What the year uncovered
The jacarandas are dropping their purple across the hinterland roads again, which means the year is coming to a close.
And what a year. I won't pretend 2026 was gentle. For me it asked a lot. There were days I didn't want to get out of bed, and days I was so cracked open I didn't recognise myself. Being human is tough, and nobody hands you a manual. And yet it's been the most creative, most clarifying year of my life. Not in spite of the hard parts, but because of them.
So before the silly season swallows us whole, I want to invite you to stop. Not to plan next year or set intentions, not yet. First we look back, honestly, at what this year actually did to you and for you.
First, write and burn
Before you reflect on anything, clear the decks.
Find a fire-safe bowl, a candle or the fire pit, and some paper. Write down everything you're still carrying from this year that you don't want to take with you. The resentment you've been politely swallowing. The story you keep telling yourself about not being enough. The person you're still arguing with in your head at 2am. The version of you that kept saying yes when every cell said no.
Don't be tidy about it. Don't make it pretty. Scribble, swear, cry if it comes. This is for no one's eyes.
When it's all out, read it once. Then burn it. Watch the paper curl and the smoke lift, and let it go up with it. Say out loud, "I'm done carrying this," and mean it as much as you can today. When the ashes are cool, bury or scatter them back to the earth.
Then have a glass of water, take a breath, and come back.
Now, meet the woman you were in January
Close your eyes and picture yourself at the start of this year. Where were you living, in your body and in your life? What were you scared of? What did you think you wanted? What were you pretending not to know?
Now look at yourself today. Sit with these, and write if it helps.
What did this year strip away that I thought I couldn't live without?
What did I survive that January me would never have believed I could?
Where did I finally stop abandoning myself?
What parts of me were uncovered this year: my rage, my tenderness, my power, my grief, my wildness?
What have I learned about being human, the beautiful, messy, ridiculous art of it?
Where did I meet Spirit this year, in a person, a place, a moment that cracked me open?
What do I know about myself now that I didn't know before?
Don't rush to tie it up with a bow. Some of what's been revealed won't make sense yet. Let it be rough. Let it be true.
Here's what I've come to know this year: what I'd been reaching for all this time, the thing I call quintessence, was never outside me. It was in me the whole time. It's in you too. Every hard thing this year has been peeling back another layer so you can see it.
So walk in your own feet. Not the shoes of who you were in January, or who everyone needs you to be. Your own feet, on your own ground, carrying only what's yours.
What's stirring
The Quintessential Retreat · 15–20 April 2027, Milkbar Valley, Northern NSW
Five nights for women, held in ceremony and nature, in the dome among the rainforest. I'm keeping it to 12 or 13 women. Places from $1,888, and a $333 deposit holds yours. Read more and save your place
The Outback Retreat · 6–13 August 2027, near Carnarvon Gorge
Seven nights of red dirt, firelight and wide skies. Find out more
Quintessence 2027
Four women have said yes to walking together through 2027. There's one seat left. If something in you has been wanting to be birthed and has never had the space, you might already know it's yours. Reach out to me
Until next moon,
Tracey
