Small Shifts for the New Year | Nature-Based Life Coach in Mallorca

View of the Tramuntana mountains

A gentle reflection from Mallorca

It’s early January here in Mallorca.

As I write, the winter light is soft and low. Outside the window, the mountains are still, and the birds are moving through the air with an ease that feels instructive — not rushing, not forcing a direction, simply responding to what’s there.

This feels like the right tone for the start of a year.

January often arrives with a lot of noise around New Year’s resolutions: big promises, bold intentions, sweeping plans to change everything at once. If you’ve made some, I genuinely wish you well.

And yet, both in my own life and through my work as a nature-based coach and life coach here on the island, I’ve come to trust a different approach. One that feels quieter, kinder — and ultimately more effective.

As a nature-based life coach in Mallorca, I often support people who are drawn to change, but unsure how to begin.

When I studied advanced behavioural change at University College London, one piece of learning really stayed with me. On average, it takes around 66 days for a new behaviour to become part of everyday life — even something simple like drinking more water, stretching when you wake up, or stepping outside for a short walk.

Change doesn’t tend to happen in one dramatic leap.

It happens through repetition. Through rhythm. Through small actions, returned to again and again.

This is why I’m increasingly drawn not to one grand intention for the year, but to many smaller ones. Not because they’re easier, but because they’re more realistic, more human — and more likely to take root.

Let curiosity, not “shoulds”, lead

One question I often find more helpful than “What should I change?” is this:

What am I curious about?

We’re far more likely to stay with an intention that genuinely interests us than one we feel we ought to do. Curiosity has its own momentum. It invites exploration rather than effort.

Small intentions might be things like:

  • getting outdoors a little more, even briefly

  • walking regularly in one familiar place

  • meeting a good friend for a gentle walk and conversation

  • taking a warm drink outside and sipping it slowly

  • tending a small patch of soil or garden

  • beginning a modest creative practice

  • learning something slowly, for interest rather than outcome

Individually, these are simple. Together, they quietly shape how life feels.

A word for the year: regeneration

This year, the word I’m holding is regeneration.

I don’t yet know exactly what that means in practice — and I’m comfortable with that. For me, it’s less a goal and more a direction of travel. A curiosity.

I’m interested in what it might mean to live just a little more regeneratively:

  1. choosing practices that restore rather than deplete

  2. spending more time in relationship with nature

  3. paying attention to energy — personal, social, environmental

  4. allowing space for rest, reflection, and renewal

None of this needs to be perfect or fully defined. It’s an exploration, not a prescription.

Small shifts towards a regenerative future

If regeneration is the direction, then small intentions are the way we move.

A slightly more regenerative future doesn’t arrive all at once. It’s shaped through everyday choices — how we walk, how we rest, how we relate, how we pay attention. Nature shows us this all the time. Nothing rushes, and yet everything changes.

One way I personally work with this is by naming a number of small intentions for the year — for example, 26 small things for 2026. Not as a checklist to complete, but as gentle touchstones to return to across the seasons. You might choose one word, a handful of intentions, or something else entirely. There’s no right way.

A seasonal rhythm

I also find it helpful to remember that different kinds of intentions belong to different seasons.

Winter invites reflection, warmth, and continuity.

Spring supports beginnings and tentative growth.

Summer brings embodiment, creativity, and presence.

Autumn offers harvest, sharing, and letting go.

Here in Mallorca, surrounded by mountains, sea, and long-held rhythms, this way of thinking feels natural. Nature doesn’t rush — and yet, everything unfolds.

A gentle invitation

So as this year opens, my invitation is a simple one.

Rather than one grand resolution, what if you chose a handful of small intentions?

Rather than striving to change everything, what if you stayed curious?

And if regeneration speaks to you — in whatever way — what small shifts might move you gently in that direction?

Be kind to yourself.

Let nature be a teacher.

Start small.

And whatever this year brings, I wish you well.

If you feel like it, I’d love to hear how you get on.

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A final note

If anything in this reflection has resonated — the idea of small shifts, seasonal intentions, or reconnecting more deeply with nature — you don’t have to explore it alone.

I work as a nature-based life coach, supporting people who are navigating change, seeking more clarity, or wanting to live in a way that feels more grounded and regenerative. I’m based here in Mallorca, and I also work online with people living on islands or further afield.

If you’re curious about nature-based coaching, or if you know someone who might benefit from it, feel free to get in touch. I’m always happy to offer a free 30-minute exploration session — a relaxed, no-obligation conversation to see whether it feels like a good fit.

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And whether or not we ever speak, I wish you a year of gentle steps, meaningful moments, and small shifts that really do add up.