Reflections after 26 Rotations
Small notes from a big year.
*Each year I spend the morning of my birthday scrolling through photos and notes from the year.. With each being so incredibly different I am glad i’ve made this small tradition a consistent piece of my time each year. These are my reflections on rotation 26.
To have a village, you need to be a villager.
Throughout this year, I was constantly reminded of the idea of “it takes a village.” I saw how relatively small groups of people could truly move mountains, rebuild ideas from base material, and show up in ways many would often doubt. In work, this is incredible. In life, it is necessary. This year, ironically, like so many of these past few years, was difficult but beautiful in the same breath. Most importantly because I was so often held up by the astonishingly graceful village of people I find myself surrounded by. Loved ones, friends, colleagues, and more supported me in ways never asked of them, but always provided. I like to believe I showed up as a villager to those groups, with hands open and, as my friend Steve says, “with the question of ‘how can I help?’ leading.” But I think growing up is also acknowledging how you sometimes fall short of being a villager, huddling in your room instead of showing up when the town bell calls. 2025 was also punctuated by moments like that for me. I am still thankful for the grace that so much of my community gave to me in those times.
Here’s to unlocking the door more often, and stepping out to the light.
A day is just a day, a year is just a year. (again.)
At my desk, I kept a collection of Post-it notes with reminders for when the anxiety crept in. One of them read, “Today is just a day, one of many.” They say getting older is an experience of time dilating. So often we sit back and say, “Where did all the time go?” breaking our understanding of that confusing notion into things more understandable, chapters, days, weeks, months, and years. My spiritual friends ask, “What season are you in?” But this year, I think the concept of days was more important to me than anything else. Having lost friends, seeing things change in such a rapid moment, and ending up on December 22, 2025 in such a different form of life than on December 22, 2024. These days are more than cherished moments, they are the making of ourselves over and over again.
Here’s to where all the time went.
Do the scary things, and do them often.
Each year I write these, I go back and look at my photo album of each year. This year, a total of 3,857 photos (excessive, I know). Scrolling through, I would find many moments, laughter, sighs of relief, and warm acknowledgments of the intensity of a year like this. A handful of pictures earned an audible, “Wow, yeah, that happened.” Releasing my 2nd book, Sunbreak, despite the real possibility of it living on my computer forever. Helping Dina, Rania, and the entire Kuo Sharper team create the next chapter of the Center, and pull together a brand, conference, and program bringing together hundreds of amazing people from across the world in such a short time. Finding the courage to step down from my role at MIT, return to the art world, joining my incredible team at The Lighthouse, and seeing the construction and opening of a 33,000 sqft pencil factory into a truly unique campus for creators. Each year recently has been littered with scary, soul-pushing moments, and this year was no different.
Here’s to the scary things, the ones that are often needed.
Bend towards the light.
I asked my friend what he thought this year seemed like for me. I’m biased to my own answers. What I didn’t expect was the response: “It seemed like the year of bending towards the light.” For reference, my friend is a botanist and loves to talk about how plants will always bend and stretch towards sunlight. This year was one of reaching, bending, and stretching in ways I both physically and mentally wasn’t always prepared for, but nonetheless thankful for. When deciding to pivot my whole life again, and move from Boston to New York, back into the art world full time, and into something entirely unknown, the phrase “bending towards the light” feels most accurate to that time. Sometimes we need to stretch past the things we think we are incapable of, but that our souls are leaning towards.
Here’s to bending towards the light.
How blessed are we to have such struggles in our lives? How grateful can we be to be tired from the things we get to do.
A professor of mine in college would remind us often: “Chase a life in which your problems are yours. No less are they problems, but at least you have ownership of them.” Reflection often leads to the question, “would you want it to be different?” Do I wish that I made some better decisions throughout this year? Yes. (see notation #1). But do I wish that this year was different, that the things I get to say are my struggles, were miraculously gone? I don’t think so. I am incredibly grateful for this beautiful mess of a year and all of the things connected to it.
Here’s to the struggles that are ours to champion.
9497 days, 312 months, 26 Rotations.
I wrote this letter from the kitchen of my parents’ home in California, where seven years ago I wrote my first reflections letter. This year, like so many of them, I call out in gratitude for the beautiful mosaic of moments that it created. Filled with flaws, celebrations, and life. I live in New York now. I still tell stories for a living, and am surrounded by some of the most incredible people this small part of history will ever get to know. I couldn’t be more thankful for another beautifully messy year.
Here’s to more to come.
Dare the Daring Dreams,
With love,
Donovan Alexander Beck.