We need to talk about Spring rituals

I’m sitting on the floor of our spare room surrounded by stuff. Boxes and bags.

Some of the things are mine because I bought them. Some were given to me.

Some hold great intentions, for example, the water filter, which I was convinced would change my mineral intake. It‘s been sitting in a large white box in our hallway for the past 15 months, gathering both dust and growing guilt.

👋 Quick head’s up, your free Spring PDF is linked at the end, don’t forget to download it.

I discovered expired flour in the back of the pantry. A pair of unworn, not well-fitting shoes in a box, hiding behind our suitcases.

And then there is baby Jesus, an ochre-coloured Christmas tree wax figure ornament. Gifted by my aunt and once owned by my beloved great-aunt, the woman who was the first in our lineage to have a career (teacher) and became the cool aunt of my mum’s genration and the old, meticulously dressed lady for my cousins and me.

The issue is that the little man looks slightly creepy. While looking at him, the seemingly sleeping wax figure in the palm of my hand, I mumble, “I was entrusted with you; I guess I cannot secretly put you up for adoption at the spring fair.”

There’s also my childhood stamp collection. As kids, we’d spend hours soaking stamps off envelopes, pressing and arranging them in our fake leather albums. Occasionally, we’d go to weekend markets where collectors in their 60s trade stamps and chat. Back then, it was my whole world. Now it’s just stamps, 6 albums to be exact, and fading memories.

SO why am I sitting here, surrounded by all these objects?

It’s time for spring cleaning, cleansing and calling in my wildest dreams once again, following the inclination to turn spaces, big and small, upside down. Time for tidying, grief resurfacing, cherishing memories, and asking ourselves honestly: what life are we building, and what belongs to a closed chapter and to an old version of us we no longer embody?

What does future me still need, want and enjoy, really?

It may be one of the oldest spring practices that trigger happiness and allow new intentions to grow in every human being. I promise that, while it doesn't sound super sexy, it really does bring the needed endorphins!

Almost every culture on earth has a version of a spring ritual; awakened by a restless, roll-up-your-sleeves feeling that arrives with longer days, later sunsets and dust dancing in the fresh spring air.

Everyone knows we need to make space before new seeds can grow.

I’m married to an Iranian, and if you know any Iranian, you‘ll know that they seemingly invented everything. 😉 Obviously, the oldest civilisation on Earth! They take great pride in their heritage and immense contributions to humanity.1 For Nowruz (New Day, aka New Year), we “shake the house” (khane tekani) to prepare for the Spring Equinox and the new year beginning with Spring.

We want to sweep out every corner, wipe every surface to renew our homes before life begins anew. My Jewish family friends do the same in their Passover preparations. In China, there is a version for the new start of the year, too.

Here in the German Alpine region, we traditionally clean our homes to cleanse them of sickness, ghosts, and bad luck that have stuck to them over winter.

Across centuries and cultures, spring has always been the season when humans release what winter has accumulated and make room for what comes next.

Free PDF for your Spring Practice

Every weekend in March, I’ve been tackling a single corner or space at a time to avoid overwhelming myself and to ensure I see results fast. Everyone needs motivational boosts, and I have Nowruz, the Spring Equinox (March 20th), as my soft deadline.

From the bathroom cabinet to the built-in storage in the hallway. The bookshelf in the living room and the under-sink kitchen chaos. I’ve been very deliberate about the whole thing to build momentum. To free myself from the weight of owning stuff my future self neither wants nor needs.

Like yourself, I have a busy mind and an active life.

And I realised that even hidden chaos at home haunts me. On work trips, I think about the messy drawers and wonder, while on the beach in Thailand, where my mum’s glass Easter eggs are, the ones I want to hang up soon. Like I’m carrying weight on my shoulders, well, actually it feels like dragging a long and heavy tail behind me.

Even without excessive material possessions, I realised how my home is my mirror. A busy, cluttered mind causes a cluttered flat, or vice versa? I know for a fact that when my home is peaceful, I am more relaxed too.

I have huge plans for 2026, bold dreams. Hope! I want my home to reflect that, bringing joy and not demand complicated daily maintenance.

And with all my heart, I know, I really know, that I cannot receive what I’m calling in, cannot become who I want to be, while I’m still crowded with everything that belongs to who I used to be.

My home is not just where I live. It’s my living, breathing vision board. For magic to find corners and nooks to feel at home. A space intentionally put together, and lived in and full of potential, room for life to unfold. It’s a living expression of where we’re at and the place where we create our future selves.

Am I keeping this because it belongs in my life right now, or because I feel I owe it to someone who is no longer here to ask or return it to?

Am I keeping this for who I am now or for a future version of myself I’m no longer sure I’m still becoming?

I don’t think that the realisation that things we bought no longer serve us is a failure. Those realisations are evidence of us living, of being alive, of making mistakes, of changing and evolving. Yet, at some point, we have to decide whether to keep carrying them with us, from corner to corner, maybe even to a new home.

With self-bought stuff its easier. The inherited or gifted objects, the entrusted ones, are harder to depart from. They really ask us to open our hearts and be frank with ourselves, and maybe with our living relatives, too.

Are we keeping something out of obligation or out of love?

Both are valid, the first more loaded, of course. There’s a time for everything. But knowing which one is driving the decision matters.

The wax baby Jesus is still next to me, sleeping weirdly with open eyes. Truthfully, I haven’t decided yet what to do. Maybe I’ll hide him in the Christmas box to postpone a decision. A classic decision delaying brain trick. Either way, reflecting and asking questions honestly, maybe for the first time, is the path to meeting your new 2026 self.

And yet, in the end, shedding tears of grief or joy in the process of clearing, cleaning and cleansing are both welcome. Spring is as much about life as it is about death.

Renewal and release.

This season asks us to look at both. To grieve what we’re releasing, even the small things. And enjoy the space we’re creating.

Maybe you have your own stamp collection, water filter or baby Jesus that you want to ask the important question of ownership or release… Sometimes the things we’ve regularly tripping over because they’re always in the way, are actually the things we haven’t been ready to look at yet.

You may know the Seasonal Companions already, the Free Autumn Edition and the Winter version here. I’ve put together a 15-page Spring Edition for free

Access the Free Spring resource

In my own process, I realised it’s not about the objects I release alone. Really, it’s about walking into the new season with a home and an inner world that actually reflect who we are now, and grow towards to this year. Not who we were. Not who we thought we’d be by now.

Hi, if you’re new here - I’m an Experience Designer, certified Coach / Mentor, and Writer exploring wellbeing, creativity, and (self-)leadership. I create Seasonal Companions that guide women toward rest, reflection, and embodied connection through the year, uncovering their Red Thread that connects all chapters of life. Words and work where wisdom and science meet. I work in tech and live a conscious, joyful life. Both are possible. Subscribe and read more about my work and me here