Between intention and becoming

An invitation to Pause · Reflect · Reset

My feeds are overlowing right now with posts announcing new goals, sparkly resolutions and bold ideas for how 2026 will be better (and how the post authors will be better too). Then there are a bunch of ‘counter’ posts with sometimes snarky, sometimes gentle, always critical commentary on the pitfalls and naivety of new year’s resolutions.

Even though I usually don’t mark the new year in any big way, I don’t mind coming across these posts. There’s a beautiful energy they bring, and something hopeful about this moment. With a little rest in our bodies and a bit of holiday cheer remaining, people are more present, more patient, even kinder to each other. More open to possibility. Work feels lighter, conversations warmer. It’s as if we have quietly shed our end-of-2025 heaviness. This shedding makes room for clarity, for us to consider once again what we plan to do with our one wild and precious life (to paraphrase Mary Oliver from her poem “The Summer Day”).

But, I’m already hearing versions of:

“We have to connect before things get busy”
“Next week is good but February is starting to look a but full.”
”I don’t know where December went, now we’re almost at the end of January.”
”Yeah I started so well, best of intentions, but…”

As if people already know this moment, this openness to possibility won’t last forever. It concerns me that people seemed resigned to this inevitably, and that too many of us have accepted the cycle of making and breaking resolutions as… fine.

I tend not to tie goal-setting to January. I don’t experience the year as beginning neatly on 1 January. Moments like Ramadaan or Muharram feel more natural for reflection and reorientation. But, 2025/26 offered me an unexpected gift.

A new year, a new journal

After eight years of journaling for the first time ever, my journal ended in December - yes, I’m pretty fanatic about using a journal right to the very last page. The last page may happen mid-year, or even mid-month (I’ve learned not to let it happen mid-week. My mind can’t take it). So, buying a new journal is a pretty urgent errand, one I wouldn’t be able to leave for after the Christmas retail period.

Fast forward to me frantically rushing to find a dot-matrix journal on 23 December, which hardly any retailers stock, and the ensuing mayhem. The memory is as clear as if it was yesterday. I never go to malls, least of all just before Christmas Day. But, let’s set all that manic energy aside. And focus on what this journal-buying quest led to.

Starting a new journal is an important ritual for me. I use Bullet Journaling, which blends mindfulness and productivity, and setting up a new journal means revisiting collections and deciding what I carry forward, what I release, what I want to notice more intentionally. Starting a new journal in January meant that I unexpectedly found myself in the “reflection-visioning zone” at a time of year when other people were right in the zone with me.

Anchoring in remembrance

At the beginning of my last few journals, I’ve also had the habit of deliberately choosing a word that will be the first word I write, as an anchor for my still-to-emerge reflections. For this journal, the word that came to me was remembrance. And I experienced a bunch of non-coincidences linked to the word, some of which were sparked right here on Substack (see this post and this one). I began asking myself questions like:

What ways of being make remembrance more natural?
What helps sustain remembrance when life gets noisy?

Pause · Reflect · Reset

That curiosity led me to an idea I’ve started calling Pause · Reflect · Reset, a practice that I’m hoping will enable more awareness of intention, and honest reflection on how to align intention with becoming.

There is so much richness to explore between intention and becoming - because things come up. Some present as obstacles, others are paths that branch from the original one you’re already walking. Fear, distraction, doubt and inconstant habits have often derailed me (using kinder phrasing, they led to detours into the path that was actually meant to be).

But there are antidotes.

The essential antidote is that we can control our thoughts. We can marshall the fears and distractions that lead to obstacles on our path. If we can shape our inner state, we hold everything we need to shape our experience.

An invitation

You’ll have guessed by now that one of the ways I tend to my inner state is through ritual and routine, journaling, finding moments for pause and rest, noticing to inspire gratitude, and listening closely to myself. Another way is through connection and being part of other’s journeys to explore their inner landscapes. I experience such joy when my work enables me to facilitate spaces and community, and witnessing people joining the dots with each other.

As I continue figuring out what more I want to do with my one wild and precious life, again and again, I’m drawn to coaching. This, and other related work, brings me such joy. I love being able to support and champion people navigating the ever-shifting world of work. The work I’m hoping I’ll find (or will find me) isn’t about answers or fixing, but rather the opportunity to facilitate thoughtful, spacious moments. What’s better than finding those precious moments to pause together, in order to listen and better understand ourselves and others.

In the past, I’ve loved using Appreciative Inquiry, an oldie but a goodie. It can combine storytelling, creativity and imaginative ideation, reflective pauses, meditative stillness, experiments - and most of all, it is flexible allowing for adaptation to whatever is coming up. It helps us realise that we already hold so much power and potential, because it is asset-based rather than deficit-focused. I’ve also found that it helps people find language for what they’re yearning for, but haven’t yet named.

So, if any of this resonates, perhaps this is a good moment to join me for a Pause · Reflect · Reset session.

Over the next month or so, I’m offering a limited number of Pause · Reflect · Reset workshops for individuals or teams, at a nominal fee. These are 60–120 minute sessions that move through define, discover, dream, design, and destiny. Not to set goals or map out a plan for 2026, but to notice what’s shifting, what’s in the way, and what could emerge next. Whether there is already something you have in mind that you feel called towards, or you’re sensing a change but haven’t yet pinpointed its meaning, or you would like a sounding board to check in with yourself, I’d love to be in conversation with you.

Fill in this short questionnaire and I’ll be in touch.