Looking Back, Moving Forward: Honouring the New Year With Intention
Eat better. Do more. Be better. Is it any wonder we’re often led to feelings of failure and shame? I propose we ditch resolutions altogether and instead return to the idea of intentions.
By Featured Writer, Belinda Bennetts
At the start of a new year, many of us feel called to pause and turn inwards. If we look to the past, we can see this practice has a long tradition, and the instinct to reflect is not new.
Let us, for a moment, step back in time. Far, far back to the days of ancient Rome.
It is the start of January, and dawn begins its slow ascent. Soft winter light edges upwards, spilling over the land and signalling life to wake. In homes and on the rugged steps of temples, simple offerings are prepared. Milk and honey are poured into gourds and, with devout respect, are symbolically handed to the God of transitions and beginnings, Janus.
Depicted as having two faces, Janus looked both backward and forward. He stood at the hinge of time itself, and in this narrow, liminal space between endings and beginnings, possibility was held, intentions were set, and the future was gently invited into being (Beard, 2015). In warm homes and on the word stone steps of temples, these offerings marked the turning of the year.
When I read about Janus, I felt there was something quite profound about the concept of honouring the past and setting intentions for the future. It also signified a direct contrast to the traditional paradigm of New Year's resolutions. I don’t know about you, but for me, resolutions have always felt rigid. I’ve done them in the past, but they always seemed to be a sure-fire way of setting oneself up for failure. Not to mention, they affirm cultural narratives that equate worth with productivity, self-control, and fixing one’s flaws.
Eat better. Do more. Be better.
Is it any wonder they often lead to feelings of failure and shame?
I propose we ditch them altogether and instead return to the idea of intentions.
Even the word sounds softer, doesn’t it? Resolutions are final, but intentions suggest a gentle direction of energy towards that which we want to focus on. An intention asks, “How do I want to live my life this year? What is important to me?”, rather than, “this is what I MUST achieve”.
This subtle shift reduces pressure and allows for movement and humanity, where intentions can evolve as circumstances change, without being abandoned or judged as failures. Additionally, they give us the opportunity to consider our relationships by asking how we want to show up with others, in our families, workplaces, and communities. What values do we want to contribute as we navigate this new cycle of time?
Keeping all this in mind, I now offer a selection of journaling prompts to help you reflect on the old and prepare for the new. There is no right or wrong way to answer these prompts; they are simply invitations for reflection.
Releasing the old
Looking back on 2025, what moments, experiences, or qualities are you grateful for? What did this year give you?
What challenges did you face, emotionally, relationally, or practically, and how did you respond? What did you learn from these experiences?
What do you need to leave in the past, and what needs to be carried into the new? This might include habits, expectations, roles, or beliefs about yourself.
Preparing for the new
What intentions do you have for the new year? Your hopes and dreams.
When you imagine yourself a year from now, what qualities do you hope to have cultivated? For example, steadiness, courage, softness, and clarity.
What intentions do you have for how you relate to others this year? This might include boundaries, presence, honesty, or compassion.
What is one collective or community intention you want to hold? This could relate to family, work, community life, or wider social concerns.
You may also wish to mark the transition by writing a letter to the year ahead.
A letter to 2026
Write a letter addressed to 2026 as if it were a living presence waiting to meet you. You might include what you hope for, what you are curious about, and what you are willing to learn. Rather than making promises, consider naming how you want to orient yourself to the year, especially during moments of uncertainty or difficulty.
The new year does not demand reinvention. It invites orientation. Like Janus at the doorway, we are allowed to look back with honesty and forward with intention, holding both without urgency. In doing so, the year ahead becomes less about pressure and more about presence, allowing each moment to be fully attended to.
References
Beard, M. (2015). SPQR: A History of Ancient Rome. London: Profile Books.