2026: a year for play

I hesitate to even write that title. 2026 has already brought horror and bleakness. It feels almost… dismissive, trite, frivolous in the face of what is happening in the world today.

And yet…

Typically I end a year reflecting on what transpired, how my theme showed up/worked out and looking ahead to the next year and what should guide me as we move ever on and on.

On our New Year’s Day walk, my husband asked if I had a word for the year. I had thought about a couple of options—rest, restore… As I was pushing towards a major deadline at the end of January with some time set aside to rest afterwards, though, I decided I would wait until that period arrived.

This week I learned that the deadline is delayed 4 months—the funder’s decision (due to delays on their end), not ours. Honestly, I felt some relief. We were going to be ready for the January deadline, but we would be pushing hard, and now we have time to refine and better integrate some recent changes.

So what now for 2026 and its theme?

I briefly considered “persist.” It’s appropriate on many levels. Yet I immediately felt a heaviness. “Persist” landed like drudgery, and that’s not the energy I want to bring to the year.

“Maintain”? That sounds awfully dull. Important, but not inspirational.

I realized I was looking for something that would bring a sense of joy. So many of my words over the years—though they have served me so well!—have been serious, operational: Center. Building. Systems. Trust.

“Explore”? I had been reading The Explorer’s Gene by Alex Hutchinson, delving into why we humans seek out challenges and how exploration changes our brains and our societies. Maybe that’s what I was looking for…

But realistically, how much time will I have to explore this year? I have multiple deadlines this year requiring intense focus, exploiting what I know and do well. I know from experience that such focus can limit more expansive thinking.

Then its relative drifted into my mind: Play.

Play… What does that mean in a year that requires deep focus? In another year the world is on fire?

First, play means not getting lost in work or horror. It means making space for things that feed my soul, that fill me with joy.

At one point in 2025, going through a particularly challenging period, I set up some Tiny Experiments, inspired by Anne-Laure Le Cunff‘s book of the same title. I kept it simple: Do one intentional act every day that feeds my soul. They ranged from going on runs with friends to listening to an entire album start to finish in the order the artist defined to trying a new recipe. The act mattered less than the decision. I couldn’t decide after the (f)act. It was the intention, even moments before, that I was doing it for me.

That’s the spirit I’m taking into 2026. Work is not my identity. Don’t get me wrong—I find a ton of meaning and satisfaction in my work. But I am so much more than that, and play means making the time and space to try things that are not obligations—rather commitments to my full self.

There’s a second part though, relevant to work and other “serious” parts of my life.

Play is an invitation to hold the serious things in my life a little less tightly. What happens if I loosen my grip? Make space for others to try new things? Imagine different ways or alternatives to my vision?

Maybe play isn’t so frivolous after all.

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2025 reflection: How well did I trust?

Trust is not a static thing… We can say we have trust (n.) in something or someone. But its real value comes in the practice. We put our trust on the hook when we trust (v.) that capability or person and entrust (v.) it/them with the work at hand.

I chose trust as my theme for 2025. Words can’t really describe just how much that was tested and forged.

I don’t need to rehash the year here. I would be speaking obliquely, and frankly, I don’t really care to revisit all the events in my mind. Suffice it to say, there was far more stress and uncertainty, actions and decisions that I (nor anyone else) had anticipated. And then still there was the main event of 2025, disrupted indirectly by the unexpected changes we’d dealt with.

But I do want to take a few moments to reflect on how the year to trust went. When I wrote about my theme at the start of the year, I called out 4 specific facets. So let’s take a quick look at each.

Trust the training.

I want to trust that the experience I have, the work I have done and will do, is creating the conditions for success with sanity.

By mid-year, we were behind, across the board. It took me a little time to understand why, and I was certainly frustrated. But I recall telling someone, when they asked, that I felt surprisingly calm. I felt like I should be more anxious than I was. Yet I also knew we’d get the important things done. Maybe it wasn’t going the way I envisioned, but so what? I’d had plenty of running races* and work projects that didn’t go to plan, but they still got done.

The sanity part… if I’m honest, I’d give myself a C grade. I passed, but I think I could’ve done better. There were plenty of 50-60 hour weeks, but I didn’t drift into the 80-100 hour weeks I did before. I was feeling tired but not frantic.

Trust my intuition.

Sometime last year, I read about how “intuition” or “gut” is embodied knowledge. It’s something that seeps deep into your bones.

I listened when something felt off and asked the key questions to validate and redirect. I listened when something lit a spark and figured out how to build it into a flame. I remain the analytical scientist, but I also saw how analytics and intuition work together to get me where I need (or want) to be faster.

Trust my people.

