Sitting on My Hands

I am in my seat in the beautiful auditorium. I’m listening intently as the poet gives her talk. Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer is speaking amazing truths.

But I’m sitting on my hands.

I’m fighting with myself to not take notes.

Often when I hear a great speaker, I’m clicking on my phone keyboard to write down key points as they say them. The practice has served me well through the years. I have both paper and digital notebooks holding insights I might never have remembered otherwise.

I like capturing wisdom while it’s fresh—then having a record I can return to later to reread and maybe incorporate into my life.

All good things.

But there’s a tradeoff.

While I’m copying down one brilliant sentence, the next one is already being spoken. My attention splits because my brain can’t record one thing and fully listen to another at the same time. Neither task gets my full presence.

Who can truly pay attention to two things at once?

So as I listen to Rosemerry, I try to do just one thing:

Listen.

The Leaves That Don’t Let Go

For the month of March, my singular focus with my One Word Shift has been Nature.

I’m paying closer attention to the subtle shifts happening outside: the yellow daffodils pushing through the soil, the tiny unfurling of new leaves, and the stretching of daylight hours that brings us more life.

But I’m also noticing something else.

The dead leaves.

In early spring, when most trees have stood naked for months, a few are still dressed in last year’s leaves. Brown and brittle, long past their prime, these leaves have been hanging on stubbornly all winter long.

The internet tells me there’s actually a name for this: marcescence.

Certain trees—especially some oaks and beeches—hold onto their dead leaves instead of dropping them in the autumn like most deciduous trees.

Scientists aren’t exactly sure why, but they theorize that the dead leaves stay on the branches to protect new buds, discourage deer and other animals from nibbling tender growth, and provide fresh nutrients in the spring when they do fall.

Nature, it seems, isn’t in any rush to let go. Not until it’s time. Not until the baby leaves arrive and gently push the old ones out of the way.

Our Own Marcescence

As I sit listening to Rosemerry, I wonder about my own connection to holding on and letting go.

I’ve always liked holding onto words the way those marcescent trees hold onto leaves. Notes from talks. Quotes from books. Lines that strike me as important enough to keep, too meaningful to drop.

Sometimes that’s helpful. Last year’s leaves serve a purpose, after all.  So do old words.

But other times I wonder if my intellectual marcescence—clinging to old words even after their season has passed—keeps me from noticing what I’m hearing right now.

The Vase or the Sieve

During her talk, Rosemerry shares a story. She had told a friend about trying to become a bigger vase so she could hold all the emotions she was feeling. (Read the poem here: Pourous)

But her friend gently challenged the premise.

Why be a vase?

Perhaps instead of trying to hold everything, she could be a sieve and let the experiences simply move through her.

Ahh.

I hear the lesson.

I don’t write it down.

One Leaf Worth Keeping

Later, after the talk ends, I pick up my phone. I type the line into my notes:

Be a sieve, not a vase.

That simple nugget of wisdom feels like a leaf worth keeping.

Hopefully the rest of the talk has done its work simply by passing through.

Maybe that’s a shift worth noticing: knowing when to hold tight and when to let go.

Some words need to stay with us a long while, until their message is buried deep in our soul or until something new and improved pushes them out of the way.

Other words can drop away quickly once they’ve completed their seasonal work, like leaves returning to the soil in the autumn months.

And like the trees outside our windows, we don’t have to force either approach.

Just let the shifts happen, each in their best time.

Question for you:

Do you write it down when you hear something meaningful—or do you prefer to just listen? Share in the comments.

Read more about Shift:

• A Small Shift: Learning to Notice Instead of Fix
  This is what a missing glove is teaching me about letting go.
• What If This Moment Is Asking for a Different Pace?
  When plans fall apart, learning to shift your pace can change things.
• Noticing the Shift: What Keeps Blooming When We Pay Attention
  A Share Four Somethings post about discovering what keeps blooming in everyday life.

The Elevator Test

When the elevator door on the right opens, we immediately smell something.

It stinks.

It’s Monday afternoon at the apartment complex where we deliver free meals. Our grocery cart is full of food containers, and we’re ready to start making our rounds.

A woman gets out of the elevator. She warns us, “Watch out for the puddle on the floor,” she says. “Someone peed there.”

Now I smell it even stronger.

We pause to debate what to do next.

Do we get on the elevator anyway? Do we wait for the second elevator on the left, hoping it comes quickly?

I believe this may be too much for me.

I start leaning toward a third option: maybe we should just call it quits, leave the food in the lobby, and go home.

It surprises me how strong my reaction is. I had wanted to be here. And yet just the idea that someone chose to relieve themselves in an elevator fills me with disgust.

A strong enough belief that I’m ready to walk away.

