Tag: love

creativity

My Word for 2026 is Momentum

Christa Avampato
A cinematic back-view of a person wearing a long, flowing red cloak, walking through a sun-drenched forest. They hold a blue and white patterned umbrella as the light filters through the trees, creating a warm, misty glow. The red fabric of the cloak billows out behind them, capturing a sense of graceful movement.
Finding the Moment in Momentum. Photo by Ani Kolleshi on Unsplash

Happy New Year! Each year I select a word to guide my thoughts and actions. In 2025, I chose Rebuild. Now, with that foundation, I’m ready to scale the efforts I’ve loved most.

2026 at a Glance:

  • The Word: Momentum (finding the moment within the movement).
  • The Focus: Scaling NYC’s Secrets & Lies, adopting a heart dog, and publishing in a dream publication.
  • The Goal: Moving from “rebuilding” to intentional acceleration in community, health, and creativity.

Within the word “Momentum” is the word “Moment”. That’s where I want to be in 2026 – in the moment, in every moment. I want to focus on my lived experience each day.

Even with all the challenges and difficulties in the world, in 2025 I found ways to build community through longer tables and creative projects that inspire wonder and curiosity. It’s made me so happy to reflect on that and think about how that can continue in 2026.

Here are some of the areas that interest me most. What are you thinking of in 2026?

Storytelling

I am beyond thrilled that my show NYC’s Secrets & Lies is back and that so many lovely people have filled out audience and graced the stage with their knowledge and humor. This show encapsulates so many things I love: storytelling, a celebration of NYC, history, laughter, and awe. I know how lucky I am to call this city home and I love nothing more than sharing all the wild stories of our collective past that still exists on every street. I’ve also made some of my very best friends because of this show, and those relationships have saved and transformed my life.

We started doing location-based shows with partners in 2025, the dream I always had, and I can’t wait to create more of those immersive environments for our audiences in 2026. Our show at the Seaport Museum was a huge success and they were wonderful to work with so I’m hoping we can do more projects together.

We’re already working on some fun plans during this very momentous year in our city’s history to celebrate:

  • NYC’s 400th anniversary
  • The country’s 250th anniversary
  • 100th anniversary of Houdini‘s death on Halloween (yep – he was a New Yorker!)
  • National Pet Adoption Week in March
  • Our first outdoor show in April with Natural Areas Conservancy for Earth Day
  • Climate Week shows in San Francisco (nature in the San Francisco area) and in NYC (NYC food history)

A few things we’re considering in addition to our shows:

  • Free field trips where a group of us go to an interesting location in NYC and learn about its history
  • Reading club on historical topics
  • Potluck dinners with historical recipes
  • Entering the Great Borough Bake-off at Museum of the City of New York

Dogs

In January 2024, I lost my soul dog, Phineas, after 13 1/2 years together.2024 was a painful year. Sometimes I could barely breathe because the grief was so heavy. It was the worst grief I’ve ever felt. At the very end of 2024 and through 2025, I fostered 10 dogs through Muddy Paws Rescue and became an active volunteer with the organization. I never imagined I would become as involved as I am. More than anything else I’ve done, fostering and volunteering to save shelter dogs has helped me heal. I still miss Phinny every single day. I will miss him every day for the rest of my life.

2025 taught me how to carry the grief of losing Phinny and the joy of rescuing other dogs like him. He never left me, not really. I feel his spirit with me always. There are, sadly, so many shelter dogs who need forever homes. In 2026, I want to get even more involved with helping more shelter dogs. I don’t know exactly what that looks like yet.

I am ready to adopt my heart dog and especially excited to go through therapy dog training with them. My hope is that we’ll become a certified team so we can visit chemo patients and participate in library programs where kids read to dogs.

Writing

At the end of 2025, I pitched an article to my dream publication and they accepted it! This is the good news I hinted at yesterday—I’m so thrilled to finally share it. I’m working on the piece right now and will share it once it’s published.

I spent 2025 further honing my writing skills in different genres and formats, and now I’m excited to put more of it out into the world in more publications and platforms. I learn so much as a writer by reading, and I’m trying to read more books and better track the books I read in a fun analog way.

