Good Reasons vs. Real Reasons.

Take a closer look at the words people use. Underneath them is a story.

Within this story, there is a good reason and a REAL reason.

If someone doesn’t want to attend an event you invite them to, a good reason may be, “I’m so sorry, but I already have plans on that day.” But the real reason is, “I don’t want to go, and I’d rather relax and watch football.”

If a personal trainer asks their client why they haven’t been logging their workouts recently, a good reason may be, “I’ve been traveling.” The real reason is, “I’ve been too lazy to prioritize my workouts, and I haven’t fit them into my schedule.”

Both reasons may be correct. But the real reason is the deep truth.

The ultimate goal is to build enough safety and trust so that people feel comfortable sharing their real reasons with you. This cuts to the core faster, leading to more authentic relationships and massive transformations.

The Gift of Time and Space.

The beauty of having over a decade’s worth of journals is receiving the gift of perspective. Situations that seemed overwhelming and all-consuming were later mere blips along the journey. The personal and professional doors that slammed shut in my face ultimately pointed me to other doors that opened.

Reading through my journal pages remind me that what we feel in the moment is real. However, it doesn’t dictate the future trajectory of our path. It’s healthy to maintain an attitude of equilibrium. Nothing is good or bad. Time and space do wonders for shrinking the huge emotions that initially accompany those moments.

If you’re currently navigating a chapter that feels overwhelming, I hope this offers encouragement. Feel it all. Process it. And remember to give it time and space.

In due time, you’ll be able to see how it wasn’t as horrendous as you may have imagined it to be. Life continued. You did too. Celebrate your grace and resilience.

The Art of Surrender.

The assignment was to create a Morning Altar using natural elements. However, instead of placing them on the firm, solid earth, we were instructed to use water as the foundation.

As someone who loves certainty, precision, and controlling the outcomes, this was a lesson in surrendering. I laughed as I observed myself attempting to organize the petals symmetrically. The wind outside blew the petals sideways, and the blossoms organized themselves in their own unique ways.

Isn’t this similar to life? As much as we try to control the outcomes, things will naturally land where they’re meant to land.

Our job is to allow, appreciate, and surrender. It sounds simple, but it’s not easy. There’s an art to letting go and letting be. An art that I continue to practice and cultivate daily.

How can you allow things to naturally unfold this week, and witness how beauty seemingly works its way into your life?

Just Do the Hard Thing.

I’m halfway through my Stage Academy Live Stage Speaking Masterclass with Vinh Giang. Leveling up my communication and speaking skills in real-time with other students has been terrifying, exhilarating, humbling, and empowering.

I’m reminding myself that my fellow students have never met me, so they have no baseline assumptions of my voice (or my ‘instrument’ as Vinh refers to it as). I am playing to neutral ears. I can experiment with tonality, pitch, and melody. I can use more facial expressions and body language than I naturally do, and see how it feels.

It feels unfamiliar and unnatural, but I remind myself that it only feels that way because it’s new. It doesn’t mean that my voice in a higher or lower range is inauthentic- it’s merely I haven’t played those particular keys in my vocal range before.

Every week we’re given a task. Sing a song for 20 seconds. Record a three-minute story of an experience that shaped us into who we are today. Upload it to the community page, and comment on fellow students’ videos. Be open to feedback because we’re all trying to improve.

I find myself procrastinating, dragging my feet, sweating, overthinking, and putting it off for days.

Then I realized what it was.

Fear. Resistance. Vulnerability.

The old me was comfortable staying the same. Staying safe. Swimming in the familiar.

But the new version of me yearns to grow. Build. Improve on these skills to level up in life and business.

So I set up my camera and pressed record. I was nervous and the first run-through wasn’t smooth. But I was putting in the reps. Just like I do in the gym. I felt a huge sense of relief because I had decided to just do the hard thing.

What’s the hard thing for you? How can you silence the noise and just begin?

(Note: Vinh Giang was recently on The Diary of a CEO podcast, where he shares a ton of great gems if you’re looking to upgrade your speaking/communication skills. Watch the episode HERE).

Fall in Love...

“Fall in love with some activity, and do it! Nobody ever figures out what life is all about, and it doesn’t matter. Explore the world. Nearly everything is really interesting if you go into it deeply enough. Work as hard and as much as you want to on the things you like to do the best. Don’t think about what you want to be, but what you want to do. Keep up some kind of a minimum with other things so that society doesn’t stop you from doing anything at all.”
— Richard P. Feynman

Square One is Sacred Ground.

Sometimes revisiting old pieces of writing helps someone else who is navigating a similar situation. I wrote this in November 2018. It was a good reminder, looking back seven years later, that this moment of starting again at square one was indeed sacred. It was the biggest gift the Universe gave me. The ashes from which I was forced to rebuild helped me to rediscover my path and purpose.