But as we stand there, I notice I’m reacting strongly to something I don’t actually know for sure.

• What if someone had been sick?
• What if it was from a small child?
• What if it was something else entirely?

Would a different answer make a difference in our decision?

While we linger in the discussion, the elevator door closes. Without us.

A Book for Questioning

Lately I’ve been reading—and experimenting with—a new book by Nir Eyal called Beyond Belief.

The premise is simple but powerful: many of the things that limit us may not be based on evidence, but on false beliefs we’ve unconsciously adopted.

These are the definitions that Eyal uses to explain the differences between these three things:

• Fact: An objective truth that can be verified with evidence
• Faith: A conviction without need for objective evidence
• Belief: A firmly held opinion, open to revision based on new evidence

The book is primarily about beliefs—our strongly held opinions. Eyal describes beliefs this way:

“Beliefs aren’t simply thoughts or feelings. They’re tools—working models we use to navigate reality when the truth isn’t fully knowable.”

The problem comes when we allow our opinions to limit our lives.

Examples of these kinds of beliefs include:

• Believing someone doesn’t like you if they had to cancel your lunch date, so you never reschedule
• Believing you’re not smart enough to graduate so you never enroll in college
• Believing you’re too old to learn a new skill so you let yourself fall behind

None of these are facts. These beliefs are simply interpretations.

According to Eyal, the way to challenge limiting beliefs isn’t through argument. It’s through finding evidence.

He suggests asking questions like:

• Does this belief hold up to real-world feedback?
• Am I ignoring evidence that contradicts it?
• Is this belief open to revision?

Beliefs matter because what we believe shapes what we see, and what we see shapes what we do.

The Quiet Power of Belief

Not every thought we have is true.

Some thoughts are.
Some thoughts aren’t.

The same goes for beliefs.

But the way to find out isn’t through overthinking—it’s often through trying something and seeing what happens.

Books like Beyond Belief encourage me to do just that. It lists three powers of belief:

• Attention: the power to see what you believe
• Anticipation: the power to feel what you believe
• Agency: the power to do what you believe

Experiment with beliefs by starting with evidence. Focus where it counts. Shape the stories you tell yourself.

Practicing Small Experiments

Since reading the book, I’ve been trying some of these experiments in my own life.

For example, when lying in bed I sometimes believe I’ll never fall asleep. Yet when I pause and look at the evidence, I know I always eventually fall asleep. Every night. Believing my body will suddenly forget how to sleep is a belief that doesn’t hold up.

Or when I believe my whole day will be ruined if I don’t finish my to-do list. I experiment by intentionally leaving a few things undone and see if I survive. Spoiler alert: I do.

And when I believe I can’t finish my rounds if someone urinated in the elevator, I can question that too. Is it possible I actually can endure a 10-second elevator ride while stepping around whatever is on the floor?

The Elevator, Revisited

The elevator door that opens next is the left one. Whew. We get in and go to the second floor. But after finishing the meal deliveries on the second floor, it’s time to return to the elevator to head up to the third floor.

Two doors. Two choices.

Which one will open first? It’s the one on the right. Ugh.

This time, though, something is different.

There’s no odor. No puddle. Just a leftover paper towel from a cleanup.

We step inside and laugh. Whatever had been there before—urine, spilled liquid, something else entirely—is gone.

And either way, we would have survived it.

I’m grateful I didn’t give in to my earlier belief that the situation was simply too horrible to endure. (Shout-out to my companions who helped me persevere.)

The moment feels small, but it sticks with me.

Sometimes testing an experiment isn’t necessarily to prove yourself right or wrong, but to see what is possible.

Maybe it can be as simple as stepping into an elevator that you were sure you couldn’t tolerate.

As Eyal writes:

“Extraordinary lives aren’t built on grand declarations. They’re built on small efforts—actions that create evidence, evidence that strengthens belief, and belief that fuels more action until possibility itself expands.”

And every life deserves to be extraordinary.

Question for you:

Have you ever believed you couldn’t do something, only to discover later that you were more capable than you thought?

Share your thoughts in the comments.

thanks to NetGalley for the review copy of this book

The Longing for Something Else

Our friend has been wanting to move for a long time.

She’s been unhappy in her neighborhood. Restless. Disturbed. Ready for something quieter, greener, and more spacious. But her options have been limited.

So when she told us last December that a perfect opportunity had opened up, we were excited for her. A friend had offered her an empty room in the country with a beautiful view and calm surroundings.

She was thrilled.

And we were happy for her.

But also heartbroken for ourselves. Because we knew what it likely meant: we would probably never see her again.

The Goodbye That Wasn’t

A few weeks ago, on a Monday afternoon, we said our teary goodbyes. It felt heavy and final. We were grateful for our years-long friendship but already grieving the loss to come.

