A Year of Change see through the Lens of a Tree
There’s something quietly powerful about the days between Christmas and New Year.
A pause in the rhythm. A liminal space where one year gently loosens its grip and the next hasn’t quite arrived yet.
As 2025 gives way to 2026, I’ve found myself reflecting not through lists or resolutions, but through the image of a tree. In particular, through the Year Tree — a simple yet deeply meaningful reflective practice shared by Change in Nature, and shaped by the thoughtful work of Chloe Revill and Andy Raingold.
You can explore the Year Tree practice here:
https://www.changeinnature.org/the-year-tree
The Year Tree offers a gentle way of looking back and forward at the same time. It invites reflection on what has nourished us, who has supported us, what has strengthened us, what has challenged us, and what we’re ready to let go of as we step into a new season.
Rooted in Place, Held by People
As a coach in Mallorca, and more specifically a nature-based coach in Mallorca, this year has been one of both deep grounding and quiet uncertainty. Working closely with nature, and often in transitional spaces with others, can sometimes feel surprisingly lonely.
And yet, when I sit with my own Year Tree, what I notice most are the roots — the wide, living network of people and practices that have held me throughout the year.
I want to honour those roots here, while saying this clearly: no list can ever be complete. If you’re reading this and feeling a gentle maybe that includes me, then it probably does.
Alongside family, friends, and many other people — named and unnamed — who have been part of my Roots of the Year, I’ve been held by a wide and generous circle.
I’m deeply grateful to:
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Joe Hollis, for his clarity, encouragement, and shared excitement around where regenerative leadership might take us next, and for the sense that 2026 could be a year of building something meaningful together.
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Natalia Meroño, for her unswerving advice, kindness, and steady presence.
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Chloe Revill and Andy Raingold, for their humour, humanity, and for creating such a generous community through Change in Nature — and tools like the Year Tree that quietly help people make sense of their lives.
I’m equally thankful for the many clients I’ve had the privilege to work with this year — too many to name individually — whose trust, openness, and courage have shaped my work as a coach, facilitator, and mentor, and who have taught me as much as I hope I’ve offered in return.
People Who Have Shaped the Year
I also want to recognise:
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Horacio Alcalá, my first ever coaching client, whose belief and encouragement from the beginning helped bring this work into the world.
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Andrea James, for her calm insight and grounded perspective.
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James Farrell, for his unwavering commitment to coaching with nature and for nature.
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Elsa Selva, for her Wild Paths retreats and the depth, care, and embodiment she brings.
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Lexy Muscat, for co-facilitating my first ever retreat with such presence and trust.
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Christopher Kuntzsch, for being a quiet, steady, supportive voice in the background.
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Gail Martin-Mauser, for her remarkable ability to turn complex experiential and team work into something close to an art form.
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Carolina Paschalides, for supporting my first Action for Happiness course and reminding me that joy and kindness are practices we can choose.
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Whitney Ruzzi, for guiding my first experience of abstract painting outdoors — brush, body, landscape, and colour in conversation.
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And the Unpluggers, whose openness and trust made my first ever retreat possible.
Drawing the Year Tree
Alongside these words, there’s also an image that accompanies this reflection. One quiet afternoon, I gently picked up some watercolours and began to draw my own Year Tree. Nothing polished. Nothing perfect. Just colour, brush, paper, and time.
As I painted, I started writing down names — some near the roots, some along the trunk, some scattered like leaves — a few of the many people who have made a difference to my work this year. Very quickly, it became obvious that no page could ever hold them all. The act itself mattered more than completeness.
Most of all, that slow act brought me back to gratitude for my family — the steady presence beneath everything else, the soil and roots that quietly hold me.
What the Tree Has Taught Me
If the soil of the Year Tree asks what has nourished me, then relationships, daily time in nature, a sit-spot practice, listening more closely to my body, and living with the rhythms of Mallorca have fed me deeply this year.
The trunk speaks to inner compass and courage. This has been a year of learning that strength doesn’t always come from pushing forward. Often, it comes from slowing down enough to notice what wants to emerge.
The winds of challenge have been present too. Like any tree, I’ve felt moments of resistance and moments of bending. What I’ve learnt is that robustness isn’t about rigidity — it’s about standing firm while staying responsive.
The fruits of the year are easier to see in hindsight: my first retreat, the Action for Happiness course, outdoor cooking with my boys, my first photo shoot, and the growing confidence to step more fully into my work as a nature-based coach.
The branches point towards what’s next. As I look into 2026, I feel curious rather than certain — drawn towards forest bathing, cold water immersion, improv theatre, and practices that invite playfulness, presence, and embodiment.
And then there is letting go. One of my clearest learnings this year has been releasing rigidity — easing my grip on over-structure and trusting emergence instead.
Stepping Forward
At the heart of the tree sit our wishes. Mine are simple: a more regenerative world; deeper connection with nature and each other; and a sense of flourishing that comes not from doing more, but from needing less. Peace and health feel like the truest measures of a life well lived.
If you find yourself in this in-between space too, I warmly invite you to try the Year Tree — on your own or with loved ones. It’s a beautiful way to honour what has been, and to step gently into what’s coming next.
As one year fades and another begins, may we all feel a little more rooted, a little more open, and quietly ready for what wants to grow.
