There’s an entire internal world of thoughts and feelings happening inside us at any given moment. For years now, I’ve been working on clearing out the debris and unhealthy patterns that have built up over time. The reality is, many of these patterns have their roots in events from decades ago and have been reinforced, layer upon delicate layer, over the years.

Shedding these old patterns is much like shedding old skin—it requires a gentle, patient approach. I know the person I aspire to be: calm, reasonable, a great listener, someone who reacts with curiosity and compassion. Over many years, I attended corporate courses and leadership programs that taught me skills like effective communication, conflict resolution, and active listening. These skills are rooted in common sense and logic, and I’ve always wanted to embody the thoughtful, impartial person they encourage you to be.

In my heart, I truly believe in allowing people the space to have their own opinions. Each of us is uniquely placed to know what’s best for ourselves. And yet, there are moments when my biochemistry takes over—when certain subjects come up, my nervous system is triggered, and all that intention flies out the window.

I’ve come to see these moments not as failures, but as opportunities. While I can’t always stay curious about others’ opinions in the heat of the moment, I’m getting better at being curious about what’s triggering me. Each time, it’s a stepping stone toward unpacking the unhealthy patterns that keep me stuck in reactions that are far from optimal.

"Conversational Capacity" is a concept developed by Craig Weber, author of Conversational Capacity: The Secret to Building Successful Teams That Perform When the Pressure Is On. It’s a framework that has always made great sense to me. The model is about balancing candor—speaking frankly and honestly—with curiosity—remaining open to others' perspectives—to create productive dialogue.

The idea is to help individuals and teams engage constructively in challenging conversations, avoiding the extremes of attachment (dominating or over-controlling) and withdrawal (opting out or avoiding conflict). By improving conversational capacity, people can handle disagreements more effectively, foster trust, and achieve better outcomes, even under pressure. It’s about creating space for diverse views to coexist, leading to stronger collaboration and decision-making.

This approach seems eminently sensible to me, especially as someone who doesn’t subscribe to a “one right way” philosophy. And yet, in a recent conversation over dinner, this entirely sensible approach didn’t stand a chance against my patterns. It was a classic example of how, even in a low stakes situation, I can get triggered to a point of losing my ability to be curious over something or nothing on the face of it.

Someone made a comment about how chiropractors have zero medical training. I responded, "They have five years of university training," to which another person replied, "Five years of training in something nonsensical is still nonsense," or something along those lines.

This one experience demonstrates just how loaded conversations can be at times. We rarely know what’s going on in someone’s internal world—the thoughts, feelings, or triggers they might be navigating in the moment.

For me personally, I identify with what I once heard Nick Polizzi refer to as the “wounded healer” archetype—those of us who have been deeply let down by the medical profession at some point and have been forced to seek answers elsewhere. My passion for holistic healthcare is well-documented; I’ve written about it extensively, and it’s the driving force behind my book-in-progress on Reclaiming Healthcare.

I’m not someone who takes information at face value. I tend to view things through a critical-thinking lens—questioning assumptions, seeking evidence, and considering diverse perspectives. However, I’m far from adept at debating issues with people who are skilled at cherry-picking details and presenting laser-focused arguments. My brain doesn’t retain those kinds of specifics; I tend to go deep into a subject, form an opinion, and then lose track of the details that shaped it.

Conversations that dismiss entire professions—especially those that have been helpful to me—are like a red rag to a bull. Chiropractors, for example, undergo rigorous training, typically earning a Doctor of Chiropractic (D.C.) degree after four to five years of university-level education. Their coursework includes anatomy, physiology, neurology, and hands-on clinical experience. While chiropractic care may not suit everyone or every condition, it has a legitimate place in healthcare, particularly for managing musculoskeletal issues like back pain and supporting nervous system balance.

