The Word I’m Carrying Into This Year

I’ve never been someone who resonated with New Year’s resolutions. They tend to pull me too far ahead and ask me to decide who I’m supposed to be before I’ve even had a chance to arrive in the year itself. What has worked for me, year after year, is choosing a word for the year. Not as something to achieve or measure, but as a way of orienting myself when things feel busy, noisy or slightly off. A word gives me something steady to return to, especially when I notice myself being pulled in too many directions at once.

Using a word feels more honest to how life actually unfolds. It doesn’t require a plan or a timeline. It doesn’t demand momentum right away. It gives me a way to stay connected to how I want to move through my days, my work and my decisions without turning January into a pressure cooker. Over the past few years, I’ve also been paying a lot more attention to seasonal rhythms, both personally and in my work. January is still winter. The energy is quieter. There’s an inward pull that doesn’t match the push to create goals or switch into a get-it-done mode. Choosing a word honours that. It gives direction without forcing action before it’s time.

I like using a word because it meets me where I am. It doesn’t need to be checked off or revisited on a schedule. It simply lives in the background and shows up when it’s needed. Sometimes it’s there when I’m making a decision. Other times it’s there when I notice I feel unsettled and can’t quite name why. The word doesn’t tell me what to do, but it helps me understand how I want to be with my life and my work in that season.

Last Year’s Word and What It Taught Me

Last year, my word was nourish and it wasn’t what I expected. When I chose it, I assumed it would feel softer. I thought it would be about adding more of what felt supportive or comforting. What I didn’t anticipate was how clarifying that word would become. Nourish asked me to pay attention to what I was allowing into my life, not just physically, but emotionally, mentally and energetically. It brought up questions around what I was consuming, what I was tolerating and what I was continuing simply because it felt familiar.

There were plenty of moments where nourish didn’t feel cosy at all. It showed up through boundaries I hadn’t planned on setting and pauses I didn’t think I had room for. It asked me to notice when something I was engaging with wasn’t actually sustaining me, even if it once had. Nourish ended up being less about care in the way we often talk about it and more about self-respect. Looking back, I can see how much clarity it brought, even though living it didn’t always feel comfortable in the moment.

As the year came to a close, I could feel that nourish had done its work. Not because the lesson was finished, but because my relationship with myself had shifted. I wasn’t in the same place of depletion, but I did notice how easily I could still drift. How quickly my attention could pull outward. How fast my days could fill up without me really being present for them. That awareness, paired with this quieter winter energy, is what led me to this year’s word.

This year, my word is anchored.

Anchored isn’t about slowing down or holding myself back. It’s about staying with myself while life continues to move. It’s the feeling of being rooted in who I am as I create, teach and show up in my work. Anchored reminds me that I don’t need to push harder or pull away to feel steady. I just need to come back to myself.

Anchored fits the season I’m in. Winter isn’t asking for big leaps or fast growth. It asks for steadiness, patience, and trust. In my life, being anchored looks like moving at a pace that feels sustainable and letting my energy lead instead of my to-do list. In my work, it looks like creating from lived experience rather than urgency, and allowing things to build in a way that feels solid and true. It’s less about doing more, and more about staying connected to what matters.

How I choose my word for the year

When it’s time to choose my word for the year, I sit in my spot, ground my energy, light a candle and then ask the question. What word will guide me this year? I ask it and listen.

Some years the word comes through quickly. Other years it takes longer. There are years where I open my records and years where I use a guided meditation when I can feel myself starting to overthink everything. Over time, I’ve learned that forcing clarity never works for me. The word shows up when it’s meant to.

This year, the word had already started appearing toward the end of last year, but I didn’t really register it at the time. It kept coming up when I was sitting at my computer, thinking about what I wanted to write or what I wanted to put out into the world. Because it’s a word I already use a lot and because it’s part of my framework, it blended into the background. It felt familiar, almost easy to dismiss.

It landed differently a little later. I was driving around running errands, one of those stretches of time where I’m alone and talking things through with my team (I talk to my spirit team a lot when I’m in my car). The word came through clearly. Anchored. Direct. Unmissable. My mind immediately tried to jump in and question it, because that’s what it does. But my body responded first. My shoulders dropped. My chest softened. That physical response mattered more than the questions.

That was the moment I knew. Anchored wasn’t something I needed to analyse or justify. It was already doing what a word for the year is meant to do. And that’s the word I’m carrying with me into this year and letting it guide how I move through it.

I don’t use my word in a rigid way or turn it into something I have to manage. I pay attention to how I’m moving through my life and notice when I’ve drifted from what the word is inviting in. Sometimes it’s a decision. Sometimes it’s a pause. Sometimes it’s simply realising I’m off-centre and choosing to come back. That’s always enough to shift how things feel.

If you choose a word for the year or if you’ve been curious about trying it, I think the most important thing to remember is that it doesn’t need to match anyone else’s expectations of what January should look like. Your word can honour the season you’re in. It can support you quietly. And it can teach you in ways you don’t fully understand at the beginning. In my experience, that’s usually how you know you’ve chosen the right one.

Thanks for reading. If you have your word for the year I’d love to know what it is.

Sam

PS: If you’re choosing a word this year and want a little support I made a short guide and recorded a visualization you can use. You can find it here.

If you liked this post, pin it to Pinterest!