It was August of 1996, somewhere deep in the forest outside Breckenridge, when I received a simple but profound lesson about not getting lost while hiking. I would later discover that this same advice applies beautifully to how we navigate our lives—especially as we look back and plan ahead.
I had been following my college boyfriend Brian for about 20 minutes into the woods. The geodesic dome his parents had built by hand had long since disappeared into the thick, shadowy pines.
“Do you know where we are?” he asked, glancing back at me with a confident smile that conveyed what I hoped for that he knew exactly where we were.
I hesitated, scanning the trees. “I feel like we’ve been here before, I'm not sure. Are we headed to a specific destination?” I was a guest in this wild place, and while these woods were familiar to him, they were vastly unknown to me. “Glad you’re leading!” I blurted out as a confession of my total dependence on him for survival.
The trails, if you could call them that, were hardly visible—no well-marked posts, no trodden paths. The only markers were a broken branch here and a small cairn of stones there, as if to say, “You are here. Remember this place.”
Brian scrambled up two massive boulders that looked pressed together like two fat men jammed in a doorway. Pine needles scattered as he climbed. He waved me up to join him.
When I reached his side, he pointed back the way we came. “It’s important to stop every now and then,” he said, “and look behind you. Take in the trail from this perspective—because, at some point, you’ll need to recognize it on your way home.”
I turned and looked. The landscape I thought I knew revealed itself in a new light. I noticed the graceful sweep of pine boughs we’d passed, wildflowers blooming defiantly in limited sunlight, and the steepness of the trail—something I hadn’t appreciated while climbing. The rock that jutted into the tree trunk, the narrow bend of the hillside—all of it seemed both familiar and newly visible.
“The trail really does look different from this angle,” I may have said, though my words felt pale compared to the lesson.
Brian’s advice was simple yet transformative: Pause to look back so you can move forward with clarity. That habit of stopping, observing, and reflecting became my compass—both on trails and in life.
Why Reflection Matters
As the year draws to a close, I invite you to pause on the trail of your life. Take this opportunity to look back on 2024. The simple act of reflecting reveals patterns, lessons, and surprises we might otherwise miss. It offers perspective on the highs, the lows, and the quiet stretches in between.
When we pause to look back, we notice synchronicities we didn’t see in the moment. We feel gratitude for struggles that forged resilience and for small, daily joys that made us come alive. This perspective gives us the clarity and wisdom to move forward with intention into the year ahead.
With hindsight as our guide, we can ask ourselves questions that help us anchor the lessons of the past and shape a vision for the future. Here are 10 thoughtful questions to bring to your journal as you close out 2024 and look toward 2025.
5 Questions to Reflect on 2024
What were the defining moments of this year—big or small—that shaped who you are today?
What challenges did you face, and how did you grow or adapt because of them?
Where did you experience the most joy, flow, or fulfillment? What were you doing, and who were you with?
What habits, patterns, or decisions held you back this year? What can you learn from them?
What are you most grateful for when you look back on 2024?
5 Questions to Vision for 2025
What do you most want to create, change, or experience in the year ahead?
What values will guide your decisions as you move forward into 2025?
If you could describe the coming year in one word or theme, what would it be? Why?
What habits or practices will you commit to that align with your vision for 2025?
Imagine yourself at the end of 2025. What will you be most proud of having accomplished or become?
Taking the Next Step
Reflection isn’t about dwelling on the past; it’s about learning from it. It’s about noticing where you’ve been so you can move forward with confidence, clarity, and intention.
So as you wrap up this year, carve out time for this practice. Find a quiet space, journal in hand, and take in the view—where you’ve been, where you are, and where you’re headed.
Like the faint markers in the forest, these moments of reflection can become touchstones that guide you forward, ensuring you don’t lose your way in the vast and beautiful landscape of your life.
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