Then the next Monday, when we went back to her apartment complex, our friend was still there.

And the next Monday.

And the next.

Of course we were thrilled for ourselves. But also confused.

She didn’t offer many details. Just that she was waiting. Making sure. Trying to discern whether it was truly the right move.

And that’s when the real work began for us.

The Hard Work of Staying Quiet

The hard work is not prodding her, encouraging her to make the “right” decision to move while she can.

It would be so easy to:

• Say what we would do
• Point out the obvious benefits
• Tell her she’d be crazy not to take the opportunity

It takes discernment to know when to speak up and when to be quiet. Sometimes our advice is sound and proper to offer.

But in this case, with this friend, our advice is not what she needs. It’s our respect.

She is older than we are. Wiser. A survivor of trials we don’t even know about. She knows her own mind and is fully capable of making her own decisions.

Our advice wouldn’t actually help her.

It would only help us feel helpful.

When Helping Means Stepping Back

Sometimes helping means stepping back.

Sometimes love looks like keeping your two cents in your own pocket.

Sometimes the most generous thing you can offer another person is trust.

Trust that they don’t need your fixing.
Trust that their timing is not yours to control.
Trust that they know what is right for themselves.

I recently came across these words that Parker Palmer published ten years ago. But the sentiments are evergreen:

“Here’s the deal. The human soul doesn’t want to be advised or fixed or saved. It simply wants to be witnessed — to be seen, heard and companioned exactly as it is.

   When we make that kind of deep bow to the soul of a suffering person, our respect reinforces the soul’s healing resources, the only resources that can help the sufferer make it through.”

– Parker Palmer, The Gift of Presence, The Perils of Advice

Witnessing. Not advising.

Therein lies our gift.

If She’s Still There on Monday

So next Monday, when we return to our friend’s neighborhood, if she is still there—still waiting, still discerning, still undecided—I hope we’ll simply be glad to see her again.

No hinting.
No nudging.
No advising, even out of concern.

Just presence. And delight. And the gift of saying, without words, “We trust you.”

And big hugs all around.

A Question for You:

Sometimes our advice is welcomed and needed. Other times, we need to keep our two cents in our own pocket. How do you discern the difference?

I’d love to hear your wisdom in the comments.

When Time Feels Manageable

I begin the morning relaxed. I have ample margin built into my schedule—a gift of breathing room to myself. No rushing. No tight deadlines. I’ll arrive at the airport early, sharing an Uber with my friend whose flight leaves a full two hours before mine.

Everything feels calm. Manageable. Under control.

My flight back home is scheduled for 3:15 p.m. I’ll land in Dallas at 6:20, with a comfortable one hour and twenty minutes layover before my final flight home. Plenty of time.

Until the dings begin.

The Dings That Change Things

Ding.

A text from American Airlines. My flight to Dallas is delayed by 15 minutes.

I don’t mind. I’ll still have an hour to get to the next gate once I arrive in Dallas. No biggie.

Ding.

New departure time: 4:00 p.m. Arrival in Dallas: 7:05.

My stomach tightens a little. Now I’ll have to run when I get there. I begin shifting to a hurry mindset.

Ding.

Departure pushed to 5:05 p.m. This won’t work at all . . . except my connecting flight is also delayed. It’ll still be close. Still tense. Still possible—but barely.

Ding.

Really? Now I’ll leave at 5:30 p.m.

I talk to customer service at the airport. They tell me to keep my flight to Dallas and hope for the best. Hope feels wobbly, but it’s all I have.

When Hope Runs Out

Ding.

5:57 p.m.

Ding.

6:24 p.m.

Ding.

The seventh delay seems like a final verdict: 7:07 p.m.

I’m done.

This time, I know I’ll miss my connecting flight.

And then—something unexpected happens.

An Experiment with Pace

My February theme I’ve chosen for my One Word Shift is Pace.

Specifically, I want to honor the pace this moment requires. I pull forward the tangible representation from my One Word jar: my deceased aunt’s old watch—a reminder that time is more relative than we realize.

Sometimes altering my pace means I slow down. Intentionally. I’m trying to stop rushing when when rushing isn’t necessary.

Other times, it means I speed up—not letting something linger longer than it needs to.

Like writing this blog post.

I decided to see how quickly I could put it together.

As it turns out: not as fast as I wanted. But also, not as long as it could have taken.

The Moment Everything Softens

Back at the airport, once I know that I won’t make it home tonight, my jitters disappear.

When rushing was no longer an option, something in me finally softened.

The delay is so large that I’m back to having plenty of time again.

The mental math stops. The frantic inner voice quiets down. I’m no longer in rush mode, because there is no rushing something out of my control.

And somehow . . . that’s freeing.

