Routines, Journeys, and Yellow Daisies
I’m not one for reflections—or at least I didn’t use to be—but lately, I’ve felt this need to ponder life a little. Is it an age thing? But I’m not that old. I laugh at myself. This urge has been arising spontaneously, often while I’m doing mundane things. Depending on the moment and the circumstances, it can lead me to deeper, more prolonged thoughts or even to jot them down wherever I can. And this just happened during the morning walk I’m taking right now.
Yellow Daisies
Whenever I find myself by the sea, I take the chance to walk. Today, I notice that I’m instinctively heading north. (I amuse myself by wondering if my subconscious is trying to tell me something.) I love the beaches of the northern region, and by northern, I mean the farthest north of Portugal—those from Esposende upwards. These beaches, where both the water and the sand are colder, remain largely untouched, with rocks, dunes, and coarse sand. They exude raw essence, an uninhabited calm, and natural ruggedness. (Apologies to lovers of southern beaches, but when I visit them, I don’t feel them.)
And the scenery surrounding these nearly wild beaches? That area right there, beyond the sand, past the dunes—what do I see? Yellow daisies sprouting, their vibrant hues filling the brown tones of the wild vegetation. How I adore yellow daisies—so ordinary, yet they grow so spontaneously amidst the untamed plants, blooming at the end of December, at the end of another year.
This is where I feel the need to reflect on that oh-so-popular topic between Christmas and New Year’s: the year’s end. Many associate this reflection with something gloomy. In fact, I remember reading somewhere that studies confirm this association. But I’ll try not to let myself feel down during this chain of thoughts. To help, an idea strikes me: to find a spot that lifts my spirits. Just ahead, further north, there’s a pier.
Routines
I arrive at my chosen spot and settle at the very edge of the pier, where 360º around me is almost entirely sea. Its sound envelops me, only softened by the music I’m playing through my earphones. And so, what about 2024? I sift through the year’s events, the most striking feelings, and the most intense experiences. Insights start forming: it was a year of many routine changes. Indeed, this is the defining theme of my 2024: the shift in routines.
Some routines change due to circumstances beyond our control, usually unexpected ones—results of life’s natural course. In these instances, I adapted, much as I do to the seasons. Every winter, I grumble about the cold. I may not want it, but I have no choice but to endure it. Instead of light clothing, I must bundle up until spring arrives, bringing its milder temperatures.
Then come the habits restructured by events I deliberately set into motion—seeds I planted earlier, which later bore the desired fruit. These are the changes that arrive somewhat anticipated, pleasantly altering my routines. These prove to me that fighting for what we believe in and strive for is always worth it.
Journeys
But beyond routines, my mind also drifts to the journeys I’ve undertaken, the ones I’ve concluded, and the ones I’ve just begun. Of those I’ve traversed, some pushed me out of my comfort zone without my initiation, often evoking unpleasant feelings. But I went through them, and now, looking back, I see how much they helped me grow. As for those that brought me intense and positive emotions, all I can do is feel grateful for having lived them.
The ones I’ve closed? I think they’ve made room for others to begin. And the ones I’ve started? They’re meant to continue—to discover where they’ll lead. For that, I’ll follow them to the end.
And 2025?
As I sit here on the pier, the tide has risen, and the waves now crash harder against it. The sea is urging me to leave. It’s time to resume my walk, which is, after all, a journey—and, when I think about it, a relatively recent routine. But before I go, I want to dip my feet in the water and feel that “bone-chilling” sensation so typical of stepping into the icy waters of the northern beaches. It’s uncomfortable, but that intense feeling makes me feel alive—a good sensation within discomfort.
And what about 2025? Let it come like the yellow daisies, blooming spontaneously in winter and brightening the landscape.