Redefining “New Year” Energy

Hard work is constantly redefined at Harvard as the student body perpetually sets new milestones, surmounts challenges, and beats records once thought impossible. The vein of ambition running through our Cambridge campus confirms that many students undoubtedly have even more personal, extravagant, and demanding targets for the new year. Whether this looks like taking on even more classes, joining new clubs, waking up earlier to exercise, or staying up later to read, these New Year’s resolutions are often accompanied by stress or strain. 

New Year’s resolutions are meant to push us out of our comfort zones and transform our habits. In order to maximize the success and enjoyment we hope to gain from new resolutions, we should consider the times at which we start them. For many, these early winter months symbolize slowing down and resting, rather than embracing new beginnings and experiencing rapid growth. 

This year, instead of trying to employ my usual New Year’s resolution tradition—which typically fails within the first three weeks—I decided to try a different method to help me focus on successfully starting new habits and ending old ones. On the night of the winter solstice, Dec. 21, 2025, I wrote out 13 targets I hoped would happen in the new year. Each night until Jan. 1, 2026, I set a note on fire. On New Year’s Day, I opened the final target, which became the single goal I chose to focus on for the year ahead. The rest were left for the universe to control, offering both a sense of hope and a quiet reminder of my ambitions.

This activity was not only enjoyable—since I did it with my mum—but it also reshaped my perspective on how I want to approach future ambitions. Beginning this process on the winter solstice made it feel more connected to the natural world; as the days grew longer, the ritual became a symbol of growth, renewal, and progression.

When we think of New Year’s resolutions, we think of them as mechanisms to create idealised versions of ourselves. They are commonly portrayed as being healthy, exciting, and transformable. However, they also create a looming possibility of failure if we do not complete or achieve them, making the New Year feel less like a clean slate and more like a guilty conscience.

The issue with setting personal goals at the beginning of a significant shift in time—at the start of a whole new year—is that if you do not meet those targets, your outlook on the rest of the year is soiled, and you are left with a sense of utter failure. If we try to better understand the intent behind these personal goals and the time at which we start them, we can become more successful in completing them.

The New Year falls during a time when most Americans are hunkered down, trying to survive freezing wind chills and snowstorms. The energy of the Earth suggests that we should do as nature around us does: hibernate until lighter and warmer days. Whether it is the frozen Charles or sunsets at 4:30 p.m., everything seems to lie dormant in January. Humans are meant to do the same.

Taking a long afternoon nap on a snowy weekday is not as shameful as high-powered resolution culture portrays it to be. We should take the natural cycles of the Earth as a signal that January is a hard month of survival, and that forcing ourselves to wake up early, overwork, or exercise excessively is more demanding than we realize during this natural hibernation month.

It seems appropriate to pair new resolutions with the concepts of new life, growth, and transition. Spring embodies all these aspects, therefore making it a far more appealing time to try resolutions. The meteorological spring officially starts on March 1 in the United States, signaling the transition from the three coldest months to the three warmest months of the year. It would not be so ridiculous to suggest starting our New Year’s resolutions when spring begins. Our bodies are tuned to the rotation of the earth, and the shift could naturally aid our new targets and personal ambitions.

This idea of celebrating the New Year at a different time is not a contemporary concept. Pagans celebrate the natural cycles and changes of the earth by placing their holy days on significant shifts connected to the Earth and seasons. Imbolc, a significant Celtic celebration, is set for Feb. 1, a marker of the first signs of spring and honoring the goddess Brigid. The celebration upholds themes of renewal and a return to light and inspiration. This year, the Chinese Lunar New Year takes place on Tuesday, Feb. 17. The Year of the Horse ushers in strength, momentum, and forward motion, all symbols of progress and ambition.

The timing of both these celebrations, along with many other worldwide celebrations of new life and beginnings, makes resolutions more achievable. It is not just the transition of a calendar date, but the natural transitions of seasons all around the world.

Starting the new semester with fresh goals, rules, and targets for ourselves reinforces our determination as students to always strive for improvement. However, this should not mean starving our bodies and minds of what they need during this time of year. Rather than seeing the beginning of 2026 as a time for arduous targets, we should focus on how our bodies are connected with the earth and understand that the time for change and development need not always be on Jan. 1.

New Year’s resolutions are not always meant to be easy, but they should be rewarding and helpful to our ways of life. We should start the new year by being kinder to ourselves and by doing things we enjoy. Encouraging uplifting emotions through our resolutions is ultimately what we want out of them. It is important that we avoid putting restrictive rules on ourselves during harsher natural seasons when we already feel drained and in need of self-care. There are always opportunities to set new goals or change our habits, and it makes sense to do this in tune with the natural periods of growth, warmth, and new life in the Earth’s cycles. Start new resolutions when the times feel right and more natural for you.

Tilly Butterworth ’28 (mbutterworth@college.harvard.edu) is challenging herself to take more naps this winter.