Across the Oceans, Old Traditions Greet the New Year

It is January 1st, 2026. Wow!

Everything has passed so fast. I look at the life I have lived here, in Canada, for the past 35 years, and it rushes in front of my eyes as if I were watching a video on fast-forward.

Then, I look farther back, at the 25 or 26 years I lived in Brazil before coming here. Those memories pass in front of me a little more slowly. The friendships forged over many years, as we grew and matured together, are still alive—just the same as always.

I question myself, question the decisions I made over the years, and the important decisions yet to be made.

What a ride!

Art by Orádia NC Porciúncula - Deviant Art

And then, I look at now. The whole world starts this new year of 2026 in pretty much the same way: with drones putting on light shows in the sky, AI creating holiday cards, human-like robots being made faster than I ever imagined possible, and Canada in a “tug-of-war” with the USA.

However, not all is the same in the world when it comes to New Year’s Eve celebrations and traditions.

While it’s been snowing since November in this corner of Canada, with only a few breaks here and there, down in Brazil it's been hot, and New Year’s Eve is celebrated in a very special way along the shores of the country, particularly in Rio de Janeiro.

Last night, right where my family home is located, people walked out of their own homes toward the beach—adults and children, of all religious denominations—all dressed in white, to break the new year by the water and watch the fireworks. But, most importantly, they went to ask for blessings from Yemaya (Iemanjá), the Orixa Queen of the Oceans, to pay respect, and to ask the Orixas for a prosperous year.

A common ritual among those who follow the spiritist Afro-Brazilian religion, Umbanda—but also among non-spiritists. Catholics, Protestants, Jewish — they all do it. No matter how incongruent it may be. In fact, this is where and when a kind of cognitive dissonance is most clearly present.

White roses and white dahlias are thrown into the waters as an offering to Yemaya. Many jump over seven small ocean waves—part of this ritualistic event.

The act of jumping over seven waves is a ritual related to asking for blessings and protection for the new year. The number seven has a special meaning in the religion, representing the Seven Lines of Umbanda, which are understood as the seven senses of life, or the seven qualities of God reflected in the orixás: Oxalá, Oxum, Oxóssi, Xangô, Ogum, Obaluaiê, and Iemanjá.

Each jump symbolizes a thank-you, or a request, to an entity for the coming year. In addition, the number seven—considered cabalistic—is also associated with Exu, an entity linked to financial prosperity and opportunities.

I look at this phenomenon that happens every year, just a couple of blocks away from my apartment down there, and I can’t help but miss it.

So, in the quietness of my own home here in Canada, thousands of miles away, across oceans and rivers, I try to follow tradition—I dress in clean white clothing and say my prayers.

Maybe, somewhere in the beautiful waves of my favorite ocean, Yemaya is seeing and hearing me and, hopefully, acknowledging what my spirit has tried to release, along with my hope that she will grant my humble request—sending her blessings toward me in a glittering, ethereal wave carried across time and space.