Learning

2025 brought me many opportunities to learn new skills and grow my areas of expertise. Some of them came through work and many of them I explored on my own. I continued my language learning and I want to build on that in the new year. I signed up for Masterclass again because a few of their courses caught my eye and there was a massive 50% off sale for the new year. My interests vary widely so a platform like Masterclass is perfect for me. I loved their programs that I took a few years ago so I’m excited to dive back into it. I’d also like to find more opportunities to learn alongside others.

Nature

In 2025, I graduated with my Master’s in Sustainability Leadership at University of Cambridge. That was an enormous personal and professional accomplishment. I fulfilled my dream of studying abroad with the most incredible group of people who inspire me every day.

I had hoped to transition my full-time work into climate but political circumstances being what they are in the U.S., that didn’t happen. Through writing my Togetherhood newsletter, storytelling, and advocacy work, I’ve been able to be involved with the climate community and aid collective efforts. In 2026, I’d like to explore more ways that I can help even if my full-time work is not rooted in sustainability. Sometimes, dreams take longer than we’d like. The route isn’t as clear as we planned. The planet needs tending, and in 2026 I want to find opportunities to use what I have where I am to be useful.

Travel

In 2025, I finally got to Italy and Scandinavia, two places that have been on my list for some time. In June, I’ll skip back across the pond to reunite with my Cambridge classmates in London for our now-annual get-together. I’m already looking forward to that. I also decided to plan more weekends away. That’s something I don’t typically do. I’m not sure why I’ve not planned that more often – maybe because I love NYC so much and there is always a lot to do here.

In 2026, I’m going to make the effort to explore more and visit more friends who live outside of NYC. I’m hoping to finally get to Asia, another area of the world I’ve not yet visited.

Home and Finance

I’m very lucky to have a stable living situation after years of being a market-rate renter in a city that is insanely expensive. I love my Brooklyn neighborhood and my apartment. In 2025, I crunched the numbers many times and it didn’t make financial sense to buy a place of my own because of the deal I have in my place now and the soaring interest rates and downpayment requirements. I’ll continue to keep an eye on that in 2026 to see if anything changes. In the meantime, I’m working closely with my financial planner to save for a home down the line. I’m also refreshing my space with some new design touches.

Love
Dating apps did not bring me joy in 2025. Even the mechanics of them are off-putting to me. I know they work for lots of people, so I’ve not abandoned them completely. I’d like to put myself in situations to meet more people who share my interests, and maybe that will also include a partner who is as wonderful as my friends. That’s the only kind of partner I’m interested in having. It’s worth trying. At the very least, I’ll meet interesting people who become friends.

Health

And finally, my health is the basis of all my dreams. It’s really true that health is the first wealth. I learned a lot in 2025 about medicine, nutrition, exercise, and the value of rest. I healed from a few injuries and in the process learned how to better care for my body. In 2026, I’d like to refocus on more meditation – that’s a practice I fell away from in 2025 and I always feel better when it’s part of my routine. I experimented a lot with new recipes, and loved the art and eating of cooking and baking. I want to continue that and invite more people to have meals with me in my home.

2025 marked 5 years since my cancer diagnosis and I’m grateful for my restored health. In 2026, I’ll mark 5 years since the end of active treatment and finish taking one of my medications that may also lead to a change in another of my medications. While these are all positive changes, I’m always wary of new meds and med changes because of past experiences I’ve had. I’m exploring ways to support myself in that process – maybe through acupuncture, saunas, and other holistic modalities.

Some closing thoughts

2025 saw a lot of upheaval and pain around the world. Through donations to and volunteering with organizations doing work, I was able to help others and that is something I will always continue to do. Improving the lives of all beings and the planet has to happen as a collective, and I’m looking forward to using my good health, resources, and skills to further cultivate community and cheer loudly for others in 2026.

Happy New Year. I’m glad we’re here together. Long may that continue.

What is one area where you’re looking to find momentum this year?

creativity

My winter wish

Christa Avampato
The moon and the stars through the trees. Image by Christa Avampato.

Tonight, as we usher in the longest night of 2025, may we give ourselves the permission and grace to rest. Yes, the light begins to return slowly and surely as we move forward. But before us tonight lies the gift of darkness.

It is a time for dreaming, for reflecting, for remembering. It allows the light to shine brightest—from stars, from the moon, and from the people around us. Just as stars require the dark to be seen, we often find the best in others and ourselves during the darkest times. When confronted with difficulty, we rise to help each other.

