Writers are always told, write small. It is not our job to provide the full picture but to pick something that resonates and builds from the smallest of details. Readers attach emotion and perception in their own time; our job is to provide the catch they latch onto.
In a year with no small moments, with too many per day in full honesty, how do we find the small? Is there anything that can even be classified as small within a year such as 2025?
I have struggled to write this year. It used to be easy. It flowed naturally. I have never had to look for the small, it found me anywhere. In meetings, cafes, at 1 am. The words have never been the issue. My brain simply cannot equate monumental occurrences to small ones.
A German phrase has been circling me for months, “mir raucht der kopf.” My head is smoking.
It feels safe to commensurate how my brain has felt all of 2025. Not to mention, is my nervous system even capable of trying to comprehend anymore developments? Trying to wrap a year like 2025 feels like being on fire with no water in sight. The saying fits.
In full transparency, the small is starting to feel like the wrong rule to be following. I no longer believe that as we move forward in years, within this disconnected world, that our job is to keep it small. Our job is to help, provide honest spaces – to give people something to compartmentalize their own thoughts on the world. Arguably, nothing about that is small or insignificant.
Historically as the world caves in, it is the artists that save us. The writers, painters, musicians, provide a way to maintain our humanity. We remember what it is like to feel joy and curiosity. Feelings far valued over hatred and malice towards others.
If 2025 should have taught us anything about the small, it is that our small is why we do this. You do not wake up every day looking for the breaking news headlines, the tragedies, the vitriol, the blame; you wake up every morning hoping for good. While it is a small concept in theory, it feels monolithic in scale this year.
The positive nihilist in me must admit that I do not hold much hope for 2026. In my usual contrarian fashion, I want others to maintain theirs. I want the dissonance of 2025 to fade when the countdown starts. I want joy to overwhelm as people yell for the new year’s bells. I want there to be small moments that can loom large in people’s thoughts and hearts. I want humanity to feel light, even if for just one day.
My only hope is that the loathsome feel many hold for 2025 gives us some aspiration for betterment in 2026. Closing this despairing year as a dark chapter that made us value the light.