Standing at the furthest shoreline of 2016 we gaze out onto the vast ocean of 2017. This great, sparkling unknown can be scary: it's hard to map out exactly where to go and what to achieve in the next twelve months. It’s also exciting: the new year shimmers as an infinity of possibilities, a blank canvas ready to be made into art.

The tradition of New Year's resolutions has for centuries attempted to direct the coming year in spite of its unknowns. We make resolutions in order to shape the new year to our own expectations; we set goals in order to make ourselves better people. More often than not, and despite our best intentions, our resolutions fail - or we fail them.

We bend down and try to scoop up some of the New Year's ocean in our cupped hands, but the sparkling droplets slip through our fingers.

I'm sure you'll have some experience of this - that pact you made to stop procrastinating and meet all your deadlines, or the goal of getting into shape by eating less and exercising more. The less-stressed, happier you that you aimed to see by June. Finally reading the pile of books that you've not yet had time for. These are all admirable and positive intentions - but in the rush of daily life, how many of them are achievable?

Lent terms begins, and you have more work than you thought you would. You miss the first deadline and power-write your first essay, shut in your room with sugary essay snacks. By June you're exhausted, ready to crash after May Week. Your birthday arrives in September and you receive more books: the pile has grown, not shrunk.

So at the nearest shoreline of 2017, we form our admirable resolutions. We bend down and try to scoop up some of the New Year's ocean in our cupped hands, but the sparkling droplets slip through our fingers. There is too much mystery in time's future to be able to pin down and guarantee achievement of all these grand expectations.

Yet with the new year, we still desire to start anew. With this in mind, my family has begun a new tradition: that of the New Year's Word.

As the first waves of January break, we each choose a word - just one word - that sums up who we want to be or how we want to live in the next twelve months. There are no rules with which word to pick: it can be the same word as previous years; it can be any type of word; its definition can change throughout the year.

Ditch the New Year's resolution!

My sister chose the word 'shine' a few years ago and has stuck with it since. She doesn't do anything specific with her word, but having it there encourages her to practise the things she's good at and to not be shy in sharing her skills.

I chose the word 'roots' last year, and reflected on what it means to have roots in something when you go through change - like leaving home for university. For me, this included what it means to have roots in God, and what prayer looks like in times of change or difficulty.

I'm not sure what I'll choose for 2017. I may stick with 'roots', or select another. 'Transition' is good for thinking about life after graduation, or I quite like 'curious' - I could spend the year cultivating curiosity in the world and my studies. Deciding to 'celebrate' the good times whenever they come is a good choice too.

Whatever I choose, the tradition of the New Year's Word has been invaluable. My word acts as a compass: as I journey across the year's ocean, I know that I can return to my word when things are foggy and I've lost sight of the opposite shore. Having a word, instead of a list of resolutions that I feel I must achieve no matter what, allows there to be both mystery and direction in the New Year. There is flexibility within the new start, and the sparkling ocean of 2017 feels like an adventure.

This may not be the case for everyone - some people prefer specific goals.  But if you want to try something new, have a think about what word you could choose. Adopt it for the next twelve months, and see where the journey takes you. Bon voyage