I have mixed feelings about this part. In some cases, I tried and found myself caught in negative repercussions of others’ decisions or uncertainty or lack of confidence. In some cases, I felt like I failed people because they struggled at times, overwhelmed because they didn’t tap into the resources available, and I didn’t catch it and redirect earlier. And in other cases, people showed up in ways I wouldn’t have imagined because I let them.

Trust my wisdom.

I know I have so much to learn in life. But I’ve been on this planet for more than 4 decades now, and I can honor what I’ve learned along the way.

This is a facet I feel I can truly celebrate. I did not forget all the hard-won lessons.

Just one quick example. As the work I was directly responsible for was about to ramp up, I thought about the last time I went through a season like this—what I’d done to wear myself down, how I might do things differently, what practices have brought filled me up even when things are challenging. I thought of advice from Brad Stulberg of The Growth Equation about defining minimal requirements. I created a list of non-negotiables: the daily, weekly, and monthly actions that would keep me feeling OK and performing well. I wasn’t perfect—another bit of wisdom I’ve gained; at the outset, my spouse told me 80% is still a passing grade, a valuable nudge. But I kept most of these commitments most of the time, and I am certain that’s why I was not utterly depleted when January arrived—and why I’m not demoralized by the last minute change by our funder, which means I’m still in this intensive work period for a few more months.

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Who’s listening to the “life lessons”?

There’s a genre of post that many modern day thinkers/writers, taking the form of N lessons for my Nth birthday. Quick hits, bon mots to celebrate another cycle around the sun and the wisdom gained over a lifetime.

Maybe because my birthday recently passed and I stumbled into some introspection, I found myself thinking about this genre lately. Who’s it for? Who’s reading it? And more, who’s changing their lives because of one of a couple of dozen witticisms?

I recall seeing one some months ago that was posted by someone in their early 30s. My early 30-something self was in the thick of axis-tilting life changes. Ending a 10-year marriage. Starting a new relationship. Embarking in a different direction of my career. I didn’t have the confidence of knowing what I was doing in my own life, let alone to advise anyone else.

A decade later, I’m more comfortable with myself, even through challenges and shifts. And yet I still wouldn’t find ease in distilling what I think I’ve learned into a list of lessons to share with the world. Maybe because so many norms have been upended in this world. Perhaps because I find myself failing to heed my own advice.

But ultimately I know: That’s not how we learn. I wish I could save someone the effort and pain of building that knowledge that eventually finds it home deep in your bones. But the learning is in the process. It’s in the effort. It’s in the frustration, the exhaustion, and yes, in the pain. But it’s also in the confidence and energy and joy it brings.

That’s not to say we have to do this alone. We can learn in community, gain from the collective wisdom of those near and afar. That’s why we read, why we seek advice, why we engage in dialogue with trusted friends and mentors about challenges that lay before us.

It just doesn’t arrive in a bolus of aphorisms. Of course, these posts have their audience. Maybe the collections of lessons offer insights to some. Maybe they’re a byproduct of reflection, written for the writer and merely shared with the world.

Ultimately quips can be easy-to-recall signals to draw our attention, but they’re not the anchors. We all have to find our own way, in our world, in our own time.

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Books I read, March 2025

Another month, another 5 print books and 1 audiobook down!

Uncertain: the Wisdom and Wonder of Being Unsure by Maggie Jackson

My favorite read of the month. Jackson dives into the art and science of not-knowing, the space where we are unsure or in the dark. This is about epistemic uncertainty, where we are at the limits of our knowledge demarcating a point where we can learn so much—if we’re willing to endure a bit of discomfort. Jackson looks at uncertainty through different lenses, and throughout, I jotted down notes about the ways that society, technology, and (group) culture select against this state. In a time and place where we’ve become hyperfocused on productivity and efficiency, we risk losing the space for discovery and new approaches, both individually and collaboratively.

“It is not uncertainty that we should fear but a growing reluctance and perhaps a waning ability to seek nuance, depth, and perspective, all fruits of skillfully confronting what we do not know. This path does not offer the easy way out. Uncertainty unsettles us—and that is its gift.”

The First Rule of Mastery: Stop Worrying About What People Think of You by Michael Gervais (with Kevin Lake)

Sometime back, I heard an interview with Gervais and started listening to his podcast Finding Mastery. To my understanding, he’s a leader developing and applying the field of high-performance psychology—using the study of the mind to improve how we show up when it matters, to be our very best. He’s worked with a long list of professional athletes, on the sidelines at UFC matches, NFL games, and the Olympics. In this book, Gervais dives into what he calls “fear of other people’s opinions” or FOPO.

