Every December, I have a little planning ritual. I ask myself one very simple question: What kinds of experiences am I interested in having with my family and friends this season? I let myself get audacious and creative. Once I feel satisfied, I trim it down to the most delicious essentials—the people, places, and activities that truly fill my tank. Once I have that streamlined list, I block time in the calendar and I make it happen. Contrast that with how I used to do December. I would say “yes” to stuff, with only one real criteria: Is my calendar open?

Resentment is one of my least favorite emotions. What sucking on a slice of lemon does to the face, resentment does to the spirit. Resentment causes an inward spiral of bitterness, as we mentally catalog our grievances and complaints on repeat. But resentment can also be a powerful teacher and guide. It can be a big flashing sign saying, “BOUNDARY VIOLATION IN PROGRESS.” If we have the patience and tolerance for it, resentment will show us our path to freedom by showing us where we’ve betrayed ourselves.

Recently, I gave a speech to a group of CEOs and business leaders about communicating with authenticity. The audience was warm, engaged, and a lot of fun to work with. But during the Q&A, one of the CEOs raised his hand and asked me a question that stopped me in my tracks. He asked, For those of us who tend to live in our heads, how do we drop into our hearts? I mean … what a question! What a beautiful, human question. After gushing over the question, I finally got around to answering it.

If you’re reading this, it means you made it through the wildness of December ‘22, and are now at January’s door … thinking about what is possible with this new year. So often we think about professional goal and intention-setting in terms of revenue generated … new connections forged … new habit loops of various sorts. But there’s an area of growth that doesn’t get nearly enough credit—

Hi Friend, The other day, I was in conversation with a few humans, and a moment came in which I felt the VERY strong urge to offer my opinion. It turns out I love offering my opinion. I love knowing that I have something to offer... that there is some benefit to aging … I know things. But just as I began to open my mouth, I sensed that my urge to opine might be (at least in this particular moment) counterproductive. It might be just another manifestation of my need to control. My need to be right. My need to feel useful.