Wholeness – it’s my word for the new year.
Some years a word has served me better than a resolution. A word’s given guidance when I didn’t know where I was going, let alone what steps to take to get there. When the world keeps changing, or when I’m considering what’s important in a new phase of life, I often crave something more open-ended and spacious than a resolution.
Wholeness – that’s the word capturing my imagination lately. Kaitlin B. Curtice uses it in her book Living Resistance: An Indigenous Vision for Seeking Wholeness Every Day (Brazos Press, 2023).* I spent time with her writing last year, appreciating her reflections on how our communities often don’t encourage us to ask questions. She offers questioning, itself, as a practice of resistance to the status quo, a practice requiring people to wait “for an uncomfortably long time to come to any sort of conclusion about who we are or what sort of world we live in.”[1]
For me, the question of what sort of world we live in has felt even more crucial as the United States approaches inauguration day. I don’t want to stop asking about the nature of the world we live in and what it takes for all people to live whole and thriving lives in it. I’m also wanting to pay attention to how my own insides are handling this stressful cultural moment. I want to take time to ask myself what wholeness looks like in my days, what it takes to feel centered and grounded in my own life so I can offer whatever I have to offer as part of the human community.
To that point, I recently finished reading Dorcas Cheng-Tozun’s Social Justice for the Sensitive Soul: How to Change the World in Quiet Ways (Minneapolis: Broad Leaf Books, 2023).* I’m taking inspiration from her affirmations on the value of creative work in showing us what’s possible for this world.
Back in November, I had a conversation with my friend, Jen Midkiff, a talented singer-songwriter and harpist. We were discussing the many levels of pain our nation is experiencing and wondering how our creative work could offer a space of respite and encouragement. We ended up planning an event called “Boundaries and Authentic Living: An Afternoon of Spoken Word and Song” in collaboration with the good folks at Indy Reads. It’s scheduled for later this month. We’ll be exploring themes like boundaries, balance, and authenticity. I’ll give readings from my own work, and Jen will play original compositions for harp. It’s an experiment I’m looking forward to!
In fact, my 2025 holds several experiments that I’ll be eager to share when the time is right. I’ll spend time with short fiction (finishing a prequel to the Sacred Grounds novels) as well as work on my first fantasy novel. It feels especially right to take on the fantasy project for all the world building it requires. My ideas for it are already giving me a chance to reflect on power, political as well as religious, from different angles than my real-world reflections usually take.
My other 2025 experiment involves giving my blog space to evolve. I don’t know what to tell you to expect! I’m not making myself settle on anything at this point, and that freedom feels good. All the same, I do want to encourage my blog subscribers to also sign up for my monthly newsletter, which will do even more than share my blog posts. It will also offer updates on my latest books, reading recommendations, and free fiction including the new Sacred Grounds prequel novelette, which will be my gift to newsletter subscribers this spring. My blog subscribers won’t be automatically added to the newsletter, so please sign up specifically for the newsletter (below) if you’d like to receive it. I’d enjoy keeping in touch with you that way.
In the meantime, I’m wishing you an excellent start to your new year. Whether you’ve made a resolution, or chosen a guiding word, or are exploring the world in other ways, I’m wishing you much that is good and nurturing in 2025!
[1] Kaitlin B. Curtice, Living Resistance: An Indigenous Vision for Seeking Wholeness Every Day (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2023), 24.
Callie J. Smith 