This reflection continues a thread I began in The Silence That Changed Everything — a season shaped by listening, release, and becoming.
In numerology, 2025 is a 9 year. A year of completion, release, and quiet clearing. A year that invites listening rather than striving, and asks us to notice what is naturally falling away. As we move towards 2026, a 1 year of beginnings, I find myself less focused on what comes next and more attentive to the now and what is loosening its grip. Since early December, I’ve felt a subtle but unmistakable shift, not loud or dramatic, but a reorientation, as though something has been preparing to become.
For me, the most significant ending arrived less than twelve hours into the first day of 2025. Throughout Christmas, I had been sitting quietly with the sense that it was time to move on from an organisation I’d been immersed in for the past three years, learning and working. On New Year’s Day, I woke to an ultimatum that removed any lingering hesitation. What had already been releasing internally simply completed itself.
This ending took time to settle. I truly believed I’d found my tribe, people who spoke of freedom, sovereignty, and co-creating ways to heal not only individuals, but our beautiful world. Over time, however, it became clear that control outweighed collaboration. Decisions were tightly held, opportunities lost, and what might have become a thriving community slowly contracted. What remained I realised was not what I had been looking for.
One of the deeper lessons this period has brought me is the understanding that I cannot fix others. A difficult truth to embrace when you come from a family of fixers, and when your life’s work has been shaped around healing and easing suffering. I’ve also learned that I cannot tell people what they are not yet ready to hear, even when the knowing feels urgent. Healing – real healing I’ve learnt arises from within. Whether in a person or an organisation, the willingness to listen must come first. I can only offer support when it’s invited.
With that realisation came a turning inward. Instead of giving more, I chose to nourish myself. Rather than resurrect my coaching work, I decided to retire from it, at least for now. Slowing down has not always been comfortable, quite a challenge for a doer, but it has been necessary for my own healing to create space, to ground, to listen more deeply, to sit with myself, and to trust what is quietly forming beneath the surface.
Interestingly, I’m not receiving the familiar visions or inner knowings about the future. Many intuitives are saying the same, which gives me the sense that what lies ahead may not be something we can yet name. Having already explored some very deep and uncomfortable truths about this world, I now understand why so much has felt misaligned to me since childhood. I sense that my role is not to convince or awaken, but to be present, to listen, and to support others when they reach a point where they can no longer look away. I’m here when that moment arrives.
In this pause between endings and beginnings, I’ve returned to what nourishes me most. Long walks in nature with my little dog, Aya. Rekindling my love of photography and joining a local photography group. Reclaiming simple, grounding pleasures like gardening, knitting, and reading in place of television. I spent many hours mindfully painting my fence and little summer house. I’ve gone deeper into the Gene Keys and esoteric study, and begun learning about herbalism. This autumn has been rich with foraging, making healing syrups and tinctures, a jelly that refused to set but became a beautiful hawthorn syrup, and nourishing chutneys from home grown tomatoes and damsons gifted by a friend.
In late summer, I felt another quiet nudge, the call back to writing. I returned to a book I first began at a writers’ retreat in Hawaii in 2017. At the time, the visions that accompanied it didn’t fully make sense. Now, they do. Inspired by a Hay House writers’ boot camp, I joined their writers’ community, completed my first novel, and recently submitted it for one of their competitions.
Since early December, that sense of becoming has gathered momentum. In less than a month, I’ve completely redesigned my website. I’m halfway through writing the first part of Monia’s journey – one of the central characters in Daughters of Gaea. What I once believed would be a single book is already revealing itself as at least two. So far, more than 45,000 words have arrived, and the story continues to unfold rapidly.
I don’t know what 2026 will bring. What I do know is that writing will be central to it. A place of listening, remembering, and allowing what wants to emerge to do so. I feel quietly excited to see what reveals itself next.
Happy New Year — even if, for me, the true new year doesn’t begin until the Spring Equinox.
Some beginnings arrive not with certainty, but with listening and the willingness to let ourselves become.
Pam xx
If something within you recognises this threshold — the quiet pause between what has been and what is yet to come — trust that knowing. I’ll be here, listening, writing, and sharing as the path ahead slowly makes itself known.
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