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The Great January Fizzle

By the second week of January, most resolutions are already gasping for breath. The gym bag sits untouched in the hallway, kale wilts in the fridge, and the shiny new planner has one lonely page filled in. ‘Dry January’ has quietly become ‘slightly damp January.’ The annual ritual of self‑discipline collapses almost as quickly as it begins.


It’s a tradition in itself: the treadmill gathering dust, the unopened meditation app, the guilt creeping in. This cycle isn’t just personal, it’s cultural. Resolutions are framed as solitary battles: you against your cravings, your laziness, your body. Productivity becomes virtue, failure becomes shame.


But maybe the problem isn’t us. Maybe it’s the script we’ve inherited. Western resolutions are built on solitary battles of willpower, a colonial hangover that prizes control and productivity above joy and community. The empire’s obsession with discipline has seeped into our calendars, our diets, our leisure.


What if we swapped that script for something older, wiser, and far more fun? Heritage might just be the cheat code we need.


Intergenerational story telling. Credit: MULTIMEDIOSDS on Pixabay.com
Intergenerational story telling. Credit: MULTIMEDIOSDS on Pixabay.com

Across cultures, renewal looks very different. Instead of solitary battles, many heritage practices emphasise rhythm, community, and continuity. Elders have long guided seasonal rituals, passing down wisdom through oral tradition and spiritual practice rather than push notifications. Renewal happens around the table: community feasts and storytelling circles remind us that connection, laughter, and shared memory are far more nourishing than counting carbs.


And while the Gregorian calendar insists January 1st is the universal reset, heritage traditions know better; seasonal markers like solstices, harvest festivals, and lunar cycles have always offered multiple beginnings throughout the year.


Even the British financial year still echoes the older Julian calendar (named after Julius Cesar, dictator of Rome, who insisted it be used from 1 January 45 BCE) and starts on 6 April – just to be awkward. But that is another story...

These practices don’t collapse after two weeks, because they’re woven into the fabric of life itself. They don’t rely on guilt or willpower; they thrive on rhythm, accountability, and joy. They remind us that beginnings aren’t about control, they’re about continuity. And renewal isn’t a sprint to self‑discipline. It’s a cycle, a dance, a feast, a story that keeps unfolding.


Dance-mask used in Wanáragua (Johncanoe) Dance. Made by Garifuna, 1990s. Copyright: Trustees of the British Museum
Dance-mask used in Wanáragua (Johncanoe) Dance. Made by Garifuna, 1990s. Copyright: Trustees of the British Museum

In Jamaica, renewal bursts through the streets with the Jonkonnu masquerade, costumed dancers, pounding drums, and community joy that makes a treadmill look positively tragic. In St Lucia, the rival societies of La Woz and La Magwit remind us that identity and renewal are collective, sung and danced into being, with feasts that taste of memory rather than math. Though celebrated later in the year, they reflect how renewal and identity are tied to collective rituals, music, and storytelling.




Mari Lwyd Credit: R. fiend, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
Mari Lwyd Credit: R. fiend, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

And in Wales, the eerie‑joyful Mari Lwyd is undergoing a modern revival and has become an internet favourite. A horse’s skull was paraded from house to house, trading witty verses before sharing food and drink. A reminder that beginnings can be playful, communal, and rooted in centuries of tradition.


So what if we rewrote our resolutions with heritage as the guiding star?

Forget the soulless gym contracts. Join a dance circle instead, where sweat comes with laughter, rhythm … and no cancellation fees.


Toss out the calorie‑counting apps and cook ancestral recipes, where food is memory, story, and spice rather than math equations.


Ditch the productivity trackers and host oral history nights, measuring time in tales passed around the room instead of spreadsheets.


And why settle for “Dry January” when you could embrace Decolonial January? Less Empire, more joy, more community … more you.


Renewal doesn’t have to be about punishing yourself into productivity. It can be about remembering that joy, rhythm, and community are the real cheat codes for starting again.


Simone LaCorbiniere

January 2026



 
 
 

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