As we settle into the new year, I feel a deep sense of contentment as I look back on all that George and I accomplished during the second half of last year. Paired with a few recent developments, that reflection has also sparked a quiet excitement for what lies ahead. If you’ve been a longtime subscriber, you know that my Word of the Year post is always one of my favorites. I love fresh starts and new beginnings. I’m also someone who enjoys checking off a list and, dare I say it, setting goals. I keep an ongoing vision board, too. But the most pivotal practice I return to each year is choosing a single word to guide me.
Every year, I choose one word to shape how I move, create, and respond to whatever unfolds. Not a resolution. Not a rigid plan. Just one word that acts as both compass and reminder.
A word or theme can guide your year in a way that resolutions or even traditional goal-setting often can’t. Keeping your word visible, whether posted on a wall or pinned to the top of your Notes app, acts more like a lighthouse than a GPS. It gently guides you toward the life you want to live. Goal-setting, on the other hand, is more like a Maps app—efficient, directive, and sometimes barking at you to turn right in 100 feet. But what if there’s an even better destination waiting for you? That’s where a word of the year comes in.
Last year, my word was Persevere, to continue making an effort even when things are difficult. One of my biggest goals was to make our final major move back to the place George and I consider home, and perseverance played a central role in that journey. That word came to me while reading the autobiography Lovely One. You can read more about that here, but sometimes a word doesn’t need to be chosen—it simply arrives. This year, my word is Magnetic.
When the word Magnetic first buzzed in my ear, it felt almost too flashy like jazz hands waving for attention, so I brushed it aside. It felt audacious. But I also knew exactly why it had appeared. This year, I feel a strong desire to connect, both personally and professionally, with what is truly right for me. Instead of chasing goals, I want the right opportunities and the right people to be drawn toward me, and for that pull to feel mutual.
For a moment, I considered Alignment instead. It felt safer. More comfortable. Less bold. But just when I thought I had settled on it, Magnetic pulled me back in. Suddenly, it felt okay, necessary even, to choose a bigger word. Maybe this is the year to stop playing small, to stop being overly polite, to send a clear message to the Universe that I am ready for what’s meant for me. No more stretching (my 2023 word). No more persevering, at least not in the same way. It’s my time, and I’m done chasing.
I’m ready to attract what’s meant for me. I’m walking into this new year with open arms, grounded in the belief that what’s for you is for you. So instead of asking myself, How do I get chosen? I’m reframing the question: How do I show up as the person already worthy of being chosen? Magnetism begins there—with self-trust, clarity, and a willingness to be seen without over-explaining.
Magnetic invites me to slow down, refine, and let my work speak for itself. It reminds me that ease and ambition can coexist, and that the most powerful momentum doesn’t always need to shout, but it’s okay to shine.
x Tonya Parker

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