2026: Choosing a Feeling, Not Just a Word

January 8, 2026

Every year, choosing a word has become a big thing.
And don’t get me wrong — it’s a beautiful practice.

But the other day, standing in my kitchen with my granddaughters, something shifted.

We were baking.
The girls had music playing.
There was laughter, flour on the bench, bodies moving without thinking — and joy, real and unfiltered, filling the space.

And in that moment, I realised something very clearly.

I don’t want just a word for 2026.
It needs to be more than that.
It needs to be felt.

Because when I look at the word JOYFUL, I don’t think it —
I feel it.

I see my grandchildren’s faces.
Their laughter.
The way joy moves through them without effort or explanation.

I feel that.

This year, in the moments when I felt like I couldn’t quite catch my breath — when life felt tight, heavy, or relentless — I realised I had been forgetting something very simple.

I had forgotten to pause and really see their faces.
To notice the joy they were sharing.
And to allow myself to fully feel it in my own body.

Those moments were always there.
But I was moving past them instead of letting them move through me.

Somewhere along the way, we’ve all become very busy busy-ing.
Busy doing.
Busy fixing.
Busy telling ourselves we’ll rest, breathe, or enjoy things once the list is finished.

“I’ll catch my breath later.”
“I’ll enjoy it once this settles.”

And quietly, joy gets postponed.

So for 2026, my word — my feeling — is:

JOYFUL

I haven’t chosen a word for a couple of years.
Truth be told, I’m that person who goes, “Nope — everyone’s doing it, I want something different.”

Well… this is different.

Because this one didn’t come from my head.
It came from my body, my breath, and a kitchen full of laughter.

And here’s where the thread deepens.

Rob’s grandmother’s surname was Joy.
She was one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing.
Never without a smile.
Always warm.
She didn’t talk about joy — she embodied it.

We now live in her old home — a small cottage she lived in for over 70 years.

Every time I walk through the door, I feel joy.
Her original gardens.
The way the land holds memory.
My new veggie patch growing where her hands once worked the soil.
Family gathering in a space that remembers laughter.

Everything about this cottage brings me JOY.

And yet, this year, joy hasn’t visited as often.

There has been illness.
The passing of Rob’s mum.
A renovation that seemed determined never to finish (yes — we’ve both very firmly said goodbye to that energy, with intention and a good laugh).
And my own unwellness — which, when I looked deeper, carried the quiet message of a lack of joy.

When I allowed myself to really listen, the thread was clear.

Joy hadn’t disappeared.
It had simply been postponed.

So in 2026, I’m choosing differently.

I’m choosing to feel.
To pause.
To let joy move through my body, my home, and my days — just as naturally as it does through the faces of my grandchildren.

2026 is the year I choose to feel JOYFUL.

Not someday.
Not when everything is finished.
But now.

A Gentle Invitation

As you move toward a new year, you might already have a word in mind.
Or you might not.

Both are perfect.

But perhaps, instead of asking “What should my word be?”, you could ask something softer.

✨ What do I want to feel more of this year?
✨ What do I want my body, my home, and my days to remember?

There’s no right answer.
No rush to decide.
Sometimes the feeling chooses you — in an ordinary moment, in laughter, in stillness, or in a space where your breath finally drops.

Let it come gently.
And when it does, allow yourself to feel it — not just name it.

Because feelings don’t live in our heads.
They live in our breath, our homes, and the way we move through life.

A Small JOYFUL Remembering Practice

This is not something to do perfectly.
It’s simply something to remember.

Choose a quiet moment — in your kitchen, your garden, or wherever your body feels most at ease.

Pause and place one hand on your chest.
Let your shoulders soften. No fixing, no changing.
Bring to mind a face that holds joy for you.
A child. A loved one. A moment of shared laughter.
Don’t analyse it — just see it.
Let the feeling arrive before the thought.
Notice where it lands in your body.
Your chest, your belly, your breath.
Breathe it in gently.
Imagine that feeling moving into the space around you — into your home, your rooms, your walls.
Whisper your chosen feeling — or simply feel it.
No promise. No declaration. Just remembering.