Reflecting on the dinner conversation, I realised that dismissive comments often stem from misconceptions or a lack of understanding about a profession's scope. But even that is an assumption I made in the moment. What if the initial comment wasn’t truly dismissive? What if it was simply surprise at learning that chiropractors aren’t trained as medical doctors?

In hindsight, I wondered why I wasn’t more curious about what was being expressed. People’s opinions are shaped by their experiences, and I have to remember that those experiences can be vastly different from mine. For example, imagine growing up in a place where access to conventional Western medicine was aspirational, and alternative practices were seen as less advanced or credible. Looking through that lens, skepticism makes more sense.

My own perspective, however, is shaped by feeling let down by conventional medicine and finding healing through holistic approaches. But my reaction at dinner revealed something about me: I, too, carry biases and patterns.

Away from the heat of the moment, I recognise that being curious about someone else’s perspective isn’t just about understanding them—it’s about unpacking my own triggers. Conversations like this offer opportunities to grow and practice balancing frankness with curiosity.

The truth is, we never really know what’s going on in someone else’s internal world. While I may not have been curious in the moment, reflecting on the conversation has shown me that I made assumptions, too.
As for the person who argued that five years of training in a pseudo-science doesn’t make it scientific, I don’t believe their comment was necessarily meant as an attack on chiropractic care as quackery. Knowing this person, it was likely about challenging my argument rather than the profession itself. They enjoy debating points and often focus on the reasoning behind a statement rather than its broader implications.

Not wanting to get lost in details, I wrapped up with something like, “Each to their own. Some people find chiropractors invaluable, others not” which is more a reflection of my true feelings. But with sadness that I’d lost the opportunity to clarify opinions and actually uncover the stories what was expressed.

Reflecting on this conversation, I’m reminded that all of us carry our own biases, shaped by our unique experiences and backgrounds. We all have moments where our responses aren’t as thoughtful or curious as we’d like them to be. But these moments don’t define us—they offer us a chance to pause and reflect, to unpack the triggers and assumptions that surface when we’re caught off guard.

In a world that is increasingly polarised, we’re seeing the rise of leaders and ideologies that promise to fulfill the collective deep yearning for drastic change in the face of frustration, fear, and unmet needs. Whether it’s in the actions of a politician like Trump or the aggressive power plays of figures like Putin, the pattern is clear: when societies feel unheard or hurt, they are susceptible to leaders who promise to burn down the old systems, even at the cost of greater suffering.

But this desire for destruction, as Teal Swan calls it, is not confined to the political stage; it exists within us all. On a personal level, it shows up in the conversations we have, the biases we carry, and the judgments we make. These internal tensions, just like global conflicts, are driven by a lack of curiosity—by our inability or unwillingness to explore the deeper, often uncomfortable truths about ourselves and the world around us.

Just as global politics is shaped by destructive patterns, so too is our personal growth shaped by the stories we tell ourselves. When we refuse to engage with curiosity, we create the conditions for conflict and misunderstanding, whether on a global scale or in our own relationships. Just like nations that build walls between themselves, we too build walls between us and others when we close ourselves off to understanding their perspectives.

So, as events unfold on the world stage—whether through divisive elections or escalating wars—it’s crucial to remember that meaningful change begins with us. Preventing a deeper cycle of division and destruction requires our willingness not just to argue but to listen, seek understanding, and challenge our assumptions.

The conversations we engage in—at the dinner table, in the workplace, or in public—can either reinforce harmful patterns or pave the way for growth. By replacing the urge to tear down with curiosity and mutual respect, we create a foundation for positive change, personally and collectively.

Now, more than ever, our words and actions matter. Each small choice holds the power to shape our collective future. The question is: Will we embrace the hard work of understanding, or will we continue to perpetuate division? The answer lies in how we choose to listen, learn, and connect—with each other and ourselves.

