's okay, but mostly I get in my own head and they start to sneakily emerge and wiggle their way to cloud my eyes. I'm going to command the thoughts with strength and ferocity to go away and be trampled underneath my bare feet (even if it feels thorny).
5 // Know when it's time to quit.
I'm going to gain being okay with slamming the old oak door on stuff that's no longer serving me well, and also on things that I can no longer serve well. Do the messy, heavy, dirty work to figure out what's important and what can take the back burner for now. Tear out the weeds.
6 // Say yes, too.
It's all about boundaries, babe. It's about taking chances on people, and things that could turn into passion projects or heart works. Say yes to drinking water, wearing soft clothes, coffee dates, love letters and phone calls, and exploring.
7 // Remember that God doesn't hide.
It's not in His nature. Maybe he'll be quiet for a season or two, but that's when it's on me to open the door and listen harder.
8 // Blaze the trails.
Drop the seeds behind me as I go, beg the rain and light for growth so that bravery blooms will break the soil and scamper to reach the sky. Forage bouquets, fellow trailblazers, then drop your own seeds.
9 // Hydrate.
With coffee. But also with water because my body deserves to be nourished by enough water. And coffee, of course.
10 // Yell at the trees.
Like, actually shout at them. I want to march around my neighborhood and holler, "It's beautiful to be alive! Breathe this air! Look at you, trees! You are a work of art and you're rooted here for a reason!" People might think it's weird at first but I think they'll join in when they see how freeing it is to compliment the trees.
11 // Let God amplify.
Pray the big prayers and whisper the smaller ones. Ask that He moves in and around everything.
12 // Buy the plane ticket.
Travel. Go where I feel called to go. And then put more quarters in my adventure jar so that I can buy the next plane ticket.
13 // Listen to the Soul Whispers and follow the God Winks.
Those are the words my sweet friend Sophie wrote me in a letter. I think when you begin noticing these, I'll start to see just how subtly and strongly God starts weaving His presence and holy touch on all aspects of the every day. Then I think life begins changing and moving and dancing.
14 // Dig out the rot.
Come to terms with fear of isolation and fear of growing close to people, and maaaaaybe let myself fall in love. I've got to start digging because burying stuff doesn't make it go away, it just makes weeds grow. And if you let dreams and anticipation fall asleep in muddy water, they'll just drown next to your feet. Move forward with a shovel, babe.
15 // Journal.
Write it all down. Every web of thought that is woven into my day — the grocery lists, the funny human interactions, the prayers, the God Winks. Come back to read it in fifty years. I want to be amused and rattle with tears and not wrestle to remember what I was like when I was 24.
16 // Sisters and soul sisters are best friends.
And they should be. Find them and root each other on because we shouldn't have to walk through the forest by ourselves.
17 // Set a budget and knock out loans.
Save that money and be content in living small now — so adventures can come later.
18 // Don't grow cold when the seasons do.
I tend to let the light go from my eyes when the sun sets sooner. I let the cold wiggle its way into my bones and it doesn't leave until springtime. I want to battle with a lion's heart, to say "HEY WINTER, you don't get to steal my joy. Not this year." I don't want to sleepwalk while I'm awake.
19 // Go outside.
Forage some blooms and take them home. Return to the forest to remember why you started the thing in the first place. Breathe a little easier.
20 // Focus on faith.
Because a faith-filled life is a full life and beauty is woven through all the corners. I want to let God stir my heart so I wake up and fall asleep to joy in Him, instead of weariness.
21 // Do the stuff I keep saying I'll do.
Write the book. Make stickers of my whale who has mushrooms growing on his back. Quit letting Fear get in the way because he's not my pal. Sorry Fear, I have stuff for the world.
22 // Remember that trying to do too much makes things slip through the cracks.
Set intentional, attainable goals and priorities. I don't have to juggle everything at once. And that's okay.
23 // Learn to cook.
Like, baby steps. First goal — don't burn down the apartment. Just learn how to make a casserole and go from there.
24 // Give myself the titles and say hello to them.
Florist. Writer. Maker. Seeker of Beauty. Everyday Explorer. Kate.