We cannot get through this life alone. Relationships are the center of everything. Love is the center of everything.

This winter, I wish you peace. As the daylight grows, I hope the light within you and the light within me grows, too.

creativity

The 4.5-Mile Walk: What Cancer Taught Me About Resilience and Love

Christa Avampato
Me at Macy’s in NYC 5 years ago, right after my second surgery

Five years ago, I was marching from the subway to NYU hospital for yet another surgery—two weeks after a bilateral mastectomy—with the high-stakes knowledge that if cancer cells were hiding in my body, my surgeon was going in to find them. This photo memory, which Google popped up yesterday, was taken right after I left the hospital and showcases the hope I felt that day.

I had this second surgery because the lymph nodes that biopsied negative for cancer came back positive in the pathology. Out of an abundance of caution, my surgeon said she wanted to remove all the lymph nodes under my left arm to see if any of those axillary nodes were positive. (She removed all the lymph nodes under my right arm during my mastectomy, and they were all negative, thankfully.) If any nodes under my left arm were positive, that would mean the cancer could have spread. This also meant that I would be at risk of lymphedema (swelling) not only in my right arm but now in my left arm as well. 

My surgeon was devastated that this happened to me. She said, “I hate that every time you come into my office it’s a horror show. I keep pulling the rug out from under you. But I promise you this – if there’s cancer in you, I’m going in there to get it.”

While I was disappointed to have another surgery so soon and with such high stakes in the outcome, I wasn’t nervous. My surgeon’s confidence in her abilities gave me confidence in mine. I marched from the subway to NYU hospital that morning, ready for battle. I felt powerful and strong, like a warrior. I remember thinking, “Cancer, if you’re hiding in me, we’re coming for you. You can’t hide from us.”

I woke up quickly in the recovery room after surgery, completely alert and sobbing. Crying is a common reaction from anesthesia. The nurse was concerned I was crying with worry. I explained I was crying with relief and gratitude. A wave of peace washed over me: whatever the final pathology report said, we had done everything we could.

My sister came to pick me up, and she said, “What do you want to do?” I said, “I want to go for a walk.” 

We walked to Macy’s to see the Christmas decorations – that’s where she took this picture of me. Then we walked home to get my dog at doggy daycare and back home to my Upper West Side apartment. It was a total of 4 1/2 miles. Those twinkling lights, the love from my sister, and that long walk made me believe that against all odds, I’d be okay. 

We waited for a week for the results. I should have been panicked waiting for the results of the surgery. Again, I wasn’t nervous. We’d done everything we could. The results would be the results. 

While we waited, my sister and I watched every episode of The Great British Baking Show. I took naps. We walked my dog. Friends called, brought food, and sent care packages. I knew my sister was scared. She was making plans to stay with me longer, preparing for the worst.

My surgeon’s nurse practitioner called me a week later. There was a delay in the results because the lab was backed up. She was so upset I was waiting this long, and I told her, “Don’t worry. I’m not worried.”

She called me back 10 minutes later. I could hear her crying. The results were in. All the lymph nodes were negative. No sign of cancer. 

I did have some evidence of cancer cells in my breast tissue trying to escape to the rest of my body (this is called “vascular invasion”). With the mastectomy, we’d stopped them in their tracks. Still, with vascular invasion, chemo was recommended for me by a panel of oncologists that my team had consulted, not only at NYU, but at top cancer institutes across the country. So, chemo would start in a month, just before Christmas. 

Though I didn’t know at the time that the coming chemo treatments would nearly kill me twice, in that moment, standing at the precipice of a new fight, I was simply and profoundly grateful for my surgeon, the dream that drove me to get tested in the first place, my sister and friends, my dog, and every breath I took.

Last week on another long walk, I went by Macy’s on my way to meet friends for dinner. How far I’ve come since that long walk five years ago. Their theme this year of “Give Love” is spread across the outside of the building in bright lights. I smiled at those words because 5 years ago cancer showed me that giving love is the secret of life. To love and be loved in return, in all the ways love shows up in this world and in our lives, is a gift beyond measure. It’s a gift I give and receive in greater amounts every day, everywhere I go. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.

creativity

Ready for my next chapter of ‘Happily Ever After’

Christa Avampato
Ready for Happily Ever After!

