Seeds of hope

Happy New Year, friends. Welcome to 2025. There is something pleasing about that number.

If you’ve been around here a while, you’ll know I don’t love New Year’s resolutions. I don’t think it’s a good idea to start a new cycle in middle of the coldest, darkest part of the year (at least it is in the northern hemisphere). For me, the year starts in spring, with new growth and flower blossoms. Until then it’s time to ponder and plan and rest as much as we can.

All that said, it’s hard not to get swept up in the clean-slate newness of it all—in picking significant words and setting goals (not resolutions, goals), and finding themes and resonance. I like that turning the calendar inspires us to be more thoughtful and intentional than our busy lives usually allow us to be.

I stumbled on the theme I want to keep in mind for my life and my work back in December, in a conversation with a friend. This friend has a sister who is a visual artist, doing interesting work with refuse material—garbage, if you will. I was so delighted to hear of this creative repurposing, it made me so happy, I realized how important this is right now.

We need more stories and examples that show us how people are creatively re-envisioning ways of living, ways of working, ways of being in community. There’s a lot of doom and gloom right now and I don’t want to sink into that darkness. I want to use my energy, my life, in ways that feel positive and proactive. More than anything, I want to plant seeds of hope.

That might be a slightly trite phrase—seeds of hope—but it can be interpreted in many different ways. Actual seeds that are buried in soil and tended—for food to nourish friends and family, for flowers that will bloom and grow. It could also be metaphorical seeds—kind words or gestures that cheer a person up when they are feeling down. It could be seeds in the way of ideas that take hold in the imagination and might lead to a flourishing and harvest far away and entirely unseen by the person who inspired them.

I’ve been thinking of this every day, every time I glance over at the narcissus bulbs I placed in water a week ago. I know most people force these bulbs at Christmastime, but for me it’s always felt more needed in January and February.

Every day, as I watch the roots descend a little deeper into the water, as the green sprout stretches a little higher, I am reminded that even in this quiet and dark time of year there is growth. That spring is coming, but plans for harvest are made now. Every day is an opportunity to plant something good.

Perhaps you would like to join me in planning and planting something good for 2025. It could be something physically real, or something metaphorical, or to help someone else or your community.

This space is about cultivating the good stuff, after all. How lucky we are to have a whole new year to do that in.

Wishing you the very best for 2025. Here’s to planning and planting good stuff. Thank you so much for sharing some of your year with me. If you have new ideas, plans, words, or intentions that you’d like to share, I’d love to hear them.

All best,

—Tara

Something else to enjoy: my books