“Square one is sacred ground.”
— Sam Lamott

“Square one is sacred ground.” I first read these words one week ago while navigating and processing that gut-wrenching feeling that comes with the dissolution of a relationship, and they made me weep. When the reality you’ve known and built your world around suddenly comes crashing down in flames, it’s easy to recognize that you’re back to square one. It’s a mixture of disbelief, anger, fear, and uncertainty. I’ve learned that most of our deepest hurt comes from relationships. But even more importantly, so does our healing. When we’re knocked down and shaking uncontrollably with rage on the floor, it’s our friends who spoon feed us truth, wrap us in love, and remind us of who we are.

Square one humbles us, softens us, opens us up, and acts as the fertile soil for new growth and possibility. It feels like a mixture of daunting fear, fragility, and yet, new hope and promise.

Perhaps you’re at square one too. Maybe you’ve reached a point in your physical health, in a certain relationship, or even in your mental health where you feel like you’re back to the beginning. The very last thing you may feel in this moment is promise. It feels impossible to fathom the beauty in the ashes, that destruction makes way for possibility, and that you’re standing on sacred ground that is filled with opportunities for new growth and potential.

I’m here to invite you to look at your situation with new eyes. It’s not all about the mountaintops that we reach; it’s about the way we put back together the broken pieces from the floor, the way we rebuild and find renewal and restoration in these new beginnings. This is square one. And this, my friends— is sacred ground.

Endings and Beginnings.

Last week, I supported a few clients affected by the recent layoffs. Some expressed mixed emotions of relief, while others were upset and still in shock. When we’re blindsided by a sudden, drastic, life-altering change that disrupts the foundation of our lives, I call this a “Tower Moment.” The entire tower on which we’ve built our sense of safety, belonging, and security suddenly crumbles and we’re left with the ruins and forced to rebuild.

Starting over. Beginning from scratch. It’s simultaneously terrifying and freeing.

But here’s the truth- Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.

I created this altar at the end of my workday with these clients in mind. The dried, crinkled leaves represent the ‘ending’ of what was. To me, they also resembled outstretched hands. I placed tiny blossoms inside of each, as an ode to the new beginnings that would come. Acorns remind us that from tiny seeds, mighty oaks grow. The Prickly Poppy in the center symbolizes the work at their previous company, and the smaller dandelion flowers at the edge signify how those skills will ripple out in new ways moving forward.

As a provider and clinician, art helps me transmute the complexity of emotions into something tangible and meaningful.

You can try it too. Gather whatever you have around you. Arrange your materials in a way that helps you make sense of everything you’re feeling. Place it down, along with your heavy emotions, onto the solid earth. Then offer it up and let it go. Everything, after all, is impermanent.

Magic.

How will you make magic in your life this year?

What’s helped me is to begin by attuning myself to the vibration of making magic- doing things and being around people who make me feel sparkly. When I feel sparkly, I feel more alive, vibrant, creative, open, and expansive. And funny enough, staying in this vibration attracts the right people and opportunities.

What are you attuning to, and as a result, what are you attracting?

Everything is a mirror.

Practicing “Goodbye.”

My best friend had open heart surgery yesterday. Knowing this, she changed her “death day” to 2/12/25. This made the “Year to Live” social experiment all the more real. On Sunday, while most of the world was watching the Super Bowl, we reviewed the different scenarios within an Advance Directive. Would you want a tracheostomy? Would you want to survive if you were paralyzed from the waist down? Would you want a permanent PEG tube placement? Practicing saying goodbye the day before her ‘death day’ reiterated to me just how important she was in my life and how much I loved her as a friend.

The surgery went smoothly, thankfully. But during those hours when she was intubated and unable to communicate, I realized that one of the hardest parts of losing someone was the inability to talk to them. There were tiny things that happened during the day- jokes or things I wanted to text her- that I knew she wouldn’t be able to receive.

I had a brief sense of what most experience when they lose a loved one for good. I’d taken for granted the small, seemingly insignificant exchange of words sprinkled throughout the day that we could always share. The memes, inside jokes, new ideas, and random stories that I knew only she would understand.

Now that the surgery has gone smoothly, every day feels like a gift. I have another moment to appreciate her. Another chance to make more memories. Another opportunity to tell her yet again how much I love her.

When we practice saying goodbye to our loved ones, we welcome a newness and appreciation for the life we share with them while they’re still here.

Life-changing Moments.

“Is this seat taken?” Lacing up your running shoes for the first time in years. Putting in your two week’s notice. “I’m pregnant.” Walking into your first AA meeting. Buying the one-way ticket. An urgent voicemail from your doctor’s office- “Please call us back immediately.” Journeying with plant medicine. Pressing “Publish.” A 3:45 am phone call. Smiling at a stranger from across the room. Turning in your final thesis. Signing the divorce papers. Signing up for singing lessons. Receiving the keys to your first house. Adopting a puppy. Making your first sale in your business. “I think we should talk.” Deciding to leave. Deciding to stay. Deciding to wear your bike helmet even though you’re riding just a few blocks away. Meeting your best friend at 53. Finally getting that mole checked out. Choosing to change cities. Choosing to change jobs. Choosing yourself. Opening up that email. Opening up to a friend for the first time. Opening up to life.