The search for my Heart Dog is officially on! 🐾 This week, I filled out adoption registration forms with several amazing local rescue groups. NYC has so many wonderful rescue organizations! I know one of them is going to have the perfect pup for me to adopt.

Muddy Paws Rescue NYC is of course high on the list because I’ve fostered 10 dogs with them over the last year. Every Last One Rescue, Animal Care Centers of NYC (ACC), and North Shore Animal League America are a few of the others I’m monitoring every day for new additions!

This week I also spent time getting clear on the criteria for my Heart Dog. I’m looking for a doggo who is friendly with people and dogs, enjoys long walks, and loves going on adventures around the city. I’d love to adopt a pup who is a New Yorker already.

I’m very interested in having a dog who would be suitable for therapy dog training—a confident and joyful spirit who’s ready to give and receive love.

Phineas, my Soul Dog, was a dachshund so I’m partial to that breed though that’s not a requirement. Ideally, a dog that fits comfortably in a carrier for easy city travel would be great, but I’m ready to fall in love with a larger dog, too. I hope Phinny will guide me to the dog who’s meant for me.

Send me all your good adoption vibes. I’m ready for the search and I’m excited to share the journey with you!

creativity

Remembering my soul dog, Phineas, on October 27th

Christa Avampato

Today, October 27th, is a special day—it’s the day to honor the spirits of deceased pets as part of the Día de los Muertos tradition. And of course I’m thinking of Phineas, my soul dog, the dog who made me who I am. My constant companion. My forever teacher.

Phinny and I had thirteen and a half beautiful years together and he was there for me through some of the most trying times of my life. He taught me about unconditional love, patience, loyalty, and how to embrace joy, even in the midst of sorrow. His spirit has never left me, not for a second. And he never will. I keep a year-round ofrenda for him in our home where I say good morning and good night to him every day. Today it feels especially important to remember his life and the incredible bond we share that we will have always.

If you’re going through the pain of loss, please know that our beloveds never leave us. Happy Día de los Muertos, Phinny. I’m happy you’re still with me, still guiding me, still loving me, still teaching me. I am the luckiest to be your mama. ❤️

creativity

How I keep going when things don’t work out

Christa Avampato
Flourless lemon zucchini cake from https://courtneyrecipes.com/

This week was filled with more than its fair share of disappointments: a few people I trusted let me down; the heavy emotional challenge of having a foster pup who not only isn’t happy to see me when I get home but who actively runs away from me because of the tough life he’s had is a painful circumstance for both of us; opportunities that I hoped would work out and didn’t despite my best efforts.

Of course there were bright spots this week, too: NYC’s Secrets & Lies, my storytelling show on the 28th, sold out and I’ve hit upon a great ghost story to tell; I had a great conversation about the show with a podcast host I admire; I was finally able to get supportive meds for my foster pup so both of us could get a full night’s sleep; I read, researched, and wrote about topics that matter to me.

Also, this month is my 5-year cancer-free anniversary so really that far outweighs any disappointment life will ever throw at me. I looked death in the eye and didn’t flinch, multiple times. A few disappointments? I’ll take ’em!

After a long work meeting this afternoon for a new project I’m about to begin, I walked home through Green-Wood Cemetery. The sun on my face and the scent of autumn leaves felt like a gift. It occurred to me that the challenges I’ve had this week are pointing me in the direction I’m meant to go. The universe is closing some doors so that the path for me to take going forward is clear.

Over the past year I’ve felt a bit stuck and unsure of which way to go, and so I’ve waited – hoping some insights would emerge. While I prefer insights with positive outcomes, learning where not to spend my time and effort is also valuable. It just doesn’t feel as good when the revelation arrives. I put a lot of effort into making plans and when those plans don’t work, it can feel discouraging.

Looking back on my life, the best things that happened to me aren’t things I planned. They were opportunities that found me and that I grabbed with both hands because they were even better than what I had planned. Maybe this week has again taught me to be open to possibility, to change, to growth. Maybe there’s some even more wonderful than I could ever imagine just up ahead, around the bend, and what I need to do to find it is to keep going.

In the meantime, I made myself a sunny bake – something I often do when I don’t know what to do. This week my lovely friend, Stephanie, posted a recipe for zucchini lemon cake and I