As the year draws to a close, I find myself returning not to a list of achievements or milestones, but to a single moment that stayed with me.
In 2025, Carla Bruni sang Let It Be.
She sang it for her husband, Nicolas Sarkozy, as he was preparing to go to prison.
What struck me was not the song itself, but the way it was offered. There was no performance in it. No defence. No attempt to soften reality or explain it away.
Just presence.
Just acceptance.
Just a quiet steadiness in the face of something deeply human and deeply difficult.
Years earlier , in 2012, i once questioned their relationship. Like many people, I judged it by the usual measures-speed, optics, difference, narrative. I remember a lovely French woman (someone i consider a mentor of mine) at the time offering a simple observation:
"No, no. This is a true love affair."
She didn't elaborate. She didn't argue. She simply knew.
At the time, I didn't fully understand what she was seeing. But in 2025, watching Carla Bruni sing Let It Be, i finally did.
She wasn't looking at the story.
She was looking at the calm.
Part of that calm comes from emotional resonance-the subtle way two people's inner states align. In such resonance, each stabilizes the other, creating a quiet space where tension eases, clarity emerges, and peace settles naturally. It's not about agreement or similarity, it's about attunement, about hearts and minds responding to each other in harmony.
The French woman was recognizing a particular kind of love-one that doesn't announce itself loudly, one that doesn't rely on symmetry or spectacle, one that steadies rather than excites. A love rooted in temperament and regulation, not drama.
So when Carla Bruni sang Let It Be to her husband, she was offering acceptance. And there is something quietly profound about acceptance.
Not the kind that gives up, but the kind that understands when to stop fighting reality. The kind that trusts that what is aligned doesn't require force, panic or pursuit. It arrives with clarity. With structure. With an internal sense of rightness.
Acceptance is not resignation.
It's alignment.
For me, alignment means trusting that what is meant for you will find its way to you-without stress, without chasing, without distortion. It means recognizing that the deepest forms of love, truth, and belonging often arrive quietly, and reveal themselves fully over time.
'Some truths take years to reveal themselves. And some wisdom, once offered, waits patiently for us to be ready to receive it."
As this year comes to a close, I invite you to pause and notice the moments that stayed with you-the quiet, steady, or unexpected experiences that revealed a deeper truth. What gestures, words, or insights carried meaning beyond the noise? What wisdom has patiently waited for you to recognize it? Take a moment to honour these reflections, and consider a word or quote that might guide you into the year ahead, helping you move with clarity, presence, and alignment.
