Hi Reader,

I sit here staring out of the window, watching the snow pile up outside. I'm in New York, visiting my family for the holidays, and luxuriating in the quiet of the snowfall. Tree branches are covered, with some plants tucking their leaves tightly within to avoid the cold. Birds continue to flit about by the bird feeder my mom has set up outside the living room window. I feel happy knowing they aren't suffering for lack of food on these cold winter days.

Cardinals, Blue Jays, Chickadees, Finches, red-headed Woodpeckers, and so many more. The buffet remains open, day and night, for them to fill up and fuel up. Just a few meters away glide the bald eagles – caught in the winds that continuously flow above the Hudson River.

The world feels peaceful, almost quiet. Like there's nowhere to be and nothing to do.

Except, of course, there is always somewhere to be and something to do. This visit home, like so many others, is full. Family, friends, holiday gatherings and joyful dinners at home together. There's no real rest, even if the pace of life and the activities themselves have changed.

I feel tired from days filled with more activity than I'm used to, but also happy to be home – mixed with the people I love and care about most – enjoying the change of routine. I know that on the other side of so much upheaval and change in habits there is always a period of great creativity. All of the pent up energy usually spent writing or dreaming is given over to the present moment, and when I return home I am eager to dive in to my world again – with renewed energy and new ideas that were previously buried under the surface of routine and habit.

My mind isn't fully online in these moments, not fully off either – there's a strange sort of pause here in the middle.

There are things I know I could do, but mostly I am releasing my desire to produce, create, drive forward. I'm giving myself space to just be here – now. Awaiting the moment where my energy comes back online and guides me towards what's next – not the other way around.

This is the perfect moment for deep rest and reflection. For allowing myself to see all the growth – and sometimes hardship – that has come this last year and to think about how I wish for 2025 to be different. For all of the dreams I am still building and for the ways I wish to operate in the world differently.

This moment of pause is the only way to move forward with clarity and resolve. Without fighting the slowdown, I am allowing my context to gently shift into the winter wonderland I see out my window, sitting in the stillness that can only come from being present without fighting what is. It's not always easy to do, but in moments like these it feels simple nonetheless.

I've been sitting with these questions myself – which is why I recorded a podcast episode about year-end reflection this week, and created a guide to support you in this same work of looking back and dreaming forward. Both are there if you need companions in your own pause.

Wishing you a beautiful and quiet slowdown as we move toward 2025. I wish for you to have the same period of reflection and dreaming for what's to come – and hope that you stay healthy and safe for all that is ahead.

With love, always,

Amanda