Waiting Is Okay

I finally arrive in Dallas at 10:30 p.m.

I shift back into slow mode.

Waiting for customer service.
Waiting for the shuttle.
Waiting in line at the hotel that night (compliments of American Airlines).

By midnight, I’m in a bed. And by morning, I’m on a new flight home at a leisurely 10:30 a.m.

The Real Shift

Experimenting with pace has been interesting. I’m learning that while physical shifts matter, for me the mental shifts matter more.

Timing isn’t always within our control. But knowing when to slow down and when to speed up is helping me better live in the moment I’m actually in—not the one I’m racing toward or the one I’m trying to resist.

Timing isn’t always within our control—but our pace still is.

As it turns out, staying present here is the sweetest time of all.

When have you had to speed up lately? Slow down? I’d love to hear in the comments.

Life is like an ever-shifting kaleidoscope—a slight shift and all patterns alter.
– Sharon Salzberg

Just Noticing

I carry my breakfast dishes to the sink and check the outside temperature.
Cold again.

Like most mornings, I then get ready for my morning walk. Jacket. Cap. Sunglasses. And . . . where are my gloves?

These purple gloves (well, technically they’re convertible flip mitts since they’re a combo of gloves and mittens) are my favorites. Yesterday I tucked them into my pocket during my walk once it got warm.

Today, only one glove is here.

I glance around the kitchen. The laundry room. Even the car. Maybe I dropped one in the garage? I check my pockets again. Still just one glove.

Did it fall out yesterday? Maybe somewhere along my walk it slipped out without my noticing.

Suddenly today’s walk shifts to a new meaning: find the glove.

And the only way to find it is to notice.

Making Shift Practical

My One Word for 2026 is Shift. And I want it to be more than philosophical.
I want it to be practical. Tangible.

I want physical reminders of Shift around me—things I can see with my eyes and touch with my hands.

Since I chose a focus word for each month centered around Shift, I’ve also collected a solid object for each one, and placed them together in a glass jar.

January’s focus? Notice.
Practice curiosity (hello again, my word from 2024).

Notice the shifts instead of forcing them.
Watch, not work.
Examine, not explain.

A Small Turn Changes Things

Originally, I wanted my January object to be a kaleidoscope. Because with just a slight twist, the view changes entirely.

That’s how noticing works.

We notice a slight shift in a friend’s expression during a conversation.
We notice how tall our grandchild has suddenly become.
We notice that our steps are a little quicker—or slower—and our walks a little longer—or shorter—than they were last year.

No judging.
No forcing an outcome.
Just noticing.

Just a small turn of the kaleidoscope to offer us a new perspective.

The Snow Globe Stand-In

However, I don’t actually own a kaleidoscope. And I’ve not bought one yet.

So for now, I’ve chosen a close second: a snow globe. (Ah, this itself is a shift; I’m doing it!)

Like a kaleidoscope, everything changes in a snow globe with a small shake. And then eventually settles again.

Just something to notice.

The Purple Glove

I’m nearing the end of my walk through the neighborhood. And still no sign of my glove.

I have one last cul-de-sac to walk down. As I make the left turn, my eyes scanning the road for a flash of purple, I see something ahead.

From a distance, I can tell it’s purple.
Closer now—the shape seems right.
And then my heart lifts.

It’s my glove.

Found without any extra effort or strategy or control on my part.

Just noticing.

Letting It Be Simple

I realize life doesn’t always work this way. Sometimes we have to be more proactive and execute a complicated plan to reach a specific goal.

But sometimes—not.

Sometimes, but not always, life really does unfold this simply. And for that, I’m grateful.

So maybe today, try your own small mental shift.
Maybe everything doesn’t need your full control. Maybe you don’t have to work so hard or explain or manipulate something (or somebody?) quite as much as you think.

Instead, when it’s possible,
just notice.

And see what you find.

Where in your life might noticing—rather than fixing—be enough today? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

“All that you touch, you change.
All that you change, changes you.
The only lasting truth is change.”
– Lauren Olamina in Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler

A Daily Walk, A Subtle Shift

I open the front door.
The sun is shining, but the breeze is cold.
I slip on my gloves. It’s going to be a cold walk.

As has become my practice, I begin my walk by noticing how the shift in environment—from inside to outside—feels to my body:

• the change in temperature on my skin,
• the direction of the wind on my face,
• the deeper breaths as I walk up the hill.

But when I turn the corner around the block, I consciously shift to a different mindset.

Now I’m looking for one thing:

What looks different today compared to yesterday?

Change Is Always Happening (Even If Invisible)

There are always differences. Even if I can’t spot them.

Since yesterday, I know that:

• the wind has rearranged fallen leaves,
• squirrels have stirred their acorn piles,
• cars have passed by, leaving microscopic rubber dust on the road.

