Oh, To Remember...

A Year-End Pause Before We Resolve, Reimagine, and Move Forward

There’s a poem by Lucille Clifton that has always stayed with me:

why some people be mad at me sometimes

they ask me to remember

but they want me to remember

their memories

and i keep on remembering

mine.

– Lucille Clifton

Mmm… That line feels especially alive for me as this year comes to a close.

There is something understated—almost radical—about remembering. Especially in a season that so often rushes us toward resolution. New goals. New words. New intentions. 

Don’t get me wrong… all of that has its place. And still, I find myself wondering:

• What is lost when we skip remembering?

• And what becomes possible when we do?

  
  

That poem also reminds me that remembering is an act of agency. An act of self-advocacy. A way of honoring our own humanity in the midst of so much noise, pressure, and expectation—especially the expectations of others.

Oh, to remember.

Oh, to remember.

As this year winds down and a new one emerges, I’m creating intentional pauses to do just that. The other day, one simple practice turned into something much deeper than I expected. I spent time revisiting the photos on my phone—moving month by month through 2025—sitting with the moments I once felt compelled to capture and keep.

And if I’m honest, what surfaced wasn’t just gratitude.

With many of those images came the broader context: what was happening emotionally, at home, in my work, in my body.

There was the moment itself—and then there was the story surrounding it. The good. The hard. The complicated. The unfinished. The tender. This process invited me to sit with all of it.

Oh, to remember.

Oh, to remember.

I’m choosing to make more space for this kind of remembering in the days ahead, and I want to invite you to consider doing the same. Not as an exercise in judgment or productivity, but as an offering of loving care to yourself.

Some questions you might hold gently:

• What am I remembering from this year?

• What lessons revealed themselves—slowly or suddenly?

• What seeds were planted, even if they haven’t bloomed yet?

• What moments still feel unresolved?

• What songs served as balm and psalm?

• What stretched me this year? What held me? What prayers were answered? 

• What am I ready to release once I allow myself to fully remember?

  
  

One thing I’m remembering clearly is that at the very beginning of this year, as I entered a coaching program I would later graduate from, I named myself as being in a season of remembering. I didn’t know then how that clarity would unfold—but I can see now how it shaped my work, my pace, and the love projects I’ve been able to nurture.

The Lineage & Legacy Recording Experience, and more recently the Lineage & Legacy Rememberings Deck, are both byproducts of that season. They were born from remembering—family stories, ancestral presence, music, moments of pause—and from a desire to create containers where others could do the same.

I’ll be sharing a short video below that offers more context, love, and story behind this work, along with an invitation to sit with these questions in your own way.

Before we resolve.

Before we set intentions.

Before we plan what’s next…

What must we remember?

What must I remember?

What must you remember?

They’re yours anyway.

Leadership as a L.O.V.E. Practice

Before the goals...

Before the planning...

Before the vision boards and intentions…

I invite you to practice remembering as a love practice.

This is not about productivity or performance. It’s about integrity—about honoring who you were, who you became, and what this year asked of you.

A Remembering Practice

• Create a Container. Choose a quiet space. Light a candle, play a playlist that feels grounding, or sit with something meaningful nearby. Let this be a moment of care. 

• Move through the year slowly. 

  Scroll through your photos, calendar, or journal—month by month. Notice what your body remembers before your mind explains.

• Name without judgment. As memories surface, ask yourself: 

  • What moments expanded me?

  • What stretched me?

  • What sustained me when things felt heavy?

  • Where did I act in alignment with my values?

  • Where did I learn something important about my limits or needs? 

• Discern what you’re carrying forward. 

  Remembering isn’t about holding onto everything. It’s about choosing—wisely and lovingly—what comes with you. 

• Release with intention. 

  Name one belief, expectation, or unfinished story you are ready to lay down. Offer it gratitude, then let it rest.

Liberated Love Notes

I give myself permission to RE-member. 

I recall and steward my story, my lessons, my unlearnings, my joys, my lows, my grief and my experiences with love and care.

Pausing to RE-member does not put me behind.

Pausing to RE-member allows me to move forward with wisdom and intention.

In the spirit of loving accountability,

Brittany Janay