If you're reading this on Medium, LinkedIn, or another platform and would like to receive regular updates directly (and reliably) rather than relying on algorithms, you can subscribe to my blog to be the first to receive new posts. Each week, I share personal reflections and insights that connect what's happening in my life with the topics I explore

If you enjoyed this post, you might also like How to Be Brave and Speak up Early in the Conversation, How Do I Honour What I Believe and Care Less What You Think? and Feeling Stuck in Health Struggles? Empower Your Body with Holistic Care. 

How often do you find yourself pushing through exhaustion, ignoring the warning signs your body is giving you, just to keep up with life’s demands? If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. In a world that rewards productivity and constant hustle, it’s easy to ignore the signals that say 'slow down.' But I’ve learned the hard way that running on empty doesn’t serve anyone—least of all myself.

So, I’m challenging myself this year to not only reclaim my energy but to make rest an essential part of that equation, recognising that self-care isn’t a luxury, but a necessity for sustainable energy and well-being. Yet, right out of the gate, I’ve been side-swiped by a couple of real energy busters.

As part of my journey into the menopausal years, I began hormone replacement therapy (HRT) at the start of the new year. Estradiol is like the female equivalent of testosterone—it’s meant to give us a bit of energy and smooth out the hormonal rollercoaster. Sounded great in theory, right?

Well, life being life, instead of bouncing off the walls with energy, my body decided to throw me a curveball. Let’s just say I’ve been dealing with some unexpected side effects that have left my energy levels lower than before. Talk about irony—trying to fix my energy and ending up with less of it!

It’s a reminder that transitions, even those meant to support us, can take time to balance out. That’s how life often goes: we commit to a change, and the universe sends along a wee test to see how serious we are about staying the course.

Unfortunately, the universe decided my self-care needed a serious upgrade. With family arriving to stay for a few weeks, I pushed through to get the house ready, care for one of my kids who was unwell, and play the good host by taking our guest out. Of course, I was soon slam-dunked with a nasty cough, swollen glands, and a pounding head.

Even then, I kept pushing through. When one of the kids wanted to spend time with our guest, I took them for afternoon tea and a trip around the mall before bringing my youngest to the hair salon. Deep down, I knew I needed to stay home and rest—I felt utterly awful—but I ignored the warning signs and kept going.

No surprise, I felt worse. Today, I finally relented. When my partner offered to pick up one of the kids from a sleepover, I gratefully said yes. I also let our guest—who is perfectly happy to entertain themselves—know I needed a day at home. Sometimes, the best self-care is admitting we can’t do it all.

It’s no doubt serendipitous that I’ve started taking the Carcinosin remedy at this time—it couldn’t have been planned if I tried as it’s part of a sequential process that spans a number of years. In Heilkunst homeopathy, Carcinosin addresses deep patterns of suppression and stress, often rooted in unresolved trauma or inherited tendencies like perfectionism, over-responsibility, and self-sacrifice, it fits the picture perfectly.

The timing feels almost poetic as I juggle the adjustments of HRT, hosting family, and my usual inclination to push through everything. Carcinosin can stir up what’s been buried—physically and emotionally—leading to a bit of a healing reaction, which the cough potentially is. It’s not uncommon to feel achy, tired, or just a bit off as the body starts clearing these old patterns.

So with only a few weeks of 2025 under my belt, the perfect storm has occurred to challenge me. I wear many hats, and I have many aspirations and expectations of myself, so learning to take things a little more steadily is definitely a high priority for me, especially with my body now in on the act and saying “no” on my behalf, that is a very real warning sign.

I was reflecting the other day how my family has never really had to deal with physical mobility issues. The closest we came was when my gran – who died when she was 100 years old – started to get a bit frail and needed a hand to get in and out the car, and walking across icy paths and so forth. But she still lived on her own, in an apartment where she had to climb two sets of stairs to get to her front door.

I think in many ways I took my physical health for granted. Although I’ve had debilitating experiences, as with my panic attacks in my early twenties, I’ve always bounced back. And although I’ve had a strong interest in the integrated mental and emotional causes of physical challenges and diseases for many years, I’ve been lucky that the chronic conditions which slowed me down – like migraines and kidney stones – have always served as sign posts to address underlying issues like poor boundaries and over perfectionism.