Perhaps because I’ve been listening to Gervais for a while, I didn’t find the book content surprising or groundbreaking. But clearly I connected with the content and found it quotable, based on the highlights in the text. I also like how each chapter ends with an Idea to Action section, providing an exercise to apply the concepts described.

Against Platforms: Surviving Digital Utopia by Mike Pepi

This continues my reading list on the impact of technology on society, and the recent trend of pushing back against the technoutopian view that the machines will make everything better. Pepi is interesting because he identifies as both technologist and humanist. He’s been right there in the midst of Silicon Valley startup world but brings a political historical lens to his critique. He describes our current era of technology as “platform capitalism”, a synthesis of technodeterminism and free-market capitalism that is rapidly trying in replacing institutions—and often succeeding but in ways that leave critical gaps behind. He pushes back on the idea of Web3.0 as a “democratizing” power. Pepi emphasizes that the “enemy” isn’t the technology but the positions of those who employ platforms and algorithms—because ultimately technology is, and always has been, a social practice.

“The belief that any tool is isolated, neutral, and not subject to the worldviews and intentions of those that deploy it is far more dangerous than the idea that said software is itself right-wing or left-wing. Tools do carry inherent biases, but the worst bias lies in the humans that deploy them. We must not accept that a tool improves our lives in the near term and then give up on the continued investigation of its long-term effects of who gets to continue to deploy, innovate, and control such technology.”

The Great Mental Models, vol 2: Physics, Chemistry, and Biology by Shane Parrish

Volume 1 covered general mental models. This volume covered a lot concepts I’m familiar with, having trained in chemistry and biochemistry. But it was fun to see them applied in other ways, and as Parrish laid out connections between the chemical principle of activation energy and human behavior, I could envision the connections to catalysts (which were covered in the next chapter).

Tiny Experiments: How to Live Freely in a Goal-Obsessed World by Anne-Laure Le Cunff

Le Cunff sets up an alternative framework to linear, goal-focused progression through life. I picked up on resonances with Four Thousand Weeks (Oliver Burkeman), Uncertain (Maggie Jackson), The First Rule of Mastery (Michael Gervais), and Cal Newport’s “lifestyle centric planning” (which is the topic of his next release, discussed in his Deep Questions podcast). It also reminded me of Designing Your Work Life by Bill Burnett and Dave Evan, which I read a few years ago.

Le Cunff argues that chasing goals often leaves us unfulfilled when we achieve them and eventually to burnout if we’re constantly pursuing endeavors without clear purpose. She proposes a shift towards “tiny experiments”, finding things that interest you and then creating a pact to take a specific action for a specific period of time without a focus on the outcome. She offers some tools for planning, acting, and reflecting so that each experiment creates an opportunity to learn and grow.

I like the concepts (and already have some embedded in my life). I had planned to take on a pact, but the latter part of March ended up being more uncertain and chaotic than expected—so I’ll come back to this when I have the bandwidth for a little more play and reflection.

Audiobook of the month

Supercommunicators: How to Unlock the Secret Language of Connection by Charles Duhigg

As a journalist, Duhigg does a stellar job weaving together fantastic stories with expert insights and research to offer lessons on communication. The heart of Supercommunicators is understanding and aligning to the type of conversation your communication partner is having. Duhigg argues that communication boils down to 3 types of conversations: practical (problem solving), emotional (seeking empathy), and social (relating to others). He suggests that communication often fails because parties are having different types of conversations—for example, your partner wants to vent and feel heard, but you go into suggesting solutions. There are also practical tips for improving communication, such as mirroring and looping for understanding.

This is a book I might come back to in print form, since I feel like I miss a lot of information and nuance in audio versions.

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Honing the edge

There are things you expect to tire you out, to wear you down, as you work through the days and the years.

The hours when they run long.

The push to meet deadlines.

The intensity of deliverables with high pressure outcomes, like the grant that keeps you and a few or dozens others employed.

Then there are the things no one seems to mention. Not until you’re in it. And even then, only in sacred spaces—the brief confessional of connection. Where maybe you let the mask slip. Where maybe the mentor, the confidante shows a crack so you can too.

The social drain of “stage” presence.

The fatigue following facilitation.

The emotional labor of the empathetic. Of being present for others in their fears and anxieties—even as you hold your own closely.

The tension of holding authenticity, awareness, and reassurance in uncertain times.

But there is something else. There has to be for you to persist. To keep coming back, despite the tax.

The satisfaction of success, or even just a heartfelt “well done.”

The privilege of trust.

The courage of connection.

The knowledge—or at the very least hope—that you showed up in a way that let someone release a little bit of their load.

Think of the a blade. The tool that’s most effective when sharp. The process to create that state requires shaving layers from an edge. Sometimes the friction that seems like it’s wearing you down is actually making you ready for what’s ahead.

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