New beginnings don't always have balloons and confetti.
Imagine if every new beginning kicked off with a fanfare.
Like at the start of a 10-kilometer race with loudspeakers,
A countdown and the bang of a race pistol.
Or like a 21st birthday party with balloons and confetti and the chink of champagne glasses as we step into the world as an official adult.
It would make noticing change so much easier.
While some new beginnings in life do come with the obligatory,
Sometimes forced,
Celebrations to mark the occasion.
Think weddings,
Baby showers,
Launch parties or the aforementioned race starts and milestone birthdays.
It's been my experience that most new meaningful beginnings happen rather more subtly,
Sometimes imperceptibly.
It's possible that if you're not paying attention,
You'll have started something new without realizing it.
And later on,
You'll wonder how you got where you are and when exactly you started down this path.
Whether that path is a healthy one,
Like more exercise and nutritious meals,
Creative pursuits and self-care practices,
Or not so healthy ones,
Like one too many wines on an evening,
Or being sucked into the algorithmically induced scroll coma,
Or bad communication habits.
Invariably,
The path of healthy choices or habits takes more effort.
It's more uncomfortable to make those changes,
So we have to hype ourselves up to initiate those healthy new beginnings.
Usually,
We can point to a date on a calendar to signify and measure when we chose to exchange our time for this healthier but more effortful activity.
On the other hand,
If the new beginning hasn't any balloons and confetti that signal its start,
It's easy to fall into the things that are,
Well,
Easy.
We mindlessly exchange our precious time for things or experiences we didn't consciously choose and that are usually not very good for us.
It seems then that the activities that are less healthy are usually the ones that don't have a start date,
They just happen.
And without our noticing,
They become the things we exchange our precious time and energy for.
How insidious.
Being aware of the limited time we have available,
Both in a given day and in life in general,
Although sometimes morbid,
Can make it easier to reflect on what we're exchanging our time for and whether that exchange is adding to the richness of our lives or detracting from it.
I remember when I first started practicing yoga,
It would have been early 2001.
I know this because I graduated from university in 2000 and then moved to the UK.
I had a book of yoga which I decided I would commit to,
And I began my practice in the lounge of our shared flat above a shop in Fishponds,
Bristol.
I didn't have a yoga mat so I had to get up close and personal with a plasticky blue and black carpet in the walkway between the small dining room and the lounge.
Spoiler,
My foray into yoga was an extremely short one.
I have dipped in and out of the practice a number of times over the 20 years since,
But not with any great sense of commitment.
It was only when I signed up to a yoga teacher training course last year that I developed the consistency of my yoga path,
And now it feels like this is what I was always meant to be doing.
I'm immersed,
I'm committed,
My life is well and truly coloured by my practice of yoga.
There's a specific date that I can point to and say,
That's when it began.
I had a similar but not quite the same experience with my illustration practice.
I remember loving to draw as a kid.
There's a specific picture of Minnie Mouse that I remember drawing and showing my parents with pride.
I never pursued art,
I never took art in high school,
But I always loved to draw and my dad is an amazing artist.
In 2023,
After moving to the USA the year prior,
We had just about settled into our new apartment and our new life.
I found myself without logistics or life admin to fill my time,
And as my US visa prohibits me from working,
I found myself with idle hands.
I got my iPad and Apple Pencil out and began dabbling.
That same year,
I wrote and illustrated a children's book.
Somewhere in the summer of 2023 is the region of time I can point to and declare that I became a digital illustrator.
I know this because I remember sitting on the train from DC to Williamsburg,
Virginia,
Trying to complete my collection of 30 dogs in 30 days project in preparation for illustrating the aforementioned book.
It's not an exact date that I became an illustrator,
But rather a season As I record this,
It's the last day of September 2025.
Just over two weeks ago,
I had my 46th birthday.
As far as I can recall,
It is the most unmemorable birthday I've ever had.
Of course,
I wouldn't remember any other unmemorable birthdays due to their very nature of being forgettable.
I make this statement about my recent birthday based on the balloons and confetti-o-meter.
With all my family and friends in other parts of the world and in different time zones and locations,
It's less easy to make a big fanfare when it's a party of two and half of that party is under the weather.
So being the healthy birthday girl that I was,
I took myself down to the park,
Got my bare feet on the grass,
Listened to a birthday meditation and I journaled.
For the first time ever,
I actually sat quietly with myself on what is literally my personal New Year's Day.
I wrote honestly and reflected deeply.
I set intentions and allowed myself to dream of possibilities.
That moment,
Which lasted about two hours,
Turned out to be the most profoundly memorable,
Unmemorable birthday celebration of my life.
As I sat there,
I noticed a group of people nearby laying down their yoga mats and beginning a yoga session.
Just a few moments before,
I had written in my goals for the coming year that I wanted to join more in-person events.
My curiosity was piqued and I managed to find details of this weekly yoga group on the Meetups app.
I registered for the upcoming events and have since joined that yoga group on two occasions since.
Every one of us has our own annual season of new beginnings.
The three months that follow your birthday is your personal springtime.
We simply have to look up and notice the new buds of possibility,
The new growth.
There might be a specific date you can point to,
Like your birthday,
Or it might be a general estimation of when the change began.
Either way,
What's important is accepting that change is inevitable and it's ongoing.
There may be big neon signs that draw your attention to it,
Or it may go under your radar for longer than you'd like or intend.
Make a habit of looking around once in a while and find evidence of your growth,
Your achievements,
And set your intentions for the future.
Notice where you've gone astray and decide for yourself what habits or behaviors you'd like to reduce or remove completely.
Simply spend some quiet time with your feet on the grass,
Writing down your thoughts and your Be an active participant in your change rather than a byproduct of it,
And mark the occasion with the proverbial balloons and confetti if you must,
Or don't.
