While I walked through the magical forest, the scent of decaying leaves and damp moss filled my senses, captivating me completely. I was mesmerized by the sight of tall trees, their branches stretching toward heaven like ancient protectors. Every step I took caused the crunching of leaves to echo in the peaceful environment. The tranquil winter landscape, painted in shades of gray and white, evoked serenity. The air was crisp and biting, each breath leaving a visible puff of condensation. Delicate ice crystals clung to the bare branches, sparkling in the weak winter sunlight. The sound of crunching frost underfoot filled the silence, as the world seemed hushed under winter’s kiss. The scent of the season lingered—a mix of fresh pine and a hint of wood smoke drifting from the village at the southern edge of the forest. Despite the cold, one could not help but notice the beauty of this frozen landscape by simply being there, present. Winter, though a season of hibernation, subtly energized the forest, preparing it for the vibrant rebirth ahead.

However, during the long, bleak winter months, I came to understand that even adversity brought opportunities for growth. The clock showed nine a.m., yet a pre-dawn gloom lingered in the atmosphere, and my initial coffee sip motivated me to pursue new creative endeavors. For a brief moment, my mind became confused, tricked into thinking the day was ending. However, during winter’s longer nights and colder days, I realized I needed to change my approach to enjoying this season. Inspired by the forest’s seasonal adaptation, I found my way to endure and flourish.

Many creatures dwelling in the forest followed a similar path: they adapted, waited, and transformed adversity into a natural and essential part of their life cycle. In contrast, we often found ourselves swept up in the unrelenting rhythm dictated by society—work, school, obligations—leaving little time to pause and reflect on what it truly means to live, to be, to exist. This rhythm pulled us outward, toward superficial distractions, keeping us disconnected from our essence. But what if we stripped away all the things we thought defined us? What would remain beneath the layers of roles, possessions, and expectations?

Let’s suppose I took away your fancy brands, your precious jewelry, and your expensive car—what’s left at your core? What message did your heart convey, free from the noise of external distractions? In a world dominated by social media, what did you share that held real value? Perhaps the problem wasn’t what we owned, but how easily we allowed ourselves to be distracted by it, neglecting our deepest values and priorities.

True luxury didn’t lie in possessions but in the irreplaceable gifts of time and presence—moments like feeling the warmth of the sun, witnessing a breathtaking sunset, or marveling at clouds dancing across the sky. How much would you trade to embrace a loved one who was no longer here? It was in such moments that we rediscovered the essence of life and found a renewed sense of self-awareness and meaning.

And yet, the more I lived, the more I saw; and the more I saw, the more I seemed to overlook. There was so much I wanted to learn that at times, I found myself frozen—overwhelmed by the sheer vastness of all I had yet to understand. But this year, I was ready to change that. I wanted to cultivate consistency and discipline, to deepen my connection with nature, nourish my body and mind with intention, and achieve financial independence—without becoming trapped in the endless grind of the system.

Life was fleeting, yet time felt infinite. Our will was often fragile, but within that fragility lay the potential for resilience. The key was to take it moment by moment, one small step at a time. Each decision, no matter how small, could create meaning in this fleeting existence.

As I reflected on this, I saw how those unexamined beliefs could become anchors. Inherited without foundation or validation in our present context, they weighed us down and hindered our progress. Yes, some things learned at home remained constant. These included the values that guided our moral compass, the ability to empathize, and the importance of respect. Together, they shaped our character. However, there were many other beliefs that required profound transformation for our well-being and that of our loved ones. This process might be painful, but it was ultimately rewarding. Our goal was to remain true to ourselves. This meant seeking not external approval, but internal peace. We had to leave behind anything that hindered our growth—anything that inhibited our flexibility and resilience, blocking our ability to adapt, change, and grow as people, and hindering our personal development.

On this path of transformation, I realized I wanted to share the experiences that had shaped me most over these past five years. I’d learned so much, but where to begin? Perhaps the best way was to start with what had given me the most profound and complete vision of life: nature.

Learning how the seasons and nature behaved locally had been eye-opening. I’d learned to read the rays of the sun, felt the thrill of finding an edible mushroom for the first time—a mushroom I’d only known from books—and discovered those secret spots in the forest the following year. The joy and excitement of these moments were unique and fleeting, just like life itself.

How wonderful it was to relish those rare sunny days of summer, when the clouds glowed at night far away formed by vapour, dust, ice (noctilucent clouds). Ribbons of colorful light—green, blue, and violet—danced freely, filling me with wonder (northern lights). These were phenomena unique to certain northern latitudes, where the solar wind collided with a different magnetic field in Earth’s atmosphere.

I also thought about standing in the middle of the forest, perhaps undressing (without offending anyone’s sense of morality), and tanning completely, mindful of my expression lines and avoiding the tan lines of a swimsuit. I imagined walking these trails with the good people I’d encountered in life—seeing together the clusters of mushrooms in various colors adorning the forest floor under certain conditions, and later gracing my kitchen, and eventually my plate.

How I’d love for all those kind souls who had offered me their friendship throughout different stages of my life to experience this—not as something exclusive, for they surely lived the intensity of life in their own time, their own way, and with their own preferences—but because my encounters with the forest were a dream I wished to share.

I had tasks to do. I didn’t think I was late, but I had to pick up the pace. There was so much to write, to translate from emotion and thought into text.

This year, as in years past, I wished you peace and health. For everything else, work for it. Happy New Year.

Last modified on 2024-12-30