Change is always around me.

But it isn’t only the outer world that shifts.

We Are Not Who We Were Yesterday

Our inner worlds are always on the move, too.

I am not the same person I was yesterday.
Neither are you.

We may look the same on the outside from day to day. And even on the inside, we’re breathing with the same lungs as yesterday, heaving the same heart up and down, and processing information with the same brain.

But the air molecules we’re inhaling today are new. The blood we’re pumping has been replaced by millions of fresh cells. And the thoughts we’re thinking are traveling on updated neural pathways based on our latest experiences.

Ready or not, aware or not,
we are changing.

Choosing My One Word for 2026: Shift

It was on one of these ordinary daily walks that I found my new One Word for 2026

SHIFT

because I’m so amazed, perplexed, and often troubled by these universal truths:

• Everything is impermanent.
• Everything changes.
• Everything shifts.

The earth does.
Circumstances do.
We do.
Every thing, every day.

From Ripple to Shift

In 2025, my word was Ripple. Through its lens, I watched when one thing moves, it affects everything around it.

With each shift you make, my world adjusts a little.
With each shift I make, yours does too.

This isn’t new wisdom, of course. As far back as 500 BCE, we have these sayings attributed to the ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus:

• “The only constant in life is change,” and
• “You cannot step into the same river twice.”

The Art of Small Adjustments

Studies say we make an average of 200 decisions on every mile we drive (depending on city or highway traffic). These micro-adjustments can be slight moves with the steering wheel, speeding up or slowing down, taps on the brake, checking our mirrors, deciding when to change lanes—all important changes to ensure a safe journey.

Similar changes are just as important as we drive (and are driven) in our lives. The subtle shifts we will make each day in the coming year will help keep our minds, hearts, and bodies aligned to our changing environments.

Some shifts will be deliberate and noticeable.
But many shifts will happen underneath our consciousness, yet equally vital in keeping us responsive, alive, and moving along in the direction we hope to go.

My Intention for the Year Ahead

As this new year begins, my desire is:

to notice shifts more closely,
to make some shifts more intentionally,
and to accept inevitable (even unwanted) shifts more freely.

I’m writing this post as my first official partnership with Shift in 2026. I have designed a logo of Shift to put on my mirror. I’ve mapped a monthly schedule to include things like experimental shifts in pace, closer awareness of nature shifts, and noticing which of my interests have shifted over time.

Yet all the while I know, even begrudgingly, that these plans will shift in big and small ways to accommodate real life as it comes. Rigidity means death when we’re too inflexible. Shifts are healthy for growth.

This I can know with certainty:

Everything changes.

So this year I want to stay present.
Learn to make adjustments.
And be grateful for shifts.

Questions for You

What’s one small shift you’ve noticed in your life lately? Is there a small or large shift you’d like to make in 2026?

If you have a word of the year, what is it?

I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

About One Word of the Year:

If choosing one guiding word for the year speaks to you, you’re invited to join our online One Word community. We offer encouragement to each other all year round to continue practicing our words. You’ll receive a monthly email with suggestions, an invitation to join our private Facebook group if you’d like, and opportunities to share blog posts each month on the 26th.

Time stays on my mind a lot, but especially so at the changing of a year. I track it a little closer. And watch it pass a little quicker.

Although not by design, I’m unsurprised that my collection of Share 4 Somethings this month ended up centering on time—specifically on tools that help me live my hours and days with more intention.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Something I loved

• SEEING THE YEAR ALL AT ONCE 

Are you a calendar person? I’d be lost without mine—both digital and paper. [Do You Write In Your Calendar With Ink or Pencil?]

I’ve added one more calendar to the mix the past three years: a continuous calendar.

I use this one for one purpose only—to log when we’re going to be out of town. No weekly boxes. No clutter. Just the full year stretched out in one spot.

There’s something grounding to see our planned comings and goings in this way—a visual reminder of the subtle shifts in location we want to make over the year.

Here’s the link to the free continual calendar site I download from, though there are plenty of other options online.

 ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Something I learned

• LETTING AI HELP SCHEDULE MY ONE WORD

The past couple of years I’ve asked AI to help organize my One Word of the Year into a practical, monthly schedule. I start with a simple prompt to give it my own ideas, like:

> “My new One Word of the Year for 2026 is ___. Create a calendar with a monthly theme, three journal prompts, and three activities centered on one aspect of my word, such as ___.”

Then I ask for more ideas. I narrow them down to the ones I like the best. Then I ask for a one-page printable. And finally, a visual (although I’ve yet to love theirs, so I create my own).

What I’ve learned is I don’t have to outsource my thinking to AI to get the most from it. Instead, I can just use it as a conversation partner to spot patterns and better organize themes. For my 2026 word, it was once again helpful to keep my plans simple and doable.

