This was January...

...a new word, and a new way of communicating with the world

I’ve been dithering about starting a substack for so long, and now feels like the time. It’s a new year, my (abandoned) blog domain is about to expire, and I want to find a creative outlet. So here I am. Thank you for signing up and allowing space for me in your inbox! 😊

The start of a new year felt like the right time to make the change. January gets a bad rep, but I like it better than December. December is chaos and noise and bright lights, but January is quiet, dark, reflective. January is what winter should be. A chance to shift inward, take stock, gather our energy and resources for the year ahead.

I don’t set New Year’s resolutions; instead I’m firmly on the ‘Word of the Year’ bandwagon. On New Years Day I choose a pebble from the beach, write my word for the year on it, and keep it on my altar. I leave the pebble with last year’s word on the beach in its place, giving thanks for the lessons it taught me, and for its integration into my life. It’s a small, beautiful ritual, made even more special these last three years because my friend and I do it together. As much as I’m a solitary soul, sharing a ritual with someone who means a lot to me, makes it that bit more magical.

This year’s word is ‘Outdoors’ simply because I spent far too much of 2023 indoors. I want long walks; sea swims; connections with the seasons and the tides; acknowledgements of the sabbats; awareness of the moon cycles and the weather; noticing nature and identifying what I see; geocaching; morning coffee at the beach or in the back garden; land healing rituals and ceremonies; drumming sessions in ancient places; a refreshed garden that meets my needs; cetacean spotting; litter picking; permaculture; camping; sketching, reading and writing outdoors; feeling fresh air on my face every day.

Our ritual was performed on 6th January instead of the 1st this year, due to weather and logistical issues, but it was powerful all the same. The sky was overcast, the sea metal grey and agitated, both of us elated and hungry after completing the Thurso Parkrun beforehand. Fat drops of rain dotted the pebbles as we cast our gaze over them. There are millions to choose from, so it’s best not to overthink it. Normally I would grab something small, smooth and round, but this year I was drawn to a rougher, angular stone, almost heart-shaped. I said farewell to ‘Trust’, which had served me well during 2023, the legacy of which will remain in my life for a long time to come.

January has been a challenging month when it comes to being outdoors. Two storms, heavy snowfall, and long days spent in the office, all of which could have led me to falter and lose sight of what I want to achieve. But I’ve stayed mindful and focused, engaging in small daily moments that ensure ‘outdoors’ remains a key theme in 2024.

I follow 72 Seasons UK on Instagram, using their 5-day micro-seasons to connect with the subtle changes in nature. Micro-seasons so far have included ‘bare branches are stark,’ ‘the robin calls’ and ‘frost crackles underfoot.’ I make a note in my bullet journal every day of something I’ve observed, whether that’s two hawks on fenceposts, a glorious sunset, the first snowdrops tips, or identifying the wind direction by watching creamy lumps of seafoam blowing across the beach.  I’ve always paid fairly good attention to the world around me anyway – being a writer means that paying attention is second nature – but it feels refreshing to make a point of really noticing something every day and engaging just that tiny bit deeper with life.

I hope you’ve all had a wonderful start to 2024, please let me know if you’ve chosen a word for the year as well, and what that word is.

See you next month

Andrea xxx