How are we meant to create resolutions and new beginnings in the depths of winter?
I’ve always deferred my fresh start to the Persian new year, but this January I’ve been suddenly forced to imagine a new life for myself
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The concept of starting a new year in the dead of winter is at odds with both my personal proclivities and the natural world. I have never liked January and the forced self-betterment that comes along with it. There is something deeply perverse about trying to rebirth yourself while everything else is resting and hibernating.
In the UK, the end of the old year and the beginning of the new are marked by biting cold, overcast skies and days that are over before they’ve had a chance to begin. I should be fattening up and sleeping like the noble bear, not trying to force myself out of bed to exercise. It’s dark when you wake up, it’s dark when you leave work, it’s likely to be dark when you scuttle outside during your lunch break to grab a sad little sandwich. How can anyone expect us to start afresh in this context?
I’ve always deferred my new beginning to Nowruz, the (superior) Persian new year, which aligns with the first day of spring. The trees are starting to blossom, the days are longer, baby animals are being born. There is a feeling of hope returning to the world. It just makes more sense to begin again at this time, like a daffodil.
Translating to “new day”, Nowruz has its origins in a festival celebrated by Zoroastrians, practitioners of the pre-Islamic religion of Iran, so many of the associated traditions relate to nature and renewal. We also have our own kinds of resolutions, as families decorate haft-sin tables featuring seven symbolic items beginning with the letter “s”, representing blessings they hope to receive.
This all means that as a British Iranian, I get a second chance after I inevitably fail whatever half-hearted resolutions I concocted in the five-day void between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. A look at my January aims for last year include “be better at replying to messages”. Oops.
This year I’m trying something different and giving January a proper go — though my change in perspective is due to personal circumstances, rather than a sudden affinity for the Gregorian calendar. The end of 2024 saw the dissolution of a long-term relationship and an unforeseen end to my previously secure housing situation, so I was forced into making a fresh start in the depths of winter, whether I liked it or not. As hard as it’s been, I have always tried to see change as positive and, as my life seemed to upend in tandem with the start of a new calendar, I thought assigning some desires would help me navigate the abyss that had suddenly replaced the structure I had known.
A week into January, however, I found myself staring blankly at the empty “Ideas and Goals” page of my new 2025 weekly planner, trying to think of things I hope to achieve other than finally getting Botox. I struggled and turned to Google in an attempt to find inspiration. The top results from a recent YouGov poll about Britons’ resolutions include: “save more/spend less”, “get fit/exercise more”, “lose weight”, “gain new skills and knowledge”, and “better health”. Seventh on the list is “be a better person, personality and attitude improvements” — a goal that made me laugh out loud in its powerful optimism and guaranteed failure.
Experts usually advise breaking down your goals into small and manageable chunks. Think “do 10 sit-ups a day” rather than “become fit and healthy”. After 10 sit-ups, it’s easier to move on to doing 20, 50, or becoming the pilates instructor you wish to be. I eventually set my sights on doing 15 minutes of breathwork and stretching in the morning, a lofty ambition for someone who struggles to get out of bed before 11am and hates exercise.
I also set upon regular journaling (in an attempt to help me process things until I can afford a therapist who justifies my bad behaviour), and less screen-time — who among us would not benefit from less time scrolling on our phone? Having no fixed abode for the time being, I also hope to spend Ramadan in a Muslim country to reconnect with the practical side of my faith. These all feel manageable and achievable; incremental changes that will hopefully lead to a greater overall quality of life.
These are inward-looking personal aims — as new year resolutions often are — but I also know that if we want to affect any meaningful change in our own lives, we should shift our focus outward and live with collective care in mind. For me, that means continuing to advocate for a free Palestine; and making sustainable choices that avoid fast fashion and yearly phone upgrades.
Big life changes often come with uncertainty and anxiety, but they also offer a blank page and the freedom to start over again. That’s the essence of a new year, whatever the weather. Maybe I’ll use my new-found free time to finally write a book. Maybe I’ll move to Mexico. I may have lost the future that I thought I had mapped out, but rather than mourn what could have been, for the first time, I’m trying to use the untouched canvas of 2025 as an opportunity to imagine a new life with new possibilities.
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