(If you want to play with AI to discover or refine your own One Word of the Year, try these 6 prompts.)

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Something that went well

• 15 YEARS, 1 LINE AT A TIME

Wow—it’s hard to believe I’ll finish writing my third five-year “one line a day” journal on December 31. That means I’ve been doing this for fifteen years?!!

I’ve already bought my newest 5-year book, ready to begin on January 1, 2026. (I’d love to find a spiral-bound one, but no luck yet.)

While I don’t always love doing it, I always love having done it (that makes sense, right?). It’s a quick, low-pressure way to capture one small—or big—thing from each day.

The real fun comes from looking back at the same date across different years. It’s a nice little snapshot of who and where I was then, and a reminder of details I’d otherwise have forgotten (like, what was the name of that restaurant we really liked in Panama City?).

Here’s what I wrote on this day:

One year ago:
December 29, 2024, Su.
Jeff and H ride bikes. I throw away more stuff.

Five years ago:
December 29, 2019, Su.
Such a fun trip seeing the girls! I’m exhausted.

Ten years ago:
December 29, 2015, Tu.
HARD day with stomach pain. Visit doc but no help. Jeff taking good care of me.
(Less than a month later, I’d have my gallbladder removed—problem solved.)

It makes me wonder what I’ll write at the end of this day, and how it will sound to future me, who will already know what came next.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Something I let go of

• A DAY TO RELEASE AND REIMAGINE

A few weeks ago, I spent a day letting go of 2025 and looking ahead to 2026. I followed the same schedule from this amazing book I used last year, including one activity where I stacked a coin for every year I’ve lived—and then estimated another stack for how many years I might have left.

It’s a sobering practice. (Who knows if the remaining stack should be much shorter—or even taller?)

During the journaling, I wrote down what I believed to be my biggest problem and my greatest joy. I’m curious to see, a year from now, whether they’ve shifted or stayed the same.

Also from the book is a blessing I’ve been carrying with me ever since—I offer it first to myself then extend it outward to others:

As I grow older, may I be kind to myself;
As I grow older, may I accept joy and sorrow;
As I grow older, may I be happy and at peace.

I can’t predict what will happen in this coming year. But one thing I do know, if we’re still here:

Time will keep moving.
Calendars will keep turning.
And we’ll keep showing up in the days we’re given—living them, remembering them, and letting them go . . . when it’s time.

A Question for You:

What’s a tool or practice that helps you live with time? Do you use a digital or physical calendar? A journal?

Share your thoughts in the comments.

Read more about time:

• Are You Uncomfortable Filling Your Calendar with Empty Spaces?
  Can you intentionally keep some empty spaces on your calendar? Practice the skill of releasing busyness.
• How to Win Your Fight with Time . . . in your four thousand weeks
  The typical lifespan is about 4,000 weeks. How do you handle the struggle with limited time?
• Do You Write In Your Calendar With Ink or Pencil?
  Even a cancelled haircut can disrupt your day. How do you stay open? Does it help to use pencil, not ink?

I’m linking at these blog parties

The Struggle of Choosing the Right Gift

I’m not ready for Christmas yet.

My house looks ready—the tree is lit, the stockings are hung, the mantel is decorated—but under the tree, there’s not much.

The hardest part for me isn’t buying gifts—it’s deciding what to buy.

Just yesterday, I spent awhile searching online for the right gift for someone I love. I found what I thought they’d want. Then I saw the shipping fees. Outrageous. I clicked away, pleased that the company wouldn’t get my money.

But also displeased that I’m no closer to having the gift to give.

That moment, as silly as it sounds, is an apt metaphor for my gift-giving struggle: I think of something, but then I talk myself out of it.

The Myth of the Perfect Gift

My desire is to find the perfect gift for each person. The one thing that they wouldn’t buy for themselves, but that they’ve been wanting.

But there is no perfect gift. Not really. And even if there were, it would only be perfect for a season. The new always wears off, the excitement fades away, and the object eventually becomes, well, just another object.

Finding Joy in Imperfection

Still, I hope the gifts I give are received with my good intentions. Used and enjoyed. I hope they bring a moment of joy, however fleeting. I try to remind myself that even if the thought counts more than the item itself, the item can still carry joy—and isn’t that what we want for those we care about?

I’ve never felt like a great gift-giver. Maybe it’s because I’m a minimalist at heart.

I talk myself out of buying things for me all the time because…Do I really need that thing, after all? Why would I want more clutter? And do I want to be responsible for adding more junk to the landfill one day?

Letting Yourself Off the Hook This Christmas

So every Christmas I sit with this tension. I have a desire to give, yet a fear of getting it “wrong.”

