Endings & beginnings, always intertwined ♾️
Hi friends,
The end of a year feels like a threshold—a bridge between what has been and what lies ahead. As Lao Tzu reminds us: “Take care with the end as you do with the beginning.”Endings and beginnings are inseparable, constantly intertwined.
Do you have an end-of-year ritual? How do you honor your endings?
For me, I’ve often turned to rituals to let go—writing things on paper and throwing them into the fire . There’s something satisfying about imagining the past burning away, like you can just let it go and be free of it. But that’s not really how it works, is it? Fire doesn’t make the paper disappear—it transforms it. The paper becomes heat, light, ash, and gases, changing form but not truly vanishing.
Instead of "letting go," what if we focused on transmuting the past, choosing how it influences us? The past will shape us in ways we don’t always see—especially when we don’t take the time to reckon with it.
What if we approached endings with reverence instead of just release? What if we honored the past versions of ourselves for what they’ve taught us, trusting they’ve prepared us for what’s next—just as we honor our ancestors?
And what if, instead of loud celebrations to call in the New Year, we whispered its power in? Beginnings hold a quieter potential—not the accumulated energy of endings, but a fragile newness. With nurturing and patience, that potential can grow into something lasting. Without care, though, beginnings may falter, leaving us to start over again and again.
It’s a bit like planting a seed. At first glance, it seems like nothing’s happening. But beneath the surface, there’s quiet work being done—foundations being laid, roots starting to form. With the right balance of sunlight, water, and care, a seed can grow into its full potential. But here’s the truth: not all beginnings take root.
What beginnings do you wish to nourish this year?
When I think about reconnecting with our heritage, our roots, and the strength of those who came before us, I’m reminded that this practice requires steady and intentional nurturing. At the same time, we try to transmute what no longer serves us—honoring the ways our past selves or family patterns were shaped for survival while allowing those endings to guide us toward something new.
The work of decolonization is the constant interplay of endings and beginnings—of becoming both the cycle breaker and the cycle builder of your lineage.
I’m excited to share what I’ve been working on with you on January 1st. It’s an offering designed to help you with a beginning—to learn the physical skills of Kali in manageable steps while sowing the inner soil of your decolonization journey this winter.
Stay tuned!
Guro Kristen