man at the garden

Have the courage to step fully into your life, which also means facing the parts that aren’t working with fortitude and knowing that you can shift the tides of your circumstances.

While contemplating my future and the forward motion toward a new year, I wrote the above as a note to myself—a reminder that I, like you, hold the capacity to create the world within me and that internal shift leads to a transformation in the world outside of me. This reflection has led to weeks of pondering these questions: What do you want your internal world to contain? And what do you need to eliminate?

Over time, we each build an internal toolbox to ride the waves of life. The tools we create are often shaped by the available materials and the reasons we need them. Many of us built the foundation of our toolkit to survive circumstances beyond our control, cobbling together what we needed to endure. I picture a Swiss army knife made from things found lying about—functional but far from perfect.

Over the years, we’re offered upgrades, and sometimes, we accept them. But often, we cling to the old, familiar tool, even as it falls apart, no longer fit for the life we’re trying to build. It wasn’t made for longevity; it was made for survival. Now, we’ve outgrown it.

It’s time to rebuild.

This time, though, it’s not about surviving—it’s about thriving. I get to thrive. I've been doing some internal design work as I clean out the old to integrate new tools. A remodel is on the horizon. I’m not tearing everything down—there are good, hard-earned bones here that I am proud of. There are also rooms that are old, musty, and useless; thus, they must go.

So, what is my redesign teaching me?

I’m learning to separate my needs from my wants and to build a healthy balance between the two. Giving in to my wants has become an escape, allowing me to avoid the discomfort of growth. But it’s also keeping me from the joy that comes with the discipline of honoring my highest self. Much goodness can bloom from the discipline of self-love.

I’m also learning that integrity starts with being honest with myself. It means leaving behind the dance of abandoning myself in search of validation from others.

And I’m reminding myself that I am worthy—worthy of giving and (hear this loudly) receiving life’s goodness. A dear friend recently pointed out the selfishness of giving endlessly of yourself while refusing to allow others to give to you. “It’s a power imbalance,” she said. “It’s not how relationships work.”

As we enter another year, I hope your toolbox is full of useful tools for the future. Where adjustments or new tools are needed, I wish you the courage to create with materials that elevate you—and, in doing so, elevate the rest of us—to all that is divine.

Until next year, be well. Build well.