I want to let myself off the hook these remaining two weeks before Christmas. I’ll wrap the gifts I’ve already bought, hope the gifts I’ve ordered will come in soon (!), and finish shopping for things that might put a smile on someone’s face at least for a moment, even if not forever. The moment is enough.

And maybe that thought actually does count for quite a lot.

Share your thoughts in the comments.

Related reading:

• Don’t Compare; Just Create
  I went to a unique competition last night to watch Barry. But was it about comparing or creating?
• Progress Over Perfection: Lessons from a Squeaky Floor
  Renovations (and a squeaky floor) reminded me that life isn’t flawless—and it doesn’t have to be. Discover why progress matters more than perfection.
• Let Go of This to Make Quicker Decisions
  Want to make quicker decisions? Let go of this and you will.
• 5 Ways to Let Go of Unrealistic Expectations
  It’s normal to get our hopes up, but it’s unhealthy to cling too tightly to results out of our control.

A One Word of the Year practice won’t always teach you something brand-new. But it does give you fresh and valuable gifts throughout a year.

That’s exactly what Ripple did for me this year.

Beginning the Year in Pencil

Back in January, I wrote parts of my calendar in pencil instead of ink because I wasn’t sure how Ripple would unfold. I felt the uncertainty of it—what it might ask of me, where it might lead. (More about that here.)

We can never fully predict what’s ahead: the places we’ll go, the experiences will have, or the people we’ll meet—like the hospital housekeeper I met from Thailand—who quietly ripple in and leave a lasting mark.

Learning to Stay Present

I originally chose Ripple at the beginning of the year to remind me of the importance of the past and of the future.

But ironically, Ripple kept nudging me back into the present. It reminded me that this moment, this breath, this body is where life actually happens.

Sometimes that reminder came through my grandson and Daniel Tiger.
Sometimes it came through my own body telling me she was doing her best.
Sometimes it came simply through slowing down enough to stay awake to the small things.

When One Stone Falls Into the Water

The biggest lesson Ripple gave me was this:

One stone thrown into the water is never the end of the story.

A disagreement with “Mr. T-Shirt Man” taught me that.
Sending a letter in the mail did, too.
So did a simple yes that led to the next yes…and then one more…until a whole string of unexpected connections bloomed into life.

Sometimes we are present when the stone drops. Maybe we’re even the one dropping it. We are the ones creating the ripple that will outlast us, maybe reaching people we may never even know.

Other times we’re swept up in ripples from stones tossed by others on days, years, or even generations ago. (Like that crazy jigsaw puzzle synchronicity at the beach condo.)

A Ripple on a Monday Afternoon

I met a new friend just yesterday who reminded me of this truth.

She’s thriving now in her twenties, but not that long ago, she was a young girl trapped in an abusive situation. She came to see harm as normal. Several times, she tried to end her life because she couldn’t imagine another way out.

But beautiful humans—one by one, moment by moment—kept rippling into her world. Not always dramatically or perfectly. But with consistency and love.

Those ripples carried her to a new place of safety and hope.

She’s worked hard on her own healing, and she’s reaching back to help others heal, too, including learning more about our volunteer work, and eventually hoping to reach her dream of opening a shelter.

For a single Monday afternoon in December, our stories overlapped.
But that is long enough to create a shared ripple between us.

Sometimes that’s all it takes—a single moment, a single kindness, a single gift like a new backpack for a child starting over at a new school—to keep someone going one more day.
And then another.
And another.

Ripples Move Forward—Always Forward

Ripples don’t stay where they start. They move outward, sometimes far beyond sight.

This year reminded me to practice openture instead of closure—to stay open-handed with the stories still unfolding.

It reminded me to prepare for the future even as I honor the past, like when I hesitated to download this countdown app (I still haven’t done it) or when I found my mother’s words written 34 years ago that rippled back into my life just this year.

We carry the ripples of others.
We send out our own.
And together they light up the dark like fireflies on a summer night.

A Ripple Blessing for Year’s End

I wrote this Ripple blessing back in April, but I want to share it again—both for you and for me—as I close out this year of Ripple (even though the ripples never stop flowing).

May you be a ripple, flowing to see others that need to be seen.
May others ripple to you, gazing closer to witness your worth.

May you be a ripple with fresh ears to hear others’ words.
May others ripple to you, tuning into your voice as valuable.

May you be a ripple of gentle waves to heal those who’ve been harmed.
May others ripple to you with layers of compassion to soothe your wounds.

May you be a ripple of love to those from your past to your present.
May others ripple to you, enlarging their reach to surround you with love.

What small ripple has touched your life recently? Did you have One Word of the Year, too? If you want to choose one for 2026, here are 5 questions to help discover your word, and also 6 AI prompts to narrow down your list.

Share your thoughts in the comments.

