Today always opens on the water. Your settings stay exactly as you left them. When you tell each other, the note arrives more reliably.

With a shared tide, you can now let each other know, quietly, when your half of an intention is held. Words follow your iPhone's text size, and the quiet greys deepen when you turn up contrast. Arrange your intentions in your own order, and a mood intention now keeps the day's word. And small refinements throughout.

A day can hold as many reflections as it needs — write once, or come back in the evening. And small refinements throughout.

An intention you shape for someone now opens for them wherever they are — even before they have Tide. What Health tells Tide stays on your device, and goes no further. And small refinements throughout.

Your reflections can sit behind a quiet door now — Face ID, or your passcode. It stays off until you ask for it, in settings. And small refinements throughout.

The tide learns your weather, your hours, and your hemisphere. Rain outside now traces the water; your day can start when it actually starts; the seasons speak correctly on both halves of the world. New quiet practices (urge-surfing, a wind-down you're meant to abandon, a wordless hand on the water), a high-tide line that only remembers, rest days by voice or Control Center, and a numberless widget of just the water. And a once-ever word for the first time the tide pulls back: it always returns.

A new Practices tab gathers the breath, the ebb, and the other quiet minutes in one place. Reflect now holds the night too — a space for what surfaced while you slept. And small refinements throughout.

Your tide now reaches the home screen, Control Center, and Apple Watch — raise it from anywhere. Guided practices for a hard moment: a breath, a slow release, a way back to the shore. The Almanac — a quiet record Tide keeps of your practice, in words, not numbers. Share a tide with someone, or shape an intention as a gift. Choose the water you keep, and let Tide greet you by name. And small refinements throughout.

A new way to settle: the ebb. Let your body gather its tension, then let it go — the tide pulls back, and you go with it. The breath and the ebb now rest together above the tab bar, a tap from any screen. Each marks the seconds of every phase, so your body can follow.

A word for the water now sits beneath your tide — a phrase, never just a number. Step away for a while, and the tide welcomes you back; it kept its place. The greeting drifts with the season, and the daily notes find new words. Tide now keeps an almanac — a quiet journal it writes about your practice, in its own words. The first morning, a hundred days held, a season turning. It lives in Settings, under Library — read forward, through your year.

Your tide follows you to the watch — the ring, your intentions, your streaks. Mark held from your wrist. And small refinements throughout.

Tide now speaks Czech. Cadence shapes the day — weekday intentions rest on weekends, flexible ones never punish a missed day. Pause an intention for today — it returns quietly at midnight. Setting count, duration, and rest is quicker — tap, type, done.

A small moment opens the app — the tide rises, then settles. Sleep and bedtime now hold themselves through Apple Health. Removing an intention quietly archives it — the days you held it stay honest. The hour turns on screen, and a small moon rests beside the date.

Marking an intention sends a droplet rising into the water. The tide is fuller now — waves wake with your day, light dances on the surface, and tilting your phone makes the water shift. A new icon, made for iOS 26 — translucent, wallpaper-aware, alive on the home screen. And small refinements throughout.

Morning and midday notes reflect what you have, what's waiting. Looking back shows only the intentions you had then. And small refinements throughout.