As the year draws to a close, something ancient stirs within us—the quiet question we often avoid:
Who am I beneath the roles I have played?
Accept me.
Not the version shaped by approval.
Not the identity polished for acceptance.
But the self that has waited patiently—unseen, unheard, yet alive.
Many of us carry shortcomings that are not failures, but echoes of unmet needs. We carry unlived lives—paths we abandoned while trying to fit into families, classrooms, expectations, and inherited definitions of “goodness.”
Early teachings often told us how to behave, not how to belong to ourselves. Moral science taught us right and wrong, but not truth and tenderness. We learned duty before desire, obedience before awareness.
For some, birth order defined destiny.
For some, gender expectations shaped identity.
For some, love was earned through performance.
And so we became caretakers, achievers, servers of everyone else’s needs—while quietly neglecting our own.
No one was truly fulfilled.
Not them.
Not us.
In trying to be everything for everyone, we forgot how to be someone for ourselves.
This forgetting often binds us to trauma—not just personal trauma, but ancestral memory. Pain unprocessed does not disappear; it travels. Rituals may honour ancestors, but healing requires consciousness. Karma does not punish—it repeats, until seen.
Our minds, restless like squirrels, leap endlessly between memory and imagination. Past wounds and future fears dominate the present. What we need is not more doing—but stillness, meditation, awareness.
As this year ends, we are invited to choose differently.
To interrupt repetition.
To dissolve inherited shackles.
To speak a vow—not as performance, but as presence.
OH! VOW.
I kindle my heart—
through breath,
through rhythm,
through conscious awareness.
I clear old imprints etched into my mind.
I release ancestral noise lodged in my nervous system.
I repair my thoughts.
I restore healthy flow—of blood, of breath, of being.
Awakening is not dramatic.
It is gentle.
It is cellular.
It is real.
I step into the coming year awake, charged, and smiling.
I choose nourishment over numbness.
Conscious breath over anxiety.
Discernment over noise.
Words that heal.
Thoughts that sing.
I cleanse myself.
I cleanse my relationships.
I choose presence.
I live this moment.
I release the past.
I disengage from the illusions that attempt to script my future.
Above all, I choose acceptance.
I accept me.
In that acceptance, the year does not end—it transforms.
And so do we.
