There are moments in life when nothing is asking us to rush forward, yet nothing is asking us to stay where we are. We find ourselves in between, between chapters, between versions of ourselves, between what has been and what has not yet taken shape. These moments often arrive quietly. Not with declarations or urgency, but with a subtle pause that asks us to listen more closely.

As one year closes and another is marked on the calendar, many of us feel this pause more acutely. Not as a call to reinvent ourselves, but as an invitation to reflect. To notice what the past cycle has shaped, softened, or clarified within us. Not all beginnings arrive with a date. Some arrive with listening, slowing, and a readiness that cannot be rushed.

In this space between cycles, it can be tempting to look ahead too quickly. To ask what we should be doing, fixing, or becoming next. Yet there is value in lingering here a little longer. In allowing what has been lived to settle fully. In giving ourselves permission to acknowledge what no longer fits, not with judgment, but with honesty and care.

This kind of reflection does not require answers. It asks only for presence. For a willingness to notice what feels complete, what feels unresolved, and what has quietly run its course. Some things release easily. Others ask to be acknowledged before they can be set down. Both are part of the same process.

At thresholds like this, we are not meant to arrive anywhere yet. We are meant to listen. To sense what our lives have been teaching us beneath the surface of events. To recognize the ways we have changed, even if we cannot fully name how. This is not a time for force or urgency, but for integration.

If you feel called to reflect during this time, you might begin simply.
What feels complete from the year that has passed?
What feels unfinished, but no longer requires your energy?
What patterns, roles, or expectations have quietly fallen away, even if they once felt necessary?

This season often supports a different kind of work. One that happens beneath the surface. In the Northern Hemisphere, the winter months in nature invite a slowing, a turning inward, and a period of rest and restoration. Growth has not stopped here. It has simply gone inward, gathering strength and clarity before it becomes visible again.

There is no need to rush what comes next. No requirement to name intentions, set resolutions, or define outcomes before you are ready. What is meant to continue will make itself known in time. What is meant to be released will soften its grip when it is acknowledged with care. For now, it is enough to stand at the threshold, attentive and present, allowing this pause to do its quiet work.

Photo by Christina Dahl on Unsplash
© 2026 • Charmaine Cheryle | The Modern Babaylan