The One Word That Could Change EVERYTHING
For many, choosing a word of the year is a big deal—something to write down, display, and use as a guide in art journals, planners, and daily life. It’s a way to stay grounded and inspired. I don’t normally pick a word for the year because the few times I have tried, it’s been like me and challenges, not very successful. A goal I probably couldn’t achieve.
This year, I’m trying something different. Instead of treating my word as a challenge, I’m embracing it as a quiet intention—a mindset to guide me, not pressure me.
My word for the year is CONTINUE.
Why continue? Because life and creativity isn’t about perfection. It’s not about checking every box or completing every task. It’s about moving forward, no matter what. It’s about showing up, even when things don’t go as planned. It’s about keeping the thread alive, one day at a time.
It doesn’t matter if you have a big pile of unfinished projects gathering dust in the corner. It doesn’t matter if you never got around to starting that creative thing you swore you’d do last year, or if the stack of books on your nightstand keeps growing. Maybe there’s a stack of recipes you wanted to try but never did. Maybe those 10 pounds you wanted to lose are still with you. None of that matters. All that matters is that you continue. Continue to move forward, no matter how small the steps. Continue to work toward becoming a better version of yourself than you were the day before. For me, that means striving to be more kind (to others and to myself) in my everyday life.
But as an artist, it means so much more.
It means continuing to explore new ideas and try new techniques, even when they seem really hard. It means continuing to fail. Yes, FAIL. Because failure is the only way I learn and grow. Sometimes a better technique. Sometimes simply the resilience to keep going. Without failure, there’s no way for me to truly stretch beyond what I already know.
It means learning to cheer my own successes, no matter how small I think they are. Celebrating progress, hitting the finish line, or learning how to do something new feels good! It also means sharing those moments with others so they can see the joy in the journey and then encouraging them to celebrate their own wins. And just as importantly, it means extending that same support other artists, fostering a community where we uplift and inspire each other to keep going.
It means continuing to be brave enough to connect with galleries and curators, even when it’s uncomfortable or scary. Bravery isn’t about the absence of fear; it’s about feeling the fear and taking the leap anyway. It’s about sending that email, submitting that application, or walking into that room knowing the answer might be no more often than yes. It’s about reminding myself that every rejection is one step closer to an acceptance. Bravery is also being vulnerable enough to share my work and my journey, even when it feels deeply personal. And it’s about trusting that the effort matters, even if the results take time to show.
It means continuing to put my art out into the world, whether it’s in my shop, in exhibitions, or on social media, even if no one seems to notice or buy it.
During a recent storm of doubt (They come less often now but still they come) I asked my husband, “What if I keep making all this art, and nobody ever buys anything again? What if I spend all this money on expensive wool, and it just sits there?” The weight of those questions was HEAVY and I could feel the guilt bubbling up. It wasn’t just about the money (though that’s always there) it was about the value of my work, the purpose behind hours of stitching, and whether what I was doing truly mattered. (Spoiler – it does. So does whatever it is that you do.)
As always, he was my rock with his simple answer. “I don’t care. The only thing that matters to me is that it makes you happy to pick up a needle and stitch.” (He may have had to say that to me a few times before.) He cut through all the noise in my head and helped me remember the pure joy I feel when I lose myself in the rhythm of my work.
And that’s the heart of it, isn’t it? To continue is to honor the joy, the process, the small moments that make up a creative life. It’s not about the end result or how others perceive it. It’s about staying true to what lights you up inside.
So this year, I will continue. I will continue to try, to fail, to learn, and to grow. I will continue to take small steps forward, even when the path is unclear. I will continue to be brave enough to show up for myself and my art.
And maybe you can, too. Whatever you have in your unfinished piles of “maybe someday,” or “if only,” I invite you to continue. Not perfectly, not all at once, but in small, steady steps. Because as long as you continue, you’re already moving in the right direction.
Here’s to a year of continuing—for all of us.
With Heartfelt Thanks
I’m deeply grateful to have you alongside me on this artistic journey.
Your encouragement and support inspire my creativity and reinforce my belief in art’s power to connect us all.
Each message, share, and kind word has touched me more than I can express.
FREE SHIPPING IS BACK!
I have reopened my shop on my website and brought back FREE US SHIPPING
In addition to my Wildscapes I have temporarily restocked some of my older work.
Ah, Susan, you always have a way of capturing all the many dimensions of the artistic journey, and I love the philosophy behind your word of the year (and that your husband, the rock, reminded you of the meaning of joy). Happy new year to you!
Thank you, Megan. I know you are a lovely writer yourself and I am glad my words connected with you. May this be a happy and creative New Year for us both.
Thank you so much for sharing this for us, continuing is not always easy especially if you have a chronic illness as I also have. But continuing is what we must do and for me also losing myself in my stitched art projects gives me the headspace outside of my own head if that makes any sense. It allows me freedom from the thoughts and worries that plague me and being so hyper focused on a stitch, piece of thread or material gives me space. Space from oneself when you can’t always get around as you used to, it is hard being continuously with yourself so you need that space. So I guess my word is SPACE, allowing space for freedom of thought and action especially to do with my crafting. Giving myself space on the days I cannot do much to just be and space to enjoy all the things around me when I get out and about in nature. Thank you for letting us share your journey and being so honest which I feel is so important to us all. Joanne Piner 🇬🇧 ReePin Crafts 🪡🧵🧶
Oh Joanne! Sending you gentle hugs and hopes for the space you need. A chronic illness forces you to find a new way to live, a new normal. I’m glad your creative work can so sometimes give you that space to lose yourself. It’s so important for your sanity. Thank you for taking the time to read and the time to comment.