january new year is a lie

Every year, January 1st arrives with fireworks, declarations, and pressure to begin again.
And every year, my body quietly disagrees.

Winter has barely begun in the Northern Hemisphere. The earth is still cold. The days are short. Darkness lingers. Nothing in creation is rushing to emerge — and yet we are told to declare, decide, and reinvent ourselves overnight.

It has always felt misaligned because January is not a beginning.
It’s the onset of winter.

Winter is the season of rest, repair, and dormancy. Of slowing down, conserving energy, and allowing what has been worked and worked to rest. Creation itself models this wisdom — trees bare their branches, seeds remain hidden underground, animals retreat and hibernate.

Winter is not failure.
Winter is preparation.

The idea of January as “the new year” has always felt more administrative than organic — a construct useful for commerce and control, but poorly aligned with the rhythms of our bodies, spirits, and the soil. Our current calendar, misshaped by imperial systems, is no longer designed primarily for human flourishing regarding the passage of time. Sadly, most calendars now are designed solely for order and productivity.

Hustle culture simply inherited this.

From a spiritual perspective, the true new year begins in spring — after Resurrection, Passover, and Pentecost. God’s cosmic calendar centers on light and life fully returning.

Spring is when the earth actually begins again.
Even the word itself tells its truth — spring denotes forward motion, emergence, and rising.

Life does not begin again in the dark.
Life breaks forth after darkness has done its necessary work.

This is why the “new year, new me” frenzy so often fizzles by February. Transformation does not respond to a date on the calendar. It responds to integration. If nothing has been tended beneath the surface, a declaration alone cannot sustain itself.

Change does not come from hype.
It comes through intention and care.

Winter is the season for healing, listening, and gentle truth telling. It’s the time to rest without apology and nurture expectation quietly — like seeds held safely underground.

Creation does not hurry.
And neither does God.

Resist pressure to make hasty declarations. Resist noise that says rest is delay. Resist the lie that urgency equals faith.

Let winter be.

Rest awhile and allow yourself to be unfinished.

For now.

Because light is coming forth more and more— little by little— each day.

Spring will arrive — and when it does, what has been cared for in secret will rise again with strength.