Restoration Over Resolution: Listening to Our Winter Rhythms

Caleb and I drifted off holding hands on the floats. When Josh came back with a drink, he snapped this. One of my favourite moments. Pure bliss - Caroline

As the new year lingers, I notice how quickly the conversation turns to resolutions and change. Every January, I find myself wondering whether this is really a natural time for a reset.

In the early 2000s, we were sold the idea of “new year, new me.”
In 2026, it shows up as the Monzo 1p challenge, vision boards, and endless goal-setting trends, all promising to transform our lives overnight.

At work, I feel the same pressure. Planning cycles begin. OKRs and KPIs are set. Suddenly I’m thinking about performance reviews, targets, and five-year plans. January becomes a month of acceleration before I’ve even had time to breathe.

And yet, when I look outside, I see a completely different story.

It is still deep winter.
The sun still sets before 5pm.
Trees are bare. Mornings are frosty. Most of us are tucked up indoors, craving warmth and rest.

Nature is not rushing.
Nature is resting.

So I’ve started asking myself: why do I expect to bloom in a season designed for stillness?

Maybe spring, not January, is the true season of renewal. For generations, humans lived in rhythm with the earth. Winter was for conserving energy, for reflection and restoration. Spring was for growth and new beginnings. Somewhere along the way, modern life decided the calendar year should dictate how my body and mind behave.

But my internal rhythms haven’t changed just because the diary says it’s a new year.

I see more and more how burnout and mental health struggles have become normalised. I feel it in myself too — the constant expectation to perform, to improve, to push forward, even when my body and mind are quietly asking me to slow down.

I recently read that it can take around two weeks to truly unwind from the stress of work and daily life. That stayed with me. For many of us, the festive break lasts about two weeks. Which means just as I finally begin to relax, just as my nervous system starts to settle, I’m thrown straight back into emails, meetings, and to-do lists with the added pressure of becoming a “better version” of myself.

No wonder January can feel so heavy.

When I look to nature, I’m reminded that seeds don’t sprout in frozen soil. Animals hibernate rather than hustle. The earth spends winter quietly gathering strength so it can burst into colour later.

Sunset in Margret River, Australia, with my partner. The most peaceful I felt the entire holiday, just existing - Flavia

I am not so different.

Restoration is not laziness.
Stillness is not failure.
Moving gently through winter isn’t giving up on my goals, it’s preparing for them.

At Moon House, I’ve always wanted to create a space where we listen to ourselves instead of pushing against our own needs. A place where we support one another through real life, not impossible expectations.

So this year, I’m giving myself permission to do things differently.

If I feel tired, unmotivated, or simply not ready for a big reset, I remind myself that this is okay. More than okay, it’s human.

I’m letting January be soft.
Letting February be steady.
Trusting that spring will come, and with it, my energy will return.

For now, I choose to rest, to restore, and to honour my own rhythm, knowing that when it’s time to bloom, I will.

Caroline 🤍