I've been doing New Year's rituals for years. I like the marking of time and the reflection offered by doing rituals during the transition to a new year. There's a natural urge for deliberate letting go of things and intentional calling in of desires and clarity. For me, rituals are a connection to myself and others, and acts as a container for making sense of life. I believe ritual allows us to transcend the ordinary and mundane to a sacred or special experience.

I don't focus on goals or resolutions; the goals will come later, naturally in the process. The new year ritual is a time to get heart and soul connected, to get into the space of imagination and create what I want. Starting with the heart assures that we're aligned with our true self and higher being. There's nothing wrong with goals, but when we make that our starting place, it's often preceded by a "should," fueled by fear, shame or guilt (which is why so many are short-lived).

So, this year like most, I'll pack in quite a few rituals. I'll write lists that get kept and others that get burned. Do a faery card reading and an ancestral ritual using ash and water offerings. And because I've been doing a much longer range reflection lately, I'll be adding a new ritual this year: writing a letter to my twenty-something self who had dreams and ideals for a future that didn't transpire. This is a letter I'll write and then burn to set free. It's not something that needs re-read or analyzed. It will allow me to take the time to grieve for what never was, in order to fully open the door for all that is and will be. In contrast, my 21-year-old niece told me she'll be writing a letter to her future self that she says she'll keep and read at an appointed time later. That's the power of ritual--allowing it to be a personal and unique expression to sift through our own story and its meaning, to ascertain just what it is we are seeking in the enactment, and ultimately in the next story we desire to live.