Beneath the layers of adult responsibilities, past traumas, and protective mechanisms lies a younger version of yourself—your inner child. This is the part of you that once explored the world with wonder, embraced vulnerability without hesitation, and held dreams so pure they could light up your soul. If you’ve ever felt disconnected from that playful, joyful version of yourself, it might be because that child is in hiding, waiting for a safe invitation to come out.

Have you ever felt like your thoughts, beliefs, or actions were headed in an unhelpful direction? As though you were caught in a loop, where everything you did or thought seemed to take you further away from where you wanted to be? I’ve been there.

"The expectation that we can be immersed in suffering and loss daily and not be touched by it is as unrealistic as expecting to be able to walk through water without getting wet. This sort of denial is no small matter. The way we deal with loss shapes our capacity to be present to life more than anything else. The way we protect ourselves from loss may be the way in which we distance ourselves from life and help. We burn out not because we don’t care but because we don’t grieve. We burn out because we’ve allowed our hearts to become so filled with loss that we have no room left to care." - Rachel Naomi Remen

"Burnout is an expectation to plan for instead of being seen as failure." - Jessi Gold

I remember the moment of clarity vividly: I was driving on the Mass Pike, grappling with the tension between my lived reality and the truths I was told to accept. The facts in front of me—the harm to myself, the strain on my children, the disconnect between my beliefs and my experience—were undeniable. For the first time, I allowed myself to pause and truly see. And in seeing, I understood: I could choose differently.

“Resilience is the capacity to face reality, and to act according to the data that you see in front of you.”
— Bessel van der Kolk

Social media is a powerful tool, but it doesn’t have to control our mindset. The key lies in shifting our focus from external validation to internal values, building a life defined not by comparison but by genuine, self-directed growth.

In our lives, there are certain truths or facts we’d rather not see. Maybe it’s the plight of the homeless in our own city or the reality of climate change, wealth inequality, or the dangers of addictive drugs. When we choose to ignore these issues, even if we know they’re important, we’re falling into a trap called scotosis—a kind of willful blindness or intellectual blockage. Scotosis can prevent us from making good decisions for ourselves and for society, and learning to recognize it can help us grow in wisdom, compassion, and accountability.

In our modern lives, it can feel like we’re living out a scene from the movie Twister—except instead of cows, cars, and houses swirling around, it’s grocery lists, emails, spreadsheets, coffee cups, holiday party outfits, Pelotons, and that endless to-do list. Every second counts, so we’re in a constant race to move from one activity to the next, trying to keep up as if each task holds the key to survival. While the storm of tasks can’t simply be paused, learning to slow down and reclaim time can bring relief and clarity. Here are three ways to manage time better, restore balance, and start treating time as a friend, not an enemy.

Life doesn’t have to be a race. The work isn’t in keeping up; it’s in slowing down. When you pause to know yourself, you create space for a richer, more authentic existence. You step off the treadmill of performance and into the adventure of discovery.

So, if you’re tired of feeling robotic, let this be your invitation to stop. To go inside. To do the work of knowing yourself.

Because within you lies an abundance—a capacious self, waiting to be found. All it takes is the courage to slow down and look.

Tomorrow, I will heal. Little my little, I will figure it out.

Tomorrow, I’ll speak. And tell my story. 

Tomorrow, I”ll stand. Taller. I’ll show up. And offer my hands, ears, and heart. I’m your ally.

Today, I’ll fight. For justice. For love. For humanity.

Belonging changed me.

Ubuntu teaches us that being “needy” isn’t about lacking something; it’s about recognizing that we’re all connected. We are stronger, happier, and more resilient when we come together. When we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and open, to ask for help and to give it freely, we embrace the essence of being human.

 “I am because we are.”

I am paying closer attention to people around me. I remember being in a grocery store, standing behind an elderly man with his cart full of produce. Normally, I would have been impatient, mentally running through my to-do list. But in that moment, I wondered about him — about the years that had brought him to this grocery aisle, his memories, and the life he’d lived. It felt like I could almost see the story etched in his face: moments of hardship, resilience, and love. It changed how I felt about that entire experience.

Ah, “adulting.” The very word often conjures up visions of endless bills, groan-worthy responsibilities, and a general sense of “Why didn’t anyone prepare me for this?” For many of us, growing up isn’t a process we choose so much as a set of decisions and responsibilities that seem to sneak up on us. Suddenly, we’re out of school, faced with a cascade of life decisions that only we can make, and no one is around to grade our efforts.

Roosevelt’s message is clear: the person who dares is already a victor. Even if they stumble or fall, their journey is valuable because they had the courage to begin. When we bring hope, grit, motivation, support, and the intention to influence others positively, we set ourselves up not just for personal growth but for a life that impacts others. The reward isn’t just in the “triumph of high achievement” but also in the sense of fulfillment that comes from knowing we gave our all.

And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

…as parents, we often view our children as extensions of ourselves. For a long time, I did too. I wanted them to be like me, to succeed in ways that were meaningful to me, and, as I now see, to validate my own sense of self.

Think of mental fitness as a workout you can do in sweatpants. Every day, you get a chance to cross train by managing your mental health as you practice healthy habits: sleep, nutritious food, boundaries, etc, and by listening a little more deeply, responding a little more mindfully, and extending a little more empathy.

Change doesn’t come without distress, or at least a moment of discomfort. This lesson hit me while visiting St. John the Evangelist Monastery in Cambridge. I had arrived expectant—eager for a transformative epiphany. I sat in the library, surrounded by books and a serene view of the Charles River, waiting for something profound.

In both life and work, mirrors are essential. Not the literal ones we glance at daily, but the metaphorical mirrors—the people in our lives who offer us reflections of ourselves. Often, we are so immersed in our own perspectives that we fail to see where our blind spots lie. This is where the mirror of someone else’s perspective becomes invaluable, helping us recognize not only our strengths but also areas where we have opportunities for growth.

Whether it's excelling at work, maintaining relationships, staying fit, or meeting personal goals, the underlying message is often: "Give 100% or don't bother at all." But what if the 80% battery—giving just enough without pushing to extremes—was not only adequate but beneficial in leading a more balanced, sustainable life?

There's something uniquely powerful about using pen and paper. The tactile experience of writing with an amazing pen connects you to your thoughts in a way that typing often can't. It slows you down, allowing your mind to fully process and explore ideas. Writing also offers permanence—once written, your thoughts are there to revisit, reconsider, and learn from later on. This is especially meaningful when we’re navigating the complexities of leadership and well-being.