Choosing an intention word, honouring what continues, and letting the year meet you.
MONTHLY REMINDERReader, you don’t have to reinvent yourself to begin again. There’s so much noise in January telling us to become someone else overnight. But real beginnings are often subtle. They build on who you already are, what you’ve already lived, and the wisdom you’re already carrying. This month invites you to begin again without erasing yourself; to let continuity be just as sacred as change. REFLECTION PROMPTS:
JANUARYS'S REFLECTION PROMPTIn January, I will honour what I’m already carrying forward by… Not everything needs to be left behind at the turn of the year. Some things deserve to be brought with you: the lessons that shaped you, the strength you didn’t realise you were building, the values that have quietly anchored you through change. January invites you to notice what is already alive and working within you, and to begin from there, with respect, gratitude, and (of course) intention. 2 QUOTES WORTH PONDERING
“We owe death a life.” REFLECTION PROMPTS:
2. Poet David Whyte on beginnings that are always available to us: “The beginning is always today.”
— from Crossing the Unknown Sea: Work as a Pilgrimage of Identity (2001) REFLECTION PROMPTS:
INTENTION WORDSThis month marks the beginning of a new body of work I’ve been holding quietly for some time. The Word That Finds You: Intention, Magic and the Power of Naming Your Year serves as an entry point into the essays, even though it sits later in the collection. It is the first essay being released from my forthcoming anthology, Daughter of the Soil. Over the coming months, I’ll be sharing the essays one by one, allowing each to stand on its own, to be read slowly, and to meet you where you are. This essay explores intention not as a goal or resolution, but as something we listen for. A word that arrives through experience, season, and truth. A word that shapes how we live, rather than what we try to achieve. Alongside the essay, I’m sharing my Intention Words Workbook— a reflective, foundational guide designed to support choosing and living an intention word in a grounded, embodied way. The workbook also includes an Intention Word Library — a curated collection of 250 words to explore. Not a list to choose from quickly, but a field of language to move through until a word meets you. This offering is an invitation to pause, reflect, and orient yourself gently, without urgency or performance. You can read the essay, and download the workbook and word library here. Move through it in your own time. There’s no right pace, no need to complete it all at once. Sometimes the word doesn’t reveal itself immediately. Sometimes it’s already been living with us quietly. NOW AVAILABLE
POPULAR IN DECEMBERPODCAST EPISODE 36: Are you in service or servitude? (a 2-minute listen)
YOUR MONTHLY BREAST CANCER REMINDERAs we enter a new year, I want to offer a gentle reminder to stay connected to your body. Knowing what’s normal for you, noticing changes, and checking your breasts regularly is a simple but powerful act of self-care. Early detection saves lives. You can learn the key signs and symptoms here . In August 2025 I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I shared openly about it on Instagram – the loss, grief, trauma, inner-healing and self-care that comes with it – and from that tender space I created what I needed most: a reflective journal to walk me through the first 30 days. 30 Days Through Breast Cancer is available as a free resource for anyone affected. Please feel welcome to pass it on to those who may need it. Thankfully my diagnosis was early, and my focus is on treatment, healing and deep listening to my body. You can find more about my journey and resources on my breast cancer page . SPOTIFY PLAYLISTSSoul-stirring. Empowering. Wholesome. This one’s for the moments when you remember who you are. A musical exhale—part prayer, part power, part poetic awakening. Let it carry you into the marrow of your truth, especially on days when you forget how luminous you’ve always been.
Griefy. A playlist for the ache that won’t be rushed. 'Griefy' is a tender companion for the days when your heart feels too full, too empty, or both at once. These songs don’t try to fix it—they sit with you in the softness, the silence, the sacred unraveling.
SUBSCRIBER RESOURCESRacial Trauma and Grief – Reflective Journal Who do you know would benefit from or appreciate this content? Be sure to share this muse-letter with them by forwarding on this email. USEFUL LINKSLet's stay connected. Here's where else you can find me: Website | Podcast | Blog | Instagram | Recommended Reading List* You can view the muse-letter archive here. Not yet subscribed? You can sign up to this muse-letter here. New to the mailing list? You can view the archive of the first few editions here. About this muse-letter: You're receiving this email because you've subscribed to my mailing list. You'll typically receive an email from me once a month. Rarely will I send stand-alone emails about promotions, new products or services, and partnerships. Affiliate links within my emails are marked with an asterisk (*). Update your subscription preferences: You can unsubscribe from 'Reflect with Rebecca-Monique', or manage your subscriber profile via the respective links below. |
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MONTHLY REMINDER Reader, you're allowed to arrive at the end of the year unfinished, unfolding, and enough. December has a way of tempting us into self-audit: tallying what we did or didn’t do, what bloomed or broke, what we held together or held onto. But you are not a project to be completed by year’s end. You’re a living, breathing becoming. Let this month soften the pressure to “wrap things up,” and instead invite you to meet yourself with gentleness. REFLECTION PROMPTS: Where am I...
MONTHLY REMINDER Reader, don’t be so hard on yourself. Even the river bends before it reaches the sea. We are often our own harshest critics, measuring ourselves against impossible standards or berating ourselves for mistakes. We forget that growth is rarely linear; that taking detours or pausing doesn’t mean failure. Just as the river bends and flows around rocks, so too can we move with gentleness, patience, and self-compassion on our journey. REFLECTION PROMPTS: In what ways am I being...
MONTHLY REMINDER Reader, you cannot use someone else's map to find yourself. Your path is your own: uncharted, winding, luminous in places only you can walk. Trust the turns, the pauses, the shortcuts and the long ways round. REFLECTION PROMPTS: Where in my life am I following someone else’s map instead of listening to my own compass? What landmarks of my journey (choices, values, turning points) remind me that this path is mine alone? How might I trust my inner navigation more fully this...