❄️ The First Day of Winter: Endings, Beginnings, and Looking Ahead

Today marks the first day of winter, a season that has always felt like a threshold to me. Winter is often framed as an ending — the close of the year, the quieting of the world, the pause before things begin again. But I’ve been thinking a lot about how winter is also a beginning.

It’s the start of something slower. Softer. More intentional.

As the days grow shorter and the world turns inward, I’m finding myself doing the same — reflecting on everything that 2025 held while gently planning for what I want 2026 to become.

🍂 Looking Back at 2025

This year has been full of change. Some of it chosen, some of it unexpected. There were moments of growth that stretched me, creative risks that asked for courage, and periods of uncertainty that taught me how resilient I really am.

I learned to adapt. To let go of things that no longer fit. To trust that even when the path wasn’t clear, I was still moving forward. Writing evolved. My creative work shifted. Community deepened. And through it all, I kept coming back to the same truth: change is hard, but it makes room for becoming.

There were wins I’m proud of. There were lessons I didn’t expect. And there were moments where simply showing up was enough.

🌲 Turning Toward 2026

Winter feels like the perfect time to dream without pressure. I’m starting to map out 2026 slowly — not with rigid goals, but with intention. What do I want to protect? What do I want to nurture? What deserves more space?

I’m thinking about sustainability, about creativity that feels joyful rather than rushed, about building community in ways that feel meaningful. I’m thinking about the stories I want to tell, the art I want to make, and the life I want to live alongside all of it.

There’s no rush to have it all figured out. Winter reminds me that growth happens quietly, beneath the surface, long before it’s visible.

🕯️ Holding Both

The first day of winter invites us to hold two truths at once:
That something is ending.
And something else is beginning.

We’re allowed to grieve what didn’t work. We’re allowed to celebrate how far we’ve come. And we’re allowed to imagine what’s next with hope — even if it’s still a little fuzzy around the edges.

Today, I’m honoring both the year behind me and the one ahead. I’m letting winter be a season of reflection, rest, and gentle preparation. A season of tending the roots.

However you’re entering winter — tired, hopeful, reflective, or unsure — I hope you give yourself permission to arrive exactly as you are.

Here’s to endings that make space for beginnings.
Here’s to winter. ❄️✨

With warmth,
Arden 🕯️💛