Nothing in your life changes until you change January 2 is the real New Year. The confetti is gone. The slogans have expired. This is where intention meets reality. No grand declarations required. Just small, honest steps. Care where it matters. Rest when you need to. Speak when it counts.
Resolutions assume you’re broken. Curiosity assumes you’re alive. Instead of asking, “What should I fix?” try: What do I want more of? What feels true? What drains me unnecessarily? Curiosity leaves room for complexity. For rest. For change that lasts. You are not starting from scratch. You are
Tonight, some people will celebrate loudly. Others will turn off the lights early and call it wisdom. Both are valid. This is a toast to the survivors — the ones who showed up imperfectly, who stayed human in a year that demanded performance, certainty, and speed. You don’t need a
By Heather Cox Richardson The hallmark of the first year of President Donald J. Trump’s second term has been the attempt of the president and his cronies to dismantle the constitutional system set up by the framers of that document when they established the United States of America. It’
Let’s talk about the things that didn’t happen. The plans that stayed plans. The goals that didn’t materialize. The version of you that never quite showed up. This is not a confession. This is realism. Not everything unfinished is a failure. Some things were too heavy. Some
If you measure this year by accomplishments alone, you’ll miss the truth. What mattered probably wasn’t the big thing you posted about. It was quieter. Smaller. More human. A conversation that shifted something. A moment you chose kindness when it would’ve been easier not to. A boundary
This week exists in a strange pocket of time where no one knows what day it is and nothing feels urgent — which is deeply suspicious in a culture addicted to urgency. You are no longer in last year, but not yet in the next one. This is the hallway. The
There are public resolutions, and then there are the quiet ones — the ones you don’t announce because you’re not looking for applause, just peace. This is a list of things many of us are gently, lovingly done with: • Explaining ourselves to people committed to misunderstanding • Confusing productivity with
Good morning, and welcome to December 26—the most honest day of the year. This is the day when the decorations are still up, the food is still out, and everyone collectively agrees to stop pretending they have their life together. It’s the holiday after the holiday, which means
Dear Friends, Christmas arrives whether we are ready for it or not. For some, this season glows—wrapped in laughter, familiar traditions, and tables filled with food and people we love. For others, it arrives quietly, or heavily, carrying reminders of loss, change, distance, or simply exhaustion. And for many,
(Or at least French-adjacent) I’ve come to a realization that may shock no one who has ever eaten at my table or listened to me complain about food quality in America. I think I’m French. Not passport French. More… spiritually French. Emotionally French. Judgy-about-butter French. You know all
Some days don’t need commentary, lessons, or perspective. They need one honest sentence: Take care of yourself. Not in the bubble-bath, inspirational-poster sense. In the practical, adult, this-is-a-lot sense. We’re living in a moment where everyone seems to be drafted into constant reaction. There’s always something new