On the Edge of the Year: Setting Rhythms, Not Resolutions

by Ashley Barbour, LMFTA – Counselor at Asheville Family Counseling

As the old year settles into the moss and the new one stretches – bare-branched and full of potential – we find ourselves standing on a threshold.

In my Appalachian kin’s way of knowing, this in-between time, the edge of the year, holds a special kind of power. It’s a time for taking stock of the haint and the hearth.

What spirits from the past year still need to be laid to rest?

The disappointments. The griefs that cling like burrs.

And what embers on your hearth still glow, ready to be kindled into this year’s warmth?

The small resilience. The quiet joy. The connection that held.

During my years in Wales, I learned the word hiraeth. It describes a homesickness for a home you cannot return to, or a longing for what has not yet come to be. As you step forward into this new year, you may carry a piece of this ache with you.

Not as a burden, but as a compass.

That longing can gently point you toward what your soul truly yearns to create, to heal, or to welcome in the coming turn of the sun.

So, as the calendar turns, I offer this folk-wise nudge:

Set Rhythms, Not Resolutions

Rather than sharp, frantic resolutions, consider rhythms. Think of the steady pull of a river instead of the quick flash of a firework. What small, daily tending does your spirit-garden need?

Gently Lay the Old Year to Rest

An old Appalachian practice involved sprinkling ashes from the hearth at the property line for protection and cleansing. What symbolic ashes do you need to scatter – marking a boundary with what has passed, while honoring what it gave?

Trust the Candlemas Promise

Around February 2nd, a Welsh proverb says, “On Candlemas Day, throw a candle away.” It marks the point when the light has truly returned. If January feels dark or heavy, remember: the promise is already sealed. The light is turning back toward us. Your job is simply to trust the turn.

This year, may you walk your path with the sturdy, grounded wisdom of the mountains and the deep, poetic longing of the Celtic soul.

May you have the courage to look honestly at your shadows—and the gentleness to honor your own light.

Here’s to weaving a year of resilience, connection, and profound peace.

If you’re feeling drawn to explore your own rhythms, tend old embers, or gently release what no longer serves you, I’d be honored to walk alongside you.

You can learn more about working with Ashley here or call/text 828-761-3149 to schedule a free, 15-minute Exploratory Call.

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