And now we welcome the new year. Full of things that have never

When Rainer Maria Rilke declared, “And now we welcome the new year. Full of things that have never been,” he gave voice to the mystery of time and the eternal promise of renewal. In his words we hear the call to greet the new year not as a repetition of the old, but as a vessel brimming with possibilities, as yet unseen and unshaped. For every year carries with it not only the weight of what has passed, but the unborn potential of what may come—a field unplowed, awaiting the hand of the dreamer, the worker, and the seeker of truth.

The origin of this wisdom lies in Rilke’s life as a poet of profound sensitivity, one who gazed into the depth of existence and drew forth beauty even from sorrow. To him, time was not a prison, but a constant unfolding of the soul’s journey toward self-discovery. His reflection on the new year captures this spirit: that the unknown is not to be feared, but welcomed as a friend. Each dawn, each season, and especially each year, holds within it “things that have never been”—moments never lived before, chances never encountered, transformations never yet imagined.

History confirms this eternal truth. When Christopher Columbus set sail into unknown seas, the new year that awaited him was indeed full of things never before seen by his people—new lands, new horizons, new worlds. When Marie Curie pursued her experiments with radium, the new year ahead was filled with discoveries unseen in all history, shaping medicine and science for generations to come. These examples remind us that life continually births the unprecedented, and that the path of courage is to step into the unknown with trust and resolve.

Rilke’s words are also a call to hope. Too often, men and women drag the burdens of the past into the threshold of the future, believing that nothing will change, that the new year is but the old one wearing another mask. Yet he urges us to see differently: every year brings with it the chance for a new creation, a re-beginning. The river of time is not stagnant—it flows ever forward, carrying with it fresh waters that have never touched the earth before. To live wisely is to lift one’s gaze and welcome the untried, the unseen, the yet-to-be.

At its heart, this quote is a call to imagination and courage. The things that have never been will not reveal themselves to the fearful or the complacent; they must be brought forth by those willing to dream and act. The poet teaches us that the new year is not just a gift, but also a responsibility. It asks of us: What will you create? What new vision will you bring into the world? For though the year is full of things unseen, it is the human hand and heart that shape them into reality.

The lesson for all who hear is clear: enter the new year with openness, not with dread. See it as a canvas, blank and waiting for your brush. Do not bind it with the failures of the past, nor limit it with the smallness of yesterday’s imagination. Instead, embrace it with gratitude, faith, and resolve. Know that within its days lie new joys, new trials, new victories, and above all, the chance to become more fully yourself.

Practical wisdom follows: take time at the dawn of the year to reflect and to dream. Write down the hopes you hold, not only in the language of goals, but in the language of possibility—what kind of person will you become, what new experiences will you embrace, what seeds will you plant? Then step forward with action, knowing that each day is a page never written before, and you are both the author and the living story.

Thus let Rilke’s teaching be carried into the future: the new year is a gift of the unknown, full of things that have never been. Welcome it with courage. Welcome it with wonder. For it is in the embrace of the unseen that the soul grows, and in the shaping of the unknown that life itself becomes poetry.