John R. Miles

That strange, tender stretch between who we've been and who we're allowed to become.

We've reawakened possibility.

we found courage in discomfort.

We remembered how to matter, really matter, to the people who matter most.

And now, here we are.

The calendar is about to turn.

The tree is still up.

The world is soft and away.

It won't be tomorrow.

Before we talk about resolutions,

Before we name what we want to start, I want to name something quieter and more honest.

Transformation isn't about addition.

Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is subtraction, not in a harsh or self-critical way, not by shaming ourselves into change, but by choosing gently, deliberately, lovingly to lay down something that no longer deserves to travel with us.

Every one of us is carrying at least one thing that has outlived its purpose.

Not because we're broken, but because at one point it kept us safe.

Safety, though, is not the same thing as freedom.

And tonight, Christmas night, the world gives us a rare permission slip.

We're allowed to outgrow what once protected us.

without having to hate it first.

Because the space it leaves behind is where imagination returns.