Every year, as December winds down and the promise of January lingers on the horizon, I take time to reflect and choose a word. A single word to act as my compass, a touchstone for my intentions, and a lens through which I navigate the year ahead. It’s not just an exercise in mindfulness; it’s a conversation with myself and often with friends—those moments where we ponder what we hope to carry forward and what we wish to leave behind.
This year, the word came to me almost unbidden: Soar.
There’s something inherently powerful about the idea of soaring. It’s not just about rising above but about embracing freedom, perspective, and the ability to move with grace through the unseen currents of life. It’s about trusting the winds that lift you, navigating them with both focus and intuition. To soar is to see farther, to hold the vastness of possibility in view while remaining connected to the ground below.
The Reflection
I’ve been reflecting on what “soar” means to me, especially as I step into this new chapter. Last year, if I had chosen a word, it might have been “grounded.” My life then was about rebuilding, finding stability, and embracing the quiet strength that comes from standing still. This year feels different. There’s an energy, a pull, a readiness to take flight.
On Christmas Day, I rode the New River Trail—a familiar ritual in a year marked by over 1,400 miles on two wheels. As I pedaled along the path, I watched a red-tailed hawk glide effortlessly above the treetops. It was a sight that stopped me in my tracks. Hawks have always been a personal totem for me, symbols of vision, independence, and quiet strength. Their sharp cries and graceful movements have a way of anchoring me and lifting me all at once.
And yet, later that same day, I encountered something unexpected. Near my office on Ravine Street, just across from Holston Valley Hospital, I came upon a lifeless hawk lying in the middle of the road alongside a robin—predator and prey, their fates intertwined in a tragic moment. I stopped, gently moved them to the side, and stood there, struck by the strange and poetic irony.
The Irony of Flight
To see a hawk, the very symbol of soaring, grounded in such a way felt like a paradox. Was it a warning? A reminder of life’s fragility? Or perhaps something more mythical—a symbol of transformation, of the constant interplay between life and death, movement and stillness. In that moment, I felt the weight of the word I’d chosen, but also its complexity.
Soaring isn’t just about reaching great heights. It’s about embracing the risks of flight, the winds that shift unexpectedly, and the awareness that every ascent carries the potential for a fall. To soar is to live fully, to stretch beyond the limits of fear and embrace the unknown.
A Conscious and Unconscious Journey
Choosing a word each year isn’t always a conscious decision. Sometimes, it feels as though the word chooses me, emerging from the shadows of reflection, conversations with friends, or even the smallest moments of inspiration. “Soar” feels like that kind of word. It’s not just about my aspirations; it’s a dialogue with something deeper, something unconscious that’s been waiting to be named.
I’ve shared this word with friends, and our conversations have added layers of meaning. For some, it evokes freedom. For others, it speaks of resilience, of navigating life’s inevitable turbulence with grace. My friend Tracy responds with “Birds the Word.” That’s why I love her. It’s a word that resonates differently with each person, and yet it carries a universal truth: to soar is to strive, to trust, and to embrace the infinite potential of the skies above.
The Hope of Soaring
As I step into 2025, I carry the word “soar” not just as an aspiration, but as a reminder of the perspective I want to hold. To rise above the noise, to see the bigger picture, and to trust the winds beneath me. It’s about exploring new horizons, embracing adventure, and moving through life with a sense of purpose and possibility.
And so, I take this word with me, like the hawk that continues to fly in my mind’s eye—a symbol of hope, a guide through the unknown, and a quiet reminder that even in the moments of stillness, we are preparing to soar.
Here’s to 2025: a year of soaring, dreaming, and daring to rise.
And then there’s the traffic that could hit you in the middle of the road. Sometimes it helps to laugh to keep from crying.