New Year, New Cake

Greetings from Maine!

It’s a beautiful January day, with brilliant blue skies, temps in the single digits, and a thick blanket of snow that makes our nights glow under the full moon. These are the moments for which wool was made, and I am both thankful for this miracle fiber and keenly aware of how much is at risk if we lose it. Every morning I don the layers and say my thanks before heading outside to fill the bird feeders.

Just before the clock struck midnight on December 31, I did what I’ve done for years. I cut sheets of paper into reasonably symmetrical rectangles. I retrieved my best Sharpie. I brought in wood and lit a big fire. And then I began to write down the words I wanted to banish before we closed the door on the year and stepped into a fresh new one. I asked friends far and wide to join in the ritual. They sent me their words, and, together, via the modern marvel of video, we watched them go poof.

Some people had painful words they needed to see disappear—like cancer, divorce, anxiety, debt, grief. I let the video run extra long on those, so that they could see every last flicker disappear. We had some shared words, too. Things like selfishness, cruelty, hubris, and greed. For the fun of it, I also wrote “polyester” on a sheet to watch it go poof, enjoying perhaps the only burning of polyester that didn’t result in toxic fumes.

Once the offending words had been exiled and the embers were almost out, I put the final paper into the fire—and just like that, the year 2025 itself went poof.

And now we’re already several days into the new year, with its curly twos and a nice big zero and squiggly six. As much as I love my year-end ritual, it has one failure. It doesn’t allow us to choose what we want to flourish in place of what we left behind. We’ve tossed last year’s cake and baked a new one, but it hasn’t been frosted yet.

Shall we do this together?

I’ll start by placing a generous dollop of forgiveness between the first two layers—by which I mean forgiveness of ourselves. It’s time to pull out those splinters and let ourselves heal. Then comes a big plop of acceptance before I place the final layer on top. Without accepting where we are now, we can’t plot our course forward, right? That’s like beginning a trip without putting your home address in the GPS.

Now that the layers are assembled, we’ll apply a crumb coat of empathy and let it set before slathering even more empathy over our now smooth, crumb-free surface. Shall we pipe some creativity and inspiration over the top, along with sprinkles of community? And around the base, I propose we bring in some special tips for our pastry tube: the petal for compassion, the star for strength, and the leaf for justice. After all, leaves support nearly all life within the plant. We want plenty of those.

And now, I hand the pastry bag and tips to you.

What else would you like to go on our cake this year? I invite you to share your words in the comments. Together, we can finish frosting this beautiful new creation. Then comes one final wish before blowing out the candles, helping ourselves to a generous slice, and starting the new year for real.