Matariki. Muharram. Financial year-end. And the men who made me pause.
And, just like that, that time of year has come around again. But this is not just any year-end.
In the space of a single week, three different calendars have intersected in not an insignificant way:
Matariki – the Māori New Year, a time for remembrance, reflection and renewal
Muharram – the start of the Islamic New Year, a moment to honour legacy and seek spiritual recalibration
Financial year-end – the more familiar cycle of auditing, closing off the books and forecasting for the year ahead.
This unlikely trio has had me reflecting on the same question in not quite three different languages, but certainly from three different perspectives:
What are you carrying forward and what are you leaving behind?
These questions are not new. I've referred to them previously when discussing the first step, Hover, in my Becoming Unapologetically You coaching framework. What made them really hit home now was because of two speakers I had the privilege of listening to this week.
Two speakers, two reminders
This past week, I had the privilege of listening to two men whose stories and backgrounds couldn't have been more different and yet they were both incredibly special. The similarity didn’t end there either because neither had all the answers. Instead, both had deeply wrestled with the questions life had thrown at them.
The first had lost 40 family members in the past year, including his own father and one of his revered mentors. His pain was still fresh, but his strength, grace and sense of perspective were immense. His talk could easily have revolved around his losses and his people's 70 plus years of suffering at the hands of a criminal regime. Not one of the audience would have criticised him for that. Instead, he spoke of tales of his father's bravery and quick-wit in facing unprecedented levels of discrimination and harassment. He spoke of his mentor's untiring efforts at resistance by way of the pen. He shared how he was often targeted by the occupying forces to eliminate his voice in the mainstream media. And, the sweetest irony of how popular his writings have become since being assassinated by said forces.
His stories reminded us how fragile and fleeting this life is. About how much we take for granted just by waking up, healthy, with a roof over our heads. But, over and above these deeper insights, the thing that really stuck with me was the triviality with which we treat our words, our voice. How easily, even without thinking, most of us are able to voice an opinion without fear of being targeted, let alone being assassinated.
The second speaker had walked a long, dark, winding road in the first two decades of his life. But somewhere along the way, he found light and has been walking toward it ever since. His story was less about perfection and more about persistence. Less about where he’d been and more about where he was now headed. Where the first speaker's past was riddled with loss, this man relished his past as a loss. He spoke of his past as his motivation to never return to it. And of the treasure he had found, one that many of us present hadn’t truly appreciated, even though it’s been sitting in the palms of our hands all our lives.
The kind of gratitude we forget to practice
Both men stirred something in me. Something that felt right for this season of reflection. Now I’ve always considered myself a grateful person. I say Alhamdulillah (All praise be to God) often. I try to appreciate life’s big blessings.
But these moments, these men's stories, reminded me of the kind of intentional gratitude I sometimes forget to practice:
Gratitude for what’s always been there. So much so that I’ve stopped noticing.
Gratitude not just for what’s gone right, but even for what’s challenged me to grow.
Gratitude that leads to action, not just sentiment.
Gratitude, in its truest form, isn’t passive. It’s deeply active. It invites us to reflect and also to realign.
And then there was the little matter of Financial year-end
In the business world, this time of year is all about reconciling accounts. Balancing the books. Reviewing budgets. Forecasting the next cycle.
These men's stories and the gratitude reflection they inspired took something as superficial as balancing a ledger to such a deep level. They made me wonder… What kind of personal audits do we do for ourselves, past and present?
? Do we check if our words, our voice have honoured our values?
? Do we consider what we've learned?
? Do we assess what our priorities really are?
? Do we assess where our time and energy have gone to? Do they align with our priorities?
? Do we ask whether the emotional and spiritual investments we’ve made are yielding growth?
? Do we check whether our spiritual activities have become mere rituals void of meaning?
Most organisations would never dream of closing a year without reviewing performance.
So why do we let entire seasons of life go by without pausing to ask:
“Am I still aligned with who I want to be?”
Why this matters now
The convergence of Matariki, Muharram and the financial year-end isn’t just a coincidence of calendars.
It’s a timely reminder that we are allowed and invited, perhaps, to:
Slow down
Take stock
Honour the journey
And recommit to what truly matters.
Whether it’s remembering those we’ve lost (like Matariki teaches us), or realigning with our spiritual compass (like Muharram encourages us) or measuring our efforts (as the financial year-end demands of us), this season has a message:
👉🏽 Don’t just carry on. Pause. Reflect. Reset. Realign.
Final thought: What’s in your audit?
As you close one year and open another, ask yourself:
What have I gained this past year?
What have I lost?
What habits or mindsets need to be left behind?
What do I want more of in the year ahead?
And most importantly:
Who do I want to be when the next “year-end” comes around?
Because, as the two men reminded me this week: We may not have all the answers, but we can ask life’s hardest questions of ourselves, before life does it for us.
👣 What about you?
What do you usually reflect on at this time of year - spiritually, personally or professionally?
What needs to be celebrated, released or renewed?
If this resonates, share it with someone who might be in need of their own quiet audit.
Photo credit: Hope Rammekwa
