Lunar New Year, often referred to as Chinese New Year, marks the beginning of a new year on the lunisolar calendar and is celebrated across many East and Southeast Asian cultures, including China, Vietnam, Korea, Singapore, and Malaysia. The holiday typically falls between Jan. 21 and Feb. 20, depending on the lunar cycle.
Traditionally, it’s a time for family reunions, honoring ancestors, symbolic meals, and welcoming prosperity. Homes are cleaned before the new year to sweep away bad luck and make space for blessings. Red decorations symbolize joy and protection, and the elders’ gift of red envelopes filled with money as a gesture of abundance.
Each year in the Chinese zodiac is represented by one of 12 animals, cycling every 12 years and paired with one of five elements of wood, fire, earth, metal, or water, and creating a 60-year cycle. This Lunar New Year falls upon the Year of the Horse, which is associated with independence, vitality, and bold forward movement.
Beyond symbolism, the Lunar New Year represents something deeply human: the opportunity to pause, reflect, and consciously step into a new chapter. This year, that pause feels different to me.
If the last year was about shedding illusions and seeing clearly, then this one is about running with that vision. The Year of the Snake is said to have revealed the truth, while the Horse now demands momentum. With this theme in mind, I’ve compiled all the various ways in which I aim to take control of this energy and move forward.
Clearing physical space to move lighter
For me, momentum requires lightness. Before I could even think about expansion, I had to confront how much I was physically holding onto. Clothes that no longer reflected who I am. The old sweatshirts felt sentimental but also depressing. The jeans I never reached for but somehow kept justifying. If the Snake symbolizes shedding, then this was my skin.
There’s something deeply psychological about discarding what you no longer choose. It signals to your brain that you are serious about forward motion. To help with the process of getting rid of my own clothes, I try to view it as not donating them because they’re worn out, but rather because I’ve outgrown them.
I extended that intention into the more mundane corners of my life, like expired makeup, cluttered drawers, old utensils, the inside of my purse, and the bottom of my school bag. A deep clean isn’t about aesthetics but about respecting the environment I move through daily. If I want to run fast this year, the space around me can’t slow me down.
Detoxing my digital spaces to sharpen my direction
The digital clutter is sometimes heavier than the physical one. Old photos from relationships that had already completed their chapter. The contact in your phone that you hope will eventually reach out. Following people whose lives created comparison instead of clarity. Pinterest boards filled with outdated goals, or notes in my notes app that bring me back to hard times.
I deleted what no longer aligned, or supported me, and where I was going. Then I rebuilt the space on my phone intentionally. Instead of abstract vision boards, I pinned specifics such as acceptance emails, New York City commutes to huge headquarters, internship offer letters, and screenshots of bank statements reflecting my own earned money. When deleting old pictures, I replaced the sad reminiscing with reaching out to old friends I haven’t spoken to in a while — choosing people who choose me.
Removing things without filling will just lead to emptiness. So, make sure to replace old goals, habits, or people with new ones. Sure, intentionality takes time sitting with yourself, but starting down a new path is better than wandering around the circle of the old one
Redefining ambition with specificity and silence
This year, I wrote down exactly what I want my life to look like. Financially. Professionally. Geographically. Emotionally. I’m no longer shrinking the vision to make it more digestible. No editing it to sound realistic. If the Year of the Horse symbolizes boldness and independence, then my ambition should reflect that same fearlessness.
I wrote down all the goals I want to accomplish this year, and then in the next five years, and then 10 years. Initially, they started as vague, but I took the time to develop them into SMART goals: making them specific, measurable, achievable, realistic, and time-relevant. Even for the most unrealistic or delusional goal, speaking into existence the parameters or the circumstances that will exist eventually for me is still so powerful.
The most important part of this ritual is pairing these ambitions with silence. I’m not announcing every goal or explaining every move. Some momentum weakens under commentary. Some dreams grow stronger in private. Not to say that others are bad-intentioned, but oftentimes subconscious jealousy, insecurity, or ignorance can intrude into conversations of wild aspirations and dampen the spirit.
Choosing spontaneity over overthinking
For years, I equated discipline with control. Careful planning. Safe decisions. Calculated risks. However, in trying to avoid chaos, I also avoided expansion. This year, I’m doing more spontaneously. Saying yes to the last-minute dinner. Booking the trip without dissecting every possible outcome. Allowing myself to be overbooked with experiences instead of overbooked with anxiety.
What I’ve realized is that overthinking is often just fear disguised as responsibility. It feels productive, even proactive, like I’m protecting my future self. I think that it keeps me suspended in place. It delays the very growth I claim to want. There’s a difference between being thoughtful and being stalled.
Momentum isn’t built through perfect preparation but rather through movement, trying, and instinct. Through trusting yourself that you can adjust mid-stride. Spontaneity isn’t recklessness; it’s self-trust in action. It’s believing that I’m capable enough to handle what unfolds instead of needing to control it before it begins.
With all these new clearings, detoxes, and redefining I’m doing for myself, I realized something freeing: nothing’s chasing me. Not a timeline. Not a person. Not the old versions of myself. The field is open.
For so long, I operated from a place of quiet urgency as if I were behind, as if something were slipping away. I now realize that pressure was largely internal. When I released it, I felt space return to me. The vastness to choose to spread out in front of me.
The field is open, and that means I move because I want to, not because I’m trying to outrun something. There’s no invisible clock ticking down. The only possibility is expanding outward to feel momentum in its purest form.
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