When my mum died of cancer, she was gone within months of the diagnosis and – given her mum lived until she was 100 years old – I think it was a shock to her to depart decades earlier. But she didn’t have the energy to fight it.

While none of us can know what path our lives will take and at which point we will find ourselves on the exit ramp, I think that really brought home to me how important it was to manage my energy. After years of running on empty, and with an active parenting role still to fulfill, along with many other obligations and aspirations, I knew I couldn’t just focus on this full tilt, but I also knew if I didn’t focus on my physical health and treat my body as the wise indicator of adjustments required, then many of my aspirations may be left on the bucket list for another lifetime.

With family visiting in their late seventies, fresh off the plane and eager to get out and explore every day, I’ve found myself in an interesting position. Even though I’m a good deal younger, I have to remind myself that I don’t have to keep up with their pace. It’s okay if some things need to give during their visit—after all, adding another hat to wear means adjustments elsewhere.

This situation has reminded me of just how far I’ve come in breaking old patterns of codependency, learning secure attachment, uncovering my real boundaries, and holding them with grace—in other words, learning to stop feeling overly responsible for everyone else’s happiness, saying yes to everything, and ignoring my own needs just to keep the peace.

And yet, it’s easy to feel discouraged at times—wondering if I’ll ever fully let go of perfectionism or the urge to put myself last. But I know that personal growth isn’t a “one and done” process. It’s a journey, where each challenge offers an opportunity to practice and strengthen what I’ve learned. Maybe this moment, with all its tests, is part of a final shedding of those old patterns.

When we push through exhaustion to meet the demands of others, we risk losing the very thing that fuels us—our vitality. I’ve seen it time and time again in my own life: overcommitting, overdelivering, and ultimately depleting myself. But I know now that I can’t afford to keep ignoring the signals. I’m learning to say 'no' and create space for rest, because without that, I won’t have the energy to do anything—let alone the things that truly matter.

As I reflect on this, I realize that tapping into restorative energy isn’t just about taking a day off or slowing down when we’re sick. It’s about making rest and self-care an ongoing part of our lives, recognising that our energy is a finite resource that needs regular replenishment.

Reclaiming our energy means consciously choosing to slow down, to listen when our body signals that we need a break, and to prioritise what truly nourishes us. It’s about saying ‘no’ to the never-ending demands and finding a rhythm that works with, rather than against, our natural energy cycles.

So, I encourage you to ask yourself: How can you honor your energy and create the space for the rest your body craves? By giving yourself permission to rest, you’ll not only tap into your body’s natural restorative energy, but you’ll also unlock the vitality needed to show up as your best self—for yourself and others.

Because without that sacred energy, nothing else matters.

If you're reading this on Medium, LinkedIn, or another platform and would like to receive regular updates directly (and reliably) rather than relying on algorithms, you can subscribe to my blog to be the first to receive new posts. Each week, I share personal reflections and insights that connect what's happening in my life with the topics I explore

If you enjoyed this post, you might also like Wake Up to Your One Life - Why Now is the Time to Live Fully, Capable, Successful, Yet Exhausted? You Could Be a High-Functioning Codependent and Feeling Stuck in Health Struggles? Empower Your Body with Holistic Care. 

What if the relationships you’re drawn to today were shaped by the dynamics you experienced as a child? As my children have begun to navigate their first romantic connections, I’ve been reflecting on the invisible patterns that draw us to others, often without our conscious awareness. Watching them navigate this stage of life, I’m reminded of my own journey and the patterns I’ve uncovered along the way.

Lisa Romano’s words recently struck a deep chord with me:

“When I married my ex-husband, I had no understanding that I was codependent and had no sense of self. I had no idea that I was immediately drawn to him the moment I saw him because his energy matched that of my mother, the woman I adored but could never please, and whose rejection caused my subconscious mind to believe I was not good enough or worthy of love.

