Dear ones—

I taught a yoga class on January 1st, and the energy in the room was unmistakable.
Bright. Hopeful. Full of resolve.
The enthusiasm to embrace and follow through on New Year’s resolutions was palpable.

When I asked two weeks later about those resolutions, I was met with nervous laughter.

Year after year, it’s the same fizzled-out story. For me too.
If you find yourself in a similar boat, please give yourself grace.

I actually love the enthusiasm of resolutions—not because they’re realistic, but because they point us toward our desire. The New Year comes around and, whether we like it or not, it asks:

Tell me what you want, what you really, really want?
(Yes, I’m referencing the 90s phenom Spice Girls)

But what if resolutions have something else to offer us, beyond the jarring reality check of coming face to face with our limited capacity?

Take my invitation here and dig a little deeper, dear one.

Let’s take a common example:

“I’ll get in shape.”

Pause and ask: what would that give you if you got in shape?
“Then I’ll like what I see in the mirror.”
So—is liking what you see in the mirror the real intention?

Maybe it goes further:
“I’ll look hot—and honestly, it’ll feel like revenge on my ex.”
Q: Okay. Keep digging.
“I’d feel desirable. Powerful.”
Q: And what would that give you?
“I’d feel like I’m in the driver’s seat of my life.”

Ah. So maybe the true desire isn’t the gym at all—but agency.
Self-authorship.
Being at the wheel of your own becoming.

Another familiar one:

“I want a new job.”

Q: What would that give you?
“I’d make more money.”
Q: And what would that give you?
“I’d feel valued.”

So is the deeper desire not the job—but the experience of being seen, recognized, and resourced?

Sometimes the resolution is just the doorway.
The desire underneath is the room you actually want to inhabit.

I want to finish my Yoga Therapy School and The School of Breathwork.

Q: What would that give me?
A sense of completion—like I finally fulfilled my commitments.

Q: What would that be like?
I’d feel free of obligations and competent, like I don’t have to constantly prioritize between family, work, and school.

Q: What would that give me if I didn’t have to prioritize?
I’d feel less stressed, more at ease, and more available for my loved ones.

Q: And underneath that?
I’d feel like my life is no longer something I’m managing—but something I’m inhabiting.
My energy is no longer fragmented.
I can stand in my life without rushing ahead or falling behind.

Present.
Capable.
Here.

Ah there, I have it!

This is usually the moment where effort sneaks back in.
Okay—now what do I do?

This is where sankalpa comes in.

Sankalpa is often translated as “resolution,” but it’s not a goal and it’s not a demand. It’s a felt intention—one that arises from the deeper layer we just uncovered. Traditionally, it’s offered before yoga nidra, at the beginning of practice, or before savasana. It can also be gently repeated upon waking or before sleep—not to force anything, but to orient yourself.

By naming a sankalpa, you make the subconscious conscious. As Jung famously said, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will rule your life and you will call it fate.”

A sankalpa doesn’t make change happen.
It makes choice points visible.

Once it’s named, you begin to see—sometimes immediately—where capacity is present and where it isn’t. Not as a judgment, but as information. Frozen ground. Thin roots. Places that need time.

And this is where a little spellcraft helps.

Not spells as in forcing outcomes—but spells as in attention given shape.
Words, images, and sound have always been how humans orient toward what wants to emerge. The language of the subconscious.

We’ve already uncovered the desire beneath the desire.
Now we give it a language the body understands. A reminder of your ‘why’.

Some people are called by images.
Others by sound.
Most of us by both.

Let images find you—symbols, colors, textures, landscapes—that bypass explanation and land directly in the body. When something catches your breath or pulls you forward, that’s the signal. Collect what resonates. Let it live where your eyes pass often.

Let sound move you—not songs you like, but sounds that shift your state. Rhythms, tones, atmospheres that wake something ancient and capable inside you. Build a small bundle of these sounds and return to them when you need to remember who you are becoming.

Use your senses. These “spells” are doorways to your why. Feel into them. Find the delta between where you are and where you are headed. Let your inner compass motivate you, not outer shoulds.

Here is the sound of my resolutions:

🔉 Link to the playlist. Also Danit’s old album, most Jogging House albums (I know, unfortunate name choice, but give him a try!), and the sexy Puma Blue. 🐚

This is a short version of my visual spells: Full canvas here.

When intention comes from the deeper layer,
action stops feeling forced.

Let whatever’s true take its next honest step.
That’s enough.

Let your desires reveal themselves without demanding performance from them.

January is not meant to be a time of immediate action.
It’s winter. The ground is cold.
Seeds don’t push upward yet—they germinate in the dark.

Rather than forcing change at the arbitrary turn of the calendar, consider the Lunar New Year as a more natural moment of turning—one that follows cycles older than productivity culture. The time between now and then is a gestation period. A wintering. A listening.

The work is quiet now.
Underground.
But it’s real.

Give it winter.

With warmth,
Vanda

If something stirred as you read—
let it stay half-formed.

The dark knows how to hold what isn’t ready yet.

The work is quiet now. Underground. But it’s real. Give it winter.

With warmth,
Vanda

PS: zig-a-zig-haaa!