Happy new year.Â
Do you have any resolutions? What do you have planned for 2026? These questions are exciting for some, stress-inducing for others, and entirely pointless for the rest. They may even obscure the question that plagues many if not all of us young people, posed quite prettily by Mary Oliver, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
They say bitterness comes from betraying your own possibilities. Maybe you’ve felt it too: the quiet ache of a life half-lived. As an idealist who wants every decision to mean something, I often find myself lost in the endless labyrinth of choosing the so-called “right” path. Regardless of whether or not this is our one life (I like to entertain the possibility of reincarnation), it is still our life right now, and every choice can assume the burdensome weight of forever. That pressure is what keeps us from living at all.Â
Moreover, living in a digital age where the “ideal image” is constantly shifting, it’s almost impossible to pinpoint what exactly is “right” for each individual. We then become hyperfocused on a kind of overcorrecting, to the detrimental extent of losing who we really are. Genuine connection is substituted for Instagram posts documenting our morning routines, our matcha lattes, our carefully curated mindfulness practices. We trade spontaneous joy for the strict schedules of our meditation apps and yoga classes. What’s ironic is that while we’re all striving for wellness, we’re missing out on the very things that truly nourish us: community, laughter, and the freedom to simply be. Does the pursuit of the “right” and “good” life ultimately lead us astray?
It doesn’t have to.Â
In the Chinese Zodiac, 2026 is the Year of the Horse. Among other significances, it symbolises running; running towards energy, freedom, movement, and enthusiasm.Â
In this time of transition, external pressures to “get back on the grind” can be overwhelming. How do we get there, anyway? For many, myself included, the answer lies in extensive lists, Google calendar-ing, and self-imposed rules. In the modern day, burnout is too often misinterpreted as ambition.Â
Sure, ambition can give us useful momentum–a sensation of “running”–but at what point does it replace contentment with competition? Somewhere along the way, it becomes narrowing. We let ourselves be funnelled into one lane, one career, one interest. Perhaps we are afraid that curiosity will be mistaken for inconsistency, that changing direction will earn us the label of fickle. On the other hand, we are narrowed into absolutely no decision at all, fearful of becoming trapped in a life that is not truly our own. So we keep running, even when the path disappears entirely from under our feet.Â
But I’m tired of living life like it’s a race. Sometimes I think I’ve realized that if bitterness comes from betraying your own possibilities, then joy comes from accepting the fact that these possibilities are infinite. Maybe the goal isn’t to escape the race track altogether, but to move with intention, to loosen our grip on speed, and dive, head first, into the glorious uncertainty that is the future. If this feels intimidating, especially in the first week back at school, rest assured, the Year of the Horse doesn’t officially commence until February 17, Chinese New Year, leaving us plenty of time to adjust, steady ourselves, and find our feet.Â
In 2026, I don’t plan to stop moving. I don’t want to sit back and watch my figs rot because I couldn’t decide which ones to pick (if you don’t know what this means, go read The Bell Jar). And so, I’ll keep on running, but take no heed of whether I’m among the herd or not.Â
Reclaim this movement as a choice, not a punishment.Â
Movement towards expansion, towards gratitude, towards new beginnings.Â
Happy New Year.