I had no idea that my life with my then-husband would be a repeat of my childhood, me seeking his approval, validation, connection, warmth, consideration and love. I had no idea that I was a people-pleaser, who was disconnected from her authentic self, and who was more comfortable subjugating herself for others than she was anchoring herself to her needs, emotions, values, dreams or wants.”

Knowing Lisa's story, her relationship with her parents didn’t directly mimic mine, but her unconscious wounds, misguided notions, and vulnerability are something I deeply relate to.

Uncovering these subconscious patterns can take years—sometimes decades. For Lisa, her partner reflected the unresolved dynamics of her childhood, drawing her into a familiar cycle of seeking approval and validation, just as she had with her parents.

This also reminded me of something else I read recently about the spiritual dimensions of love:

“Are you reaching a stage in your spiritual development where you are beginning to experience the union of opposites? This can feel like falling in love or merging your consciousness with your environment in a way that transcends words. Love is what we feel when we dissolve the boundaries between ourselves and the outside world, which appears to separate from us. One way or another, there is a meeting of two minds that have the potential to find perfect harmony with one another.”

These words felt like an invitation to reflect on the ways we seek connection—not just with others, but with ourselves and the world around us. True love, whether romantic or otherwise, seems to emerge when we let go of the walls we’ve built to protect ourselves, allowing a deeper harmony to unfold.

But that’s also where I fell into trouble with this notion of love. For years, I let the chemical feeling of attraction dictate my actions, as if it were my true north.

As Teal Swan explains, we’re often subconsciously wired to seek what feels familiar—even when it isn’t healthy. This concept is deeply personal for me but applies to so many of us: how often do we mistake comfort for compatibility or mistake attraction for alignment with our authentic selves? This truth, she explains, is both empowering and sobering:"We are drawn to what we know, even when it isn’t good for us."

I know this now in mind, body, heart, and to the depths of my soul. No part of me remains confused on this issue anymore. But it took decades of contrasting relationships—from the good but "unchallenging" ones to the downright unhealthy ones—to understand that the key to happy, supportive relationships is compatibility with my authentic desires and values.

The word authentic here is pivotal. For all those years of living life from the perspective of the person subconsciously moulded by my earliest relational dynamics, I was attracting people who mirrored the moulded version of me—not the true, authentic me.

If we revisit Lisa Romano’s example, in Teal Swan’s terms, the husband may have experienced a lack of true attunement during his childhood—where caregivers were overly controlling, dismissive, or inconsistent in meeting his emotional needs. As a result, he appears to have developed self-centered, narcissistic traits as a defense mechanism to shield himself from feelings of inadequacy or emotional abandonment.

The codependent person (Lisa) and the narcissistic person (her husband) are drawn together because their wounds “fit” in a familiar and reinforcing way. While Lisa seeks approval and validation, mimicking her childhood patterns, the husband thrives on being the center of attention and avoiding deeper vulnerability. In essence, their childhood experiences programmed them to attract partners who echo their earliest relational dynamics.

While neither party is at fault for the dynamics they inherited from childhood, they share responsibility for addressing and healing them as adults. This means:

• For the codependent partner: Learning to establish boundaries, prioritise self-worth, and release the need to seek validation externally.
• For the narcissistic partner: Facing their emotional wounds, developing empathy, and learning to attune to others’ needs without viewing vulnerability as a threat.

Healing involves awareness, self-compassion, and accountability. However, in the case of individuals with strong narcissistic traits, it is more likely—as it was in Lisa’s case—that the codependent partner will need to leave the relationship. The nature of narcissistic personality traits often makes everything someone else’s fault, leaving little to no room for self-awareness or reflection.

