In numerology, 2026 is a Universal Year 1—the beginning of a brand-new nine-year cycle. It’s about fresh starts, bold action, leadership, independence, innovation, and stepping fully into your own life.
It’s the year that whispers, encourages… and sometimes propels you forward to, begin again.Which is fascinating timing, considering that 2025—the Universal Year 9—was all about endings, closure, and release.
And oh, did it deliver.In October, my husband Larry died. With his passing came the unraveling of everything I thought I knew about who I was, how my life was shaped, and what the future was supposed to look like. The past weeks and months have been a masterclass in grief, endurance, logistics, love, paperwork (an unreasonable amount of paperwork), tears, laughter, memory, and the quiet kind of bravery that shows up when there’s no alternative.
Recently, my daughter and I were talking about all that our family has been through—the loss, the change, the way grief doesn’t just break your heart… it rearranges your identity.
She shared a thought that absolutely stopped me.
She was describing how she was sharing with a friend how surreal life has recently felt and said she imagined herself standing in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection, thinking:“I don’t know who you are… but I’m going to brush your teeth.”
I laughed.
Then I cried.
Then I laughed again.Because if you’ve experienced profound loss, you know that moment. You recognize the face—but the person inside it feels unfamiliar. Changed. Weathered. Rewritten.And yet… the day still requires toothpaste.
That, my friends, is what a Year 1 actually looks like.
Not fireworks and vision boards on January 1st. Not instant clarity or a shiny reinvention. It looks like standing in front of the mirror, slightly fascinated by the stranger staring back, a little stunned, still grieving—and choosing to keep going anyway.
A Universal Year 1 doesn’t ask us to have a perfect plan. It asks us to take the lead in our own lives, even when we don’t feel particularly qualified for the role. It asks us to plant seeds when the ground still feels tender. It reminds us that rebirth doesn’t erase what came before—it grows because of it.
This year is about:
- Beginning again, without pretending nothing was lost
- Taking action, even when confidence hasn’t caught up yet
- Claiming independence—not because we wanted to, but because life insists
- Letting creativity and self-expression emerge from the cracks
- Becoming the “main character” of our own story, even when the plot took a brutal turn
Cynthia de Lorenzi in her happy place!
So here I am, stepping into 2026—changed, grieving, hopeful, uncertain, still deeply in love with a man who isn’t here, and slowly getting acquainted with the woman who is.
I may not fully recognize her yet.
But I’ll brush her teeth.
I’ll show up.
I’ll take one small, occasionally awkward step at a time.
And if this really is a Year 1, then action doesn’t have to be dramatic—it just has to be intentional. One choice. One boundary. One idea. One honest conversation. One quiet act of courage.
So if you’re standing in front of your own mirror now, tonight or in the morning wondering who you’ve become after all that life has handed you, know this: you don’t have to have it all figured out.
Just start where you are.
Introduce yourself to the woman in the mirror and brush her teeth.
Because if numerology teaches us anything, it’s this: what we begin now matters.
And I’m still here.
Beginning again.
Above is an altar, (ofrenda) for Larry, in keeping with New Mexican and Mexican tradition of Dia de los Muetros.
You can learn a bit more about this in an essay I wrote titled Good Grief, cynthiadelorenzi.com/single-post/good-grief
Find Cynthia’s work here: Cynthia.art