How to Choose a Theme for the Year Ahead (Without Forcing Resolutions)

Photo by Mohit Deorukhkar on Unsplash‍ ‍

I love December for many reasons: for the chance to sit in the sun and soak in the warmth of Delhi winters (I’ve successfully managed to tune out the AQI, especially since I live in a relatively greener apartment complex). For the simple joy of burrowing into my blanket and getting comfortable in the cold. For the year-end break, where I switch off as close to Vipassana as possible. And for the reflections it brings — on the year that’s ending and the hope that comes with the new one.

For a few years now, I’ve let go of resolutions and replaced them with intentions for the coming year. Some of these intentions do involve thinking about what I might do, setting tentative goals, or reflecting on my “inputs”. But they’re directional. The main focus is always the theme for the year: how do I want myself and my life to be (or evolve into)? That then expands into four or five intentions.
(I’ve shared more about my idea of themes and intentions here.)

In October, I could already sense a theme emerging for the next year, without yet having a word for it. I could feel myself moving toward something new, especially with a few endings I experienced over the last few months.

But I still didn’t quite know how I wanted to be with this “new.” It had yet to emerge.

“If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it’s not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take. That’s why it’s your path.”
 — Joseph Campbell

For some context: 2021–23 was a period of a major transition for me. I wasn’t just navigating a new career, but a completely new way of life. I wanted to break free from many anchors that felt like tethers. I wanted to be free. And I did that, so much so that I felt I would never want any tethers in my life again.

Then 2024 happened. While going through a stressful phase, something shifted. I found myself longing for belonging. I wanted some stability. But I also rebelled hard against that desire in my mind because I worked so hard to be free. That’s when a friend shared this excerpt with me:

“If you’ve suffered an anxiety attack, maybe you’ve encountered the grounding techniques of the five senses… There is a mysterious entanglement between our welfare and our capacity to ground ourselves in a particular place. We are meant to be connected to our where, to the sensory experience of it…

I used to romanticize a nomadic existence… It makes me wince to think that I thought I could learn myself by untethering. I’m very skeptical of this today.

For those of us whose sense of place speaks more of trauma than of belonging, it is understandable to think that the sole and sacred solution would be to belong nowhere at all. But this is alienation masquerading as freedom…

French philosopher and mystic Simone Weil said, ‘To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognized need of the human soul.’ Alienation and trauma of place are best met not with dislocation but with belonging — with a defiant rootedness, even if those roots stretch out to new and safer places.”
 — Cole Arthur Riley, This Here Flesh

Being a romantic at heart, words move me deeply. This excerpt strongly resonated and inspired my theme for 2025: to find new roots.

And interestingly, I feel rooted enough — both in my personal and my professional life. Last month, as I was planning what I wanted to learn on the professional front, I decided to join a mastermind starting in January. It had two tiers: Root and Rise. And guess what: based on their structure, Rise felt more aligned with where I am right now.

Around the same time, I came across a powerful line by Virginia Woolf that felt like it captured everything:

“I am rooted, but I flow.”

For me, it encapsulates exactly what this “new” feels like. Despite the endings, I want to stay grounded in the strong foundations and roots I’ve grown. I want to be steady in my sense of self, and still be open to exploration and change. I feel I’ve found a home within me. And now, I feel drawn to expand my wings without abandoning that home. That’s what my 2026 is going to be about!

And here’s an invitation for you:

How do you want yourself and your life to be (or evolve into) in 2026?

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