An Offering for the New Year: a reflection on intention, ritual, and surrender by Lexie Wolf

From a young age, I was in love with New Year’s resolutions.

I loved the energy of the blank page.

The vision statement.

The plan of action.

For many years, those resolutions were almost entirely about my body – ugh. Around age thirteen, I absorbed the message—through the culture and from my parents—that I would be more acceptable if my body was smaller. From there, a whole constellation of self-improvement projects grew. Much of it was unhealthy. But some of it wasn’t all bad.

I don’t love this origin story. But I’m more than okay with how things unfolded from there. I am still learning to love myself as I am, and I’ve come a long way. At the same time, I still believe there is room to grow. That part of me hasn’t gone anywhere but it has softened and is aimed in different directions now.

Over time, the word resolution gave way to intention. Intention feels kinder. It leaves room for effort without punishment and for sincerity without perfection. It acknowledges that change is hard, and that mindset matters as much as action. In the word intention I find an invitation to loosen my grip on outcomes—to let go of the fruits of my actions, as the yogic path asks us to do. I’m glad that the culture at large – or at least our little corner of it – seems to talk about intentions a whole lot more than resolutions these days.

This year, though, the word that is coming forward for me is prayer.

For a long time, prayer carried a negative charge for me. It felt stodgy and narrow. Exclusively Judeo-Christian and organized religion. “I’m praying for you” sounds passive-aggressive, like “bless your heart.”

But it’s all in the intention and context, isn’t it?

Prayer has made its way back into my good graces. Prayer, I am discovering, is an act of surrender. Prayer says: I trust.

Prayer says: I can’t carry all of this.

Prayer says: I can’t even do my intentions alone.

Prayer asks for help—not just from the divine, but from community. From ritual. From being held.

Several weeks ago, a friend shared an idea for an upcoming Women’s Circle from a book about Shamanic practices: a prayer tree. A place to make our prayers tangible, visible. To hang them somewhere outside our bodies. To share them. The idea stayed with me. I’m looking forward to sharing a version of this ritual at our next circle.

This idea was also sitting quietly with me again last week as I attended an all-night prayer meeting on the Solstice, held in the tradition of the Native American Church. The prayers moved in many forms—whispered, sung, spoken, drummed. There was reverence for how we moved through the space, for the way the altar was set, for the elements. For food. For water. For medicine. For one another. For birth and for dissolution. For the Everything. I am so grateful for the opportunity to have experienced this powerful and sweet and multifaceted expression of prayer.

I was taught by one teacher to think of ritual as interactive prayer, and that’s exactly what it felt like: an immersion. A remembering. A way of saying yes and please and thank you with the whole body.

So this New Year, I offer prayer.

Prayer lives alongside my intentions and inside them.

Prayer names how deeply I want the suffering of this world to ease.

Prayer admits that I do not know the way forward.

Prayer says: I surrender to what is.