Related Reading to Keep the Ripple Going

Here are a few of my favorite posts this year where small moments created big impact—stories that inspired me and may inspire you too:

• Do You Write in Your Calendar with Ink or Pencil? — Holding plans loosely while navigating the unknown.

• The Ripple Effect of One Yes — How one simple yes led to a string of unexpected connections.

• Learning to Disagree Better — What a moment of conflict taught me about connection and growth.

• Ripples Through Time: Reading My Mother’s Journals — Discovering how the past can ripple into the present in surprising ways.

Whether you choose a One Word every year or want to try it for the first time, here are 6 ways that AI can help you choose the right word for you in 2026.

Open your preferred AI system (I use the free version of OpenAI’s ChatGPT. Then try these prompts to see what words pop up for you.

1. If you want to choose from a list

Ask AI to generate tailored options based on what matters most to you.

Type in this prompt, adjusting it to fit your themes:

“Give me 10 possible One Words for 2026 based on the themes I want more of: connection, peace, courage, and joy.”

After getting the list, narrow the scope by asking:

“Help me score each word on flexibility of use, challenge level, and practical applicability. Create a simple decision grid.”

Why this works:
A curated list prevents overwhelm while still giving you room to explore options. The scoring step helps you narrow down your choice even easier.

2. If you want a fun and random pick

Prompt AI to create a surprise-based way to choose.

Try this:

“Give me 3 totally random One Word options for 2026 based on my birthday month, which is ____, the last picture in my camera roll, which is of ____, and what I want for dinner, which is ____. Make the words surprising but also meaningful.”

Or:

“Pick a word at random from the dictionary—but explain why it might be exactly the word I need this year.”

Why this works:
It removes the weight of picking the exact right word. An unexpected word can also spark your creativity and open doors to insights you wouldn’t have thought of otherwise.

3. If you need reflective questions for a deeper choice

Let AI act as a mirror to help you dig deeper.

Try this:

“Ask me 5 reflective questions to uncover patterns in my previous year—things like what energized me, what drained me, what I’m longing for, and what I keep avoiding. After I answer, suggest 5 possible One Words for 2026.”

Or:

“Give me journaling prompts that help reveal a theme for my next season of life, which involves ____.”

Why this works:
AI guides you to reflect on where you are in life and what you want to do next, then suggests words that align with your values.

4. If you want a future-self approach

Ask AI to create a letter from your future self, dated December 31, 2026.

Try this:

“Write a letter to the version of myself at the end of 2026, when I’ll be more ____ and less ____, telling me which word guided my year, how it shaped me, and why I’m grateful for it.”

Why this works:
Sometimes a word becomes clearer when you imagine who you’re becoming and the life you want to create with it.

5. If you’re stuck between two (or more) finalists

Use AI to help compare them head-to-head.

Try this:

“Compare these two words ____ and ____ across these dimensions: emotional resonance, energy, stretch, alignment with my current season, and practical application. Then tell me which one seems to fit best—and why.”

Why this works:
AI helps articulate more detailed differences that you might not have considered, but that might matter to you.

6. If you already have a word but want to refine it

Ask AI to help you sharpen, expand, or reframe it.

Try this:

“I’m considering the word ____. Refine it by suggesting synonyms, related concepts, and slightly softer or stronger variations. Then write 3 micro-scenarios showing what my life would look like if I lived this word in 2026.”

Or:

“Give me a test: if this is truly my word for 2026, what would I say yes to? What would I say no to?”

Why this works:
You keep the heart of your original choice but gain clarity, nuance, and confidence about how the word might guide you in the year ahead.

A Final Thought

Choosing a One Word for 2026 is a personal and reflective process that can be approached in a variety of ways—but AI can make it easier, more fun, and surprisingly insightful. Try one of these methods—or mix and match—to see what emerges. I tried several of these to help narrow down my own potential word for 2026, and was amazed at the results it gave me.

The right word might just reveal itself in a way you didn’t expect.

You can download this page as a PDF here.

Have you tried one of these AI options? Did it help you?

Share your thoughts in the comments.

Get more help for choosing your One Word:

• How Do I Find My One Word of the Year? 7 Strategies to Find the Right Word for You
  Need help finding your One Word of the Year? Here are 7 strategies for finding the right word and a list of suggested words. Plus a group to join!
• Don’t Put It Off: 5 Questions to Ask Now to Discover Your 2026 Word
  Start listening now for your One Word for 2026. Reflect with five questions to guide your choice
• Want to Join a Group for Your One Word of the Year?
  Learn more here about our community of friends who help each other stick to their One Word.

If you want to join our community, sign up here for our One Word group. You’ll receive a monthly email with ideas to practice your word and an invitation to join our private One Word Facebook group.