Nengajō: The Japanese Art of Intentional New Year Messages

Americans send holiday cards in December. The Japanese send nengajō in January.
That timing difference changes everything.
What Are Nengajō?
Nengajō (年賀状) are Japanese New Year postcards, but they're not just festive greetings. They're intentional messages sent to people who matter—family, friends, mentors, colleagues you want to stay connected with.
Traditionally, nengajō are mailed in late December to arrive on January 1st. The Japanese postal service even holds them and delivers them all on New Year's Day, so everyone receives their cards at once.
But the practice isn't about perfect timing. It's about taking a moment to acknowledge specific people in your life with something more thoughtful than "Happy Holidays."
The History Behind the Practice
As we explored in our post about Shōgatsu traditions, the Japanese New Year is a time of renewal and reflection.The tradition of nengajō dates back to the Heian period (794-1185), when Japanese nobility would send handwritten New Year greetings to people they couldn't visit in person. Originally, these were formal letters delivered by servants—a way to maintain social connections across distances.
By the Edo period (1603-1868), the practice had spread beyond the aristocracy. As literacy rates increased and the postal system developed, ordinary people began sending New Year greetings too. The format shifted from letters to postcards, making them more accessible and affordable.
The modern nengajō system emerged in 1873 when Japan introduced postal cards. The tradition became democratized—anyone could participate, not just the wealthy. By the early 20th century, sending nengajō had become a national custom, with millions of cards flooding the postal system every December.
What started as an aristocratic formality became a genuine folk tradition. And unlike many customs that fade with modernization, nengajō adapted. The medium changed (postcards, then digital), but the core intention remained: acknowledge the people who matter as a new year begins.
Why They're Different from Holiday Cards
Western holiday cards are often mass-produced, signed quickly, and sent to everyone on a list. The message is generic. The timing is rushed. You send them because you're supposed to.
Nengajō are different. You write them after the holiday chaos ends. You have time to think about what you want to say. The message isn't "Merry Christmas and best wishes" sent to 100 people. It's a specific acknowledgment of the past year and hopes for the one ahead, sent to the people you actually want to maintain connection with.
Japanese tradition suggests you send nengajō to people you haven't seen recently—it's a way to maintain relationships without demanding anything in return. Just: I'm thinking of you. The year is starting. I wanted you to know you're still in my life.
What to Write
Nengajō aren't long. A few sentences is enough:
Traditional structure:
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Acknowledge the new year
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Express gratitude for the past year's connection
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Wish them well for the year ahead
Example: "As we begin 2026, I wanted to thank you for your friendship this past year. Wishing you health, peace, and moments of quiet joy in the year ahead."
That's it. No need for paragraphs. The act of writing and sending is what matters.
Choosing Who Receives Your Nengajō
Traditional etiquette suggests sending nengajō to three groups:
People you haven't seen recently but want to stay connected with. Former colleagues, old friends who've moved away, mentors you no longer work with daily. The card serves as a gentle reminder: distance hasn't erased the relationship.
People who helped you during the past year. Not in a transactional "thank you for your business" way, but genuine acknowledgment. Someone who gave advice during a difficult decision. A neighbor who looked after your plants. Small acts of support that deserve recognition.
People you'll be working with in the year ahead. This is the professional application—maintaining connections with clients, partners, or collaborators. But even here, the message isn't promotional. It's relational.
The key is intentionality. You're not sending cards to everyone you know. You're choosing specific people and taking five minutes per person to write something that acknowledges them specifically.
In Japan, it's considered poor form to send generic mass messages. If you're going to send a nengajō, it should reflect actual thought about that specific person. Otherwise, don't send it.
The Modern Adaptation
Traditionally, nengajō are physical postcards. But digital versions have become acceptable—and in many ways, more practical. You can send a thoughtful image via email, text, or social media and still honor the spirit of the practice.
What matters isn't the medium. It's the intention. You're not mass-texting "Happy New Year!!!" to your contacts. You're choosing specific people and sending them something that says: you matter enough that I took five minutes to think about you as the year begins.
Traditional Imagery and What It Means
Traditional nengajō feature specific imagery tied to the Japanese zodiac and seasonal symbols. Each year corresponds to one of twelve animals (rat, ox, tiger, rabbit, dragon, snake, horse, goat, monkey, rooster, dog, pig), and cards often feature that year's zodiac animal.
But the imagery goes deeper than cute animal illustrations. Each zodiac animal carries specific wishes:
The rat represents new beginnings and prosperity. The ox symbolizes hard work and stability. The dragon (2024) brings transformation and good fortune. These aren't random decorations—they're visual shorthand for what you're wishing the recipient.
Beyond zodiac animals, nengajō often feature:
Nature motifs - Pine, bamboo, and plum (shōchikubai) represent resilience, flexibility, and hope. Mount Fuji symbolizes stability and achievement. Cranes represent longevity and good fortune.
Seasonal elements - Sunrise (hatsuhi-no-de) represents new beginnings. Snow-covered landscapes suggest quiet reflection before spring's renewal.
Traditional objects - Kadomatsu (pine decorations) and kagami mochi (rice cakes) reference New Year traditions and family connection.
Modern nengajō often simplify these symbols, but the underlying meaning persists: you're not just sending a pretty picture. You're sending a visual wish for the recipient's year ahead.
Try It This Year
We've created a few simple nengajō templates you can use. Each one features a candle (because of course it does) and a New Year wish. Save any image below and send it to someone you want to stay connected with this year.

To save: Right-click any image and select "Save image" (or press and hold on mobile)
How to use them:
- Send via email or text to friends/family
- Post on social media with a personal message
- Print and mail as physical postcards
- Use as inspiration to create your own
You can send them as is or add your own message. The point isn't perfection—it's pausing to acknowledge people who matter before the year gets busy again.
Why This Fits the Nagomi Approach
Nengajō align perfectly with the philosophy of nagomi behind our rituals: small, intentional practices that create meaning without demanding hours of time. Our Seasonal Reflection collection was designed for exactly these kinds of year-transition moments—creating space for intentional reflection.
Five minutes to write a thoughtful message. One image sent to three people. That's enough to maintain connection in a way that actually feels meaningful instead of obligatory.
You don't need to send 50 cards. You don't need calligraphy or expensive stationery. You just need to choose a few people and let them know they're in your thoughts as the new year begins.
That's the kind of ritual that actually sticks—because it's simple enough to do, and meaningful enough to matter.
Try it this week. Pick three people. Send them a nengajō. See if it changes how your year starts. Try a mini-tin as you write your nengajō—6 hours of ritual time for $8.99 to mark your fresh start.
When Traditions Evolve (And That's Okay)
Nengajō participation has declined in recent years. Fewer young people send physical cards. Digital messaging feels more immediate. The tradition faces the same pressure all analog practices face in a smartphone world.
But the interesting thing? The core practice hasn't died—it's adapted.
Digital nengajō are now accepted, even common. Apps exist specifically for creating and sending them. The Japanese postal service even offers digital delivery options. The medium changed, but the intention survived.
This matters because it shows how traditions stay alive: not by rigid preservation, but by adapting form while maintaining function.
You don't need to hand-paint postcards and mail them internationally. You can send a thoughtful text with an image attached. What matters is the pause—the moment you stop and think: who do I want to acknowledge as this year begins? What do I want to say to them?
That five-minute pause, that intentional message, that specific acknowledgment of specific people—that's the practice. The rest is just packaging.
And that's why nengajō still works, even in 2026. Because people still need ways to maintain relationships that feel meaningful instead of obligatory. The format will keep evolving. The need won't.