Finding joy in quieter celebrations

THE New Year doesn’t look the same anymore.

No big plans. No noise. No pressure to be anywhere other than where I am.

I used to ring in the New Year in the middle of big crowds and even bigger noises – everyone packed together, karaoke blasting non-stop, and firecrackers going off outside the house, like the louder it was, the more it counted.

Now, I am welcoming the year quietly. Just me, my family, and our five cats that cannot care less about the fireworks outside.

This year, the countdown happened while it was pouring outside, and we welcomed the New Year just sitting together.

Somehow, that made everything feel quieter – but it still felt just as real, maybe even more.

I live in a city known for its massive New Year’s fireworks at the Waterfront, so the festive mood is definitely there.

But these days, I would rather skip the crowds and the overstimulation.

I guess I’ve become kind of boring lately – or maybe I’ve just learned what I actually enjoy.

These days, I have grown to love small, intimate hangouts – with close friends, family, or even just familiar faces.

I like actually hearing the music, hearing people talk, being present, and not getting drowned out by fireworks or a hundred conversations happening at once.

The last time I spent New Year’s Eve outside my house was during the 2023 countdown, back when I lived in a dorm.

A few of us had a tiny sleepover in a college studio room, rewatching ‘KKN Desa Penari’ for the millionth time, counting down with a timer projected onto the wall.

Funny enough, that was also the year I realised something: sometimes, the best celebrations are the quiet, small ones with people you care about.

To me, a good intimate gathering feels warm and comfortable – the kind that makes you feel close to everyone in the room.

It’s not always easy to explain why some people prefer these kinds of gatherings. It’s not just about hating crowds or loud music.

There’s something deeper to it.

Maybe it’s because these moments feel more personal. Maybe they’re less draining.

Maybe they’re just ‘nicer’.

Or maybe it’s all of that – or none of it.

In a way, preferring smaller gatherings says a lot about a person.

It’s not a rule, but it often comes with appreciating simple things, valuing real connections, and being a little more emotionally aware.

I read ‘Happy Place’ by Emily Henry just before 2026 rolled in, and it was such a wonderful book – the kind that stays with you long after you have finished the last page.

There is a moment where the main character, Harriet, a surgeon in training, talks about how pottery became her escape.

For her, it’s a way to create something beautiful and meaningful, especially after growing up in a home that felt emotionally distant.

At one point, she says: “I want my life to be like – like making pottery. I want to enjoy it while it’s happening, not just for where it might get me eventually.”

I think that is what this phase of my life feels like.

Not chasing the biggest moments, and not rushing to make everything feel impressive or exciting.

Just letting things be, and actually enjoying them as they come.

What if finding joy in small things is just as meaningful as chasing big achievements?

What if slowing down and noticing little moments actually makes us happier?

I say this because I feel it myself.

Before New Year, we had Christmas. And honestly, Christmas doesn’t feel as magical as it did when we were kids.

I struggled to find that festive excitement I used to look forward to every year.

Maybe it’s because growing up comes with responsibilities that never really leave your mind.

Maybe the world feels more realistic now – and a little less magical.

But then I watched my nieces and nephews sitting on the floor at my grandfather’s house, their faces lighting up as they tore open their presents, squealing with excitement.

That night, when I got home, I opened my own gifts the same way.

I sat on the living room floor, opening them slowly, expectantly.

And for a moment, I felt that missing spark again.

That is when it hit me: maybe Christmas hasn’t changed – maybe we just grew up, and life got a little too serious along the way.

Since then, I’ve realised I don’t need big things to feel happy right now.

I just need to notice the small ones – the excitement of a simple gift, a quiet moment that feels warm, and the people who make me feel at ease.

You should try it too. Take a second to notice what brings you small pockets of joy day to day.

Maybe it’s seeing your family smile, the smell of fresh bread, an unexpected compliment, or your favourite song playing at just the right time.

They might seem small, but when you really notice them, they can shift your mood more than you expect.

At the end of the day, it is often the little things that make us feel okay again.

A small get-together. A few familiar faces. A real conversation without phones buzzing in the background.

Those moments have a way of grounding us.

When we put distractions aside and just be there, we feel lighter, more connected, and more ourselves.

It’s simple, but it makes a real difference.

Here’s to a ‘softer ‘year ahead – Happy New Year!

* The writer is a psychology graduate who enjoys sharing about how the human mind views the world. For feedback, email to [email protected].