Saturday Contemplation - A Year You’ll Never Get Back

This week’s Saturday Contemplation, A Year You’ll Never Get Back, sits with a simple truth: this year is over, regardless of how it went. Instead of turning toward regret or self-judgment, this reflection invites you to look back gently at how you spent the time you were given. What filled your days, what quietly shaped you, and what this past year reveals about the life you were actually living.

This contemplation is also the final release from the project this year. As the year comes to a close, it offers a moment to pause before rushing ahead, to acknowledge what’s been carried, and to consider how you want to meet the year to come. Wherever you find yourself listening, I hope this creates a little space to reflect, to breathe, and to mark the passing of another year. Wishing you a restful holiday season and a gentle start to the new year.

Starting in January, Saturday Contemplations will be fully moving to Substack to keep things cleaner and easier to follow. If you’d like to continue receiving these reflections, you can sign up at https://whenwedietalks.substack.com/

Chapters

• 0:00 Arriving And Grounding
• 0:38 Final Contemplation And Thanks
• 0:58 Substack Move Announcement
• 1:15 The Year Is Gone
• 2:01 Noticing Without Self‑Judgment
• 3:03 Living Incrementally And Mortality
• 4:14 Envisioning Next Year’s Feel
• 6:14 A Gentle Way Forward
• 7:40 Closing Breath And Parting Words

Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:01

Welcome back or welcome here if this is your first time. Wherever you're listening from, I'm really glad you're here. Before we get into anything, let's take a moment to arrive. Not just to this contemplation, but to the end of the year itself. Let your shoulders drop. Let your jaw unclench. Let your breath move in and out without trying to change it. Today might be busy or quiet or heavy in that end of year sort of way that's hard to name. But for the next few minutes, there's nowhere else you need to be. This is the last Saturday contemplation of the year and the last thing coming out of the podcast before we turn the page. If you've been listening along, thank you for being here. These contemplations have become a place to pause inside the larger project, and I don't take it lightly that you've made space for them. One quick note before we continue starting in 2026, these Saturday contemplations will be moving over to Substack, just to keep things cleaner and more contained. If you want to keep receiving them, you can head over there and sign up. That's all I'll say about that for now. Today's contemplation is called a year you'll never get back. It isn't about resolutions, it isn't about self-improvement, and it isn't about juggling how you spent the last 12 months. It's simply an invitation to slow down and sit with the truth that this year, however it went, is now behind us. There's a truth at the center of this contemplation. This year is gone. Not metaphorically, not symbolically, actually gone. You will never get it back. No amount of reflection will change what happened, no amount of regret will rewrite it, no amount of pride will preserve it. This year, with all of its ordinary days, unfinished conversations, quiet moments, missed chances, small joys, and private struggles has already slipped into memory. And that can be uncomfortable to sit with. So if you feel resistance here, that's normal. Recognize it. If you feel sadness or relief or numbness, that's normal too. And recognize that. Not through the lens of productivity, not through comparison, not through what you should have done. Just honestly. As you think back over the last 12 months, what stands out? Not the highlight reel you'd post, not the milestones, but the general feel of it. Where did your time actually go? What did your days mostly consist of? What took more of you than you expected? You don't need to have need answers, just notice what arises. And as you do, see if you can practice something incredibly rare. Looking without self-judgment. You did what you could with the energy, awareness, and circumstances you had at the time. That is not an excuse. It's just reality. Another question to sit with. What kind of life were you actually living this year? Not the life that you talked about, not the life you planned for later, the one you lived. Were you rushing? Were you waiting for something to change before you let yourself settle? Were you bracing for the next thing instead of being in the current one? Again, no fixing, no reframing, just noticing. Most of us don't live our lives deliberately. We live them incrementally. One week rolls into the next, habits repeat, patterns harden, and then suddenly a year is gone. This is where mortality enters the room. Because this year didn't just pass. It passed closer to the end of your life. However far away that end may be. That's not meant to be dramatic. It's just factual. Every year you live is a year you no longer have available. And while we don't know how many remain, we do know this. The number is finite. You didn't waste this year by struggling, you didn't waste it by resting, you didn't waste it by being unsure. But it is worth asking, without fear, whether you want the next year to look the same. As you sit here, consider this. If nothing significant changes, if you keep making the same small choices, keeping the same pace, responding to life in the same ways, where might you be one year from now? Not in detail, just in feeling. Would you feel fuller, more present, more honest, or would it feel familiar in a way that's a little heavy? This isn't a warning, it's just information. Now without rushing into goals, promises, or resolutions, let's turn towards the year ahead. You don't need to imagine a new version of yourself. Instead, ask something simple. How do I want to live inside my life this year? Not what you want to achieve, not what you want to fix, but how you want to be more patient, more honest, more willing to slow down, more willing to risk being seen. You don't need to decide that now or even today. Just notice what feels alive when you ask the question. If you'd like, you can make a very small internal commitment, one no one else needs to know about, not a resolution. Something like, I want to pay attention. I want to stop waiting for later. I want to live like my time matters because it does. Let it be simple enough that it doesn't scare you. Let it be kind. As we come to the end of this contemplation, let's take one breath together. In and out. Feel your body where it is. Feel the weight of the year you've just lived, and the openness of the one ahead. You don't need to make this year count. It already did, simply by being lived. The question now isn't how to redeem the past. It's how to show up honestly and perfectly for the time that's still yours. Thank you for taking the time for this moment. Thank you for being part of these contemplations this year. I'll see you on the other side of it. Have a good life.