As a parent, this gives me pause. No matter how consciously I’ve tried to raise my children, I know they’re influenced by their childhood experiences, both the good and the challenging. They’re also shaped by their other parent, their early caregivers, teachers, peers, and countless other factors beyond my control. And while I’ve worked hard to grow and heal, I know I’m not perfect—none of us are.

Parenting has taught me, above all else, that we cannot shield our children from the full spectrum of life. There are aspects of me that clash with my children, just as there are with every parent. What we can do, though, is strive to offer them tools—resilience, self-awareness, and the ability to reflect on their own patterns when the time comes.

And, I think, above all else, set them the example of unfolding awareness. As I’ve learned about secure attachment, emotional recognition and healthy processing, and boundaries, I’ve worked to live those lessons.
But no matter how enlightened I’ve become about my own patterns or how healthy my practices are now, I know I must allow my children their own rite of passage into personal growth.

Allowing them to live their own messy lives and trusting that they will find their way, just as I have, is another part of my journey. And as I mentioned earlier, they are only on the precipice of this, so much of their journey remains in the future.

While I can’t walk their path for them, I can continue to model the courage to confront the past, to dissolve those boundaries, and to embrace love in all its forms. All the while reminding myself—when (not if) it gets messy—that this is their journey.

So, I leave you with these questions:

• Have you ever noticed how your relationships mirror aspects of your childhood?
• What unhelpful patterns have you uncovered in yourself or your children, and how have you worked to shift or heal them?
• How do you plan to let go of their outcomes and trust that they’ll find their own way?

Our past shapes us, but it doesn’t define us. Each of us has the power to break free from old patterns and create relationships rooted in authenticity and love. For ourselves and our children, the journey isn’t about being perfect—it’s about being present, self-aware, and courageous enough to trust the process. What steps will you take today to embrace your authentic self and inspire those around you to do the same?

If you're reading this on Medium, LinkedIn, or another platform and would like to receive regular updates directly (and reliably) rather than relying on algorithms, you can subscribe to my blog to be the first to receive new posts. Each week, I share personal reflections and insights that connect what's happening in my life with the topics I explore

If you enjoyed this post, you might also like Your Childhood Is Not Your Fault but It Will Be Your Limitation, Beyond the Silver Bullet - Embrace the Upward Spiral of Transformation and Who Are You Protecting? Why Telling Your Story Is Powerful. 

Two pieces of writing moved me this week. The first was a passage often attributed to Brazilian poet Mario de Andrade, "My Soul is in a Hurry," which reflects the spirit of his writings, especially O Valioso Tempo dos Maduros (The Precious Time of the Mature). It’s a poignant meditation on the finite nature of life. The second was a quote from Bianca Sparacino’s Seeds Planted in Concrete:

"You ruin your life by tolerating it. At the end of the day, you should be excited to be alive. When you settle for anything less than what you innately desire, you destroy the possibility that lives inside of you, and in that way you cheat both yourself and the world of your potential."

These words struck a chord. Life often slips through our fingers when we aren’t paying attention. Andrade echoed this sentiment with a quote attributed to Confucius:

“We have two lives, and the second begins when you realise you only have one.”

That realisation—that time is finite—should ignite us to live with urgency and purpose. Yet too often, we choose comfort and safety, letting life pass us by. Sparacino warns:

"You ruin your life by tolerating it."

Her challenge is clear: examine where you’re settling—for draining jobs, uninspired relationships, or routines that feel like mere survival. Settling not only robs us of potential but also denies the world the unique gifts we could bring.

These reflections resonate deeply with me, though they also stir guilt—the kind that arises from a cacophony of competing "shoulds" in my head. I’ve been too loyal, too responsible, too underconfident, too unwilling to rock the boat (and likely too many more "too’s"). Life’s challenges and the constant effort to build resilience have, over time, chronically drained my energy.

