A World Re-Enchanted January 2026
The anticipation of the New Year has passed.
The clock struck midnight, fireworks filled the sky with color, sparkling cider was raised, kisses were exchanged—and then, quietly, the moment slipped away.
Resolutions were shared with enthusiasm: spoken aloud, posted across social media, and in many cases even begun. Yet as the weeks progressed, the magic, excitement, and optimism that briefly gripped the world began to fade. With each passing day, the familiar weight of “another year” settled back in.
And once again, a familiar phenomenon unfolded—one curiously bound to the number three.
In magical traditions, the number three is revered. It is a number of balance, power, and completion. In Freemasonry, it appears in the Three Great Lights, the Three Lesser Lights, the Three Degrees, and the Three Principal Tenets. In Tolkien spirituality, it shines through the Three Silmarils—objects of light, beauty, and tragic consequence.
Yet in the mundane world, the number three often carries a more somber meaning. We speak of tragedies occurring “in threes,” or, as is the case here, the third week of January.
By the third week of the new year, nearly 43% of New Year’s resolutions have already failed. By February, that number climbs to approximately 80%. As these failures accumulate, discouragement sets in. Resolutions quietly fade away, often accompanied by guilt, frustration, or a sense of personal inadequacy.
What is rarely acknowledged, however, is that this failure is not a moral or spiritual flaw—it is structural.
Decades of behavioral research have revealed a consistent pattern:
It takes approximately 45 days to break an old habit, and an additional 60 days for a new habit to become stable and automatic.
When viewed through this lens, a startling truth emerges: the traditional New Year’s resolution is fundamentally flawed. It asks for immediate transformation without honoring how human behavior actually changes.
Faced with this realization, we are left with two choices.
We can abandon the tradition entirely—or we can re-enchant it.
It is the second path I wish to explore, because it lies at the heart of reclaiming agency, restoring meaning, and reshaping not only ourselves, but the reality we inhabit.
From Resolutions to Living Goals
Rather than treating January as a make-or-break proving ground, consider using January—and even February—as planning and alignment months. Instead of a rigid resolution, shift toward a single, living goal that unfolds slowly across the year.
My own practice is to choose a single word near the end of December—one that becomes the thematic compass for the year ahead. Last year, my word was Alignment.
January was devoted not to execution, but to discernment:
What needed alignment?
Where was I already aligned?
What would alignment actually look like in practice?
From there, I mapped small, realistic actions across the months. This can be as simple or as detailed as you wish, but the key is that the plan becomes visible and tangible.
Tools such as ChatGPT, Gemini, or Pi can be invaluable allies in this process, helping to outline monthly focuses or generate ideas. The method itself matters less than committing to the act of creation and giving the goal form.
Rather than declaring, “I will go to the gym three times a week for the entire year,” begin with something sustainable: once a week. Allow yourself time to acclimate—to the environment, the rhythm, and the identity shift.
In later months, introduce new exercises. After three or four months, add a second day. By the end of the year, you may naturally arrive at three days a week—not through force, but through integration.
This principle applies equally to magical practice and mundane life. When change is gradual, it becomes enduring.
To really complete the process once you have your selected word for the coming year here is a short Tolkien style incantation that can be used.
I name this word not as a thought only, nor as a sound upon the air,
but as a way set before my feet.
Let it be planted in the soil of my choosing,
and let its branches be known in the unfolding of my days.
By the craft of Aulë the Maker,
let my deeds be wrought with patience,
tempered by endurance,
and shaped with care befitting things that are meant to last.
By the wisdom of Manwë, Elder King,
let my purpose stand unclouded,
steadfast amid change,
and true to the higher airs from which it is discerned.
By the light of Varda Elentári,
Queen of the Stars,
let this word abide in memory
when I wander from myself
and forget the road I have sworn to walk.
I lay aside the hunger for haste.
I yield to the slow labor of time.
For this word is not fulfilled by speech alone—
it lives, because I live it.
Monthly Correspondence – January
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Full Moon: Isilnarvinyë — Moon of the New Fire (the Returning Sun)
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Vala: Aulë
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Holidays: None
What Comes Next for This Column
Over the past year, this column explored the foundational elements of Tolkien spirituality—the Valar, lunar rhythms, and sacred observances. As I reflected during meditation on the direction of the coming year, it became clear that while these correspondences will remain present, they will no longer be the central focus.
Going forward, each month will center on a mundane, everyday activity—cooking, cleaning, walking, reading, or other ordinary tasks—and explore how the various peoples of Tolkien’s legendarium might have approached them as acts of meaning rather than obligation.
We will introduce simple incantations and contemplative practices designed to transform the ordinary into the enchanted.
Too often, I encounter the mistaken belief that magic requires constant ritual performance—monthly cinnamon blows, elaborate full-moon workings, or hours spent before an altar. When life interrupts these practices, people feel as though they have failed or become disconnected from their magic.
The truth is that while such rites have their place, they are not the heart of the Work.
The deepest magic is found in the everyday—too often overlooked, rarely written about, yet profoundly powerful. Preparing food, tending a home, walking with awareness—these are acts through which enchantment is sustained.
That is where our focus will lie in the coming year.
Next Month – February
We will begin with daily chores, examining how they can be transformed from burdens into quiet rituals of presence and intention. It may seem unexpected—but stay with me. There is more magic here than first appears.
I have deeply enjoyed this past year, and I look forward to continuing this journey together as we rediscover—
A World Re-Enchanted.
About the Author
I am the President of Way of Arda’s Lore, a Tolkien-based spiritual organization legally registered in the United States as a church. I am a husband and father, a long-time practitioner of the occult, and a Freemason of sixteen years, affiliated with Blue Lodge, Scottish Rite, and York Rite bodies. I am also a practitioner of Dragon Magick and the owner of Mystical Source, a metaphysical business.
Above all, I strive each day to learn something new—and to recognize the magic woven into the world around us.
