Beginning the Year with Beauty

At the turn of a new year, many people choose to create resolutions. Another approach is to choose a single word for the year. A grounding word. An aspirational word. A word that becomes a quiet companion for the months ahead.

In past years, words such as flourish, becoming, and enough have offered me direction and steadiness. Each carried its own lesson and invitation. Each shaped attention, choices, and perspective in subtle but meaningful ways.

The word I initially chose for 2026 was flexibility. It seemed practical and even wise. And then came the realization that life is generous with opportunities to practice flexibility. Perhaps overly generous. The call for my year ahead feels different.

My chosen word is beauty.

Beauty is not an easy word in the current moment. Finding beauty while reading the news can feel nearly impossible. Finding beauty in vile, hate-filled language can feel counterintuitive. Finding beauty during challenging physical and mental health moments can feel unfair or out of reach. So, beauty remains an aspiration.

Beauty offers presence.

Beauty offers time.

Beauty offers attention.

The word beauty invites a pause long enough to notice what is still here. Beauty does not deny what is broken or painful. It simply refuses to let that be the only story.

Recently, I spent time in Santa Fe and was reminded how readily beauty reveals itself when attention slows. A home furnishings store stopped me in my tracks, not because of what was for sale, but because of the care in the layout, the textures, and the quiet intention behind each choice.

Walking Canyon Road at dusk, lights began to glow against adobe walls, art spilled from open doors, and conversations softened as evening settled in. Meals arrived with color and care, each plate a small act of creativity. And then there were the sunsets, the mountains holding the sky as it shifted through shades that felt surreal. None of it demanded urgency. All of it invited presence and a slower pace.

Beauty does not require a change in geography. It is a choice that begins with a change in how life is viewed.

Helen Keller captured this truth with clarity and grace:

“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.”

Beauty is often felt before it is named. It lives in connection, possibility, and meaning.

In his novel, I See You Called in Dead, John Kenney writes of a character who “fell in love with beauty... The beauty of people, of possibility, of art.” That kind of love widens the lens. It restores a sense of humanity when cynicism feels easier.

Choosing beauty is not about forced optimism or looking away from suffering. It is about choosing where attention is focused. It is about allowing gratitude to exist alongside grief. Like any practice, noticing beauty strengthens with repetition, especially when life feels heavy.

As a new year begins, perhaps the invitation is not to try to fix everything or become someone new overnight. Perhaps the invitation is to notice. To feel. To allow beauty to soften the edges of hard days and remind the heart what still matters.

A challenge for you: This week, choose one ordinary moment each day and pause long enough to ask, what is quietly beautiful here? There is no need to capture it, fix it, or explain it. Simply notice and feel. Let that be enough.

Reflective questions:

• Where has beauty already been present, even quietly, in recent days?

• What might shift this year if one ordinary moment each day were approached with the intention to notice beauty?

Happy New Year, my friend.

In your corner, 

Linda

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