Chronic fatigue is more than physical exhaustion—it’s a slow erosion of vitality. It’s easy to feel as though I’m running on empty, tolerating life because it feels simpler than seeking another way. But resilience is more than pushing through. It’s about pausing, recalibrating, and rediscovering what truly restores and inspires us. Rebuilding energy isn’t about returning to who we were; it’s about evolving into someone stronger, someone who honors both limitations and potential.

I find myself drawn to Andrade’s imagery of the child savoring his last cherries:

"I feel like that boy who got a bowl of cherries. At first, he gobbled them, but when he realised there were only a few left, he began to taste them intensely."

This is the shift I want to embrace—to savor the moments that matter, to taste them with intensity, and to live with the urgency of someone who knows their time is finite.

Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour is a modern testament to this urgency and purpose. Performing 44 songs over three hours every night, she didn’t just deliver a show; she gave a piece of her soul. Watching the live stream of the tour's finale in Vancouver with my daughter felt like witnessing history unfold—proof of what happens when you live and work with passion and dedication. Sparacino’s words echo here:

"Life and work, and life and love, are not irrespective of each other. They are intrinsically linked. We have to strive to do extraordinary work, we have to strive to find extraordinary love."

This alignment of work and love, of passion and purpose, drives us toward an extraordinary life. But as Sparacino reminds us, the danger lies in settling:

"The next Michelangelo could be sitting behind a MacBook writing an invoice for paperclips because it pays the bills or because it is comfortable."

How often do we tolerate mediocrity because it feels safe, only to wake up years later wondering where the time went?

For me, resilience and energy are about breaking free from this trap. It’s about bending without breaking, savoring life’s sweetness, and striving for the extraordinary while honoring the quiet moments that sustain us. Like Andrade, I don’t want to waste time on endless meetings or the absurdities of life. My soul is in a hurry, he writes, and I feel the same urgency.

The extraordinary doesn’t have to mean performing for millions like Taylor Swift or creating masterpieces like Michelangelo. It’s about fully engaging with what lights us up. It’s about embracing the small, meaningful moments and the big, audacious dreams alike. It’s about refusing to settle, savoring every cherry in the bowl, and living with the intensity of someone who knows the value of their one, precious life.

And so, inspired by Andrade’s wisdom, Sparacino’s challenge, and Swift’s example, I’m committing to living with energy, resilience, and urgency. I don’t want to tolerate life; I want to savor it. I don’t want to settle for good enough; I want to strive for extraordinary. And most of all, I want to leave nothing undone, knowing that I poured everything I had into the things—and people—that matter most.

Remember, extraordinary isn’t about perfection or grandeur—it’s about fully engaging with the life that’s in front of us. Whether it’s pouring our heart into a project, showing up fully for our loved ones, or carving out time for what lights us up, it’s about refusing to let life slip by unnoticed.

So, as the calendar turns to 2025, I invite you to pause and reflect. What does your one precious life look like when you live it with intention, passion, and purpose? This year holds infinite potential, but only if we’re willing to embrace it fully. This doesn’t mean overhauling everything all at once. It starts with small shifts:

• Identify one area of your life that feels draining or uninspired. What’s one small step you could take to bring more energy, excitement, or alignment to it?
• Think about your own “bowl of cherries.” What moments, experiences, or people do you want to savor more deeply this year?
• Commit to pursuing one bold or extraordinary dream, no matter how small the first step may seem.

Let’s make 2025 a year where we refuse to settle, savor the sweetness, and strive for what truly matters.

If you're reading this on Medium, LinkedIn, or another platform and would like to receive regular updates directly (and reliably) rather than relying on algorithms, you can subscribe to my blog to be the first to receive new posts. Each week, I share personal reflections and insights that connect what's happening in my life with the topics I explore

If you enjoyed this post, you might also like Beyond the Silver Bullet - Embrace the Upward Spiral of Transformation, The Courage to Lead: How to Empower Yourself and Others in 2025, and Embrace a Purposeful Life to Move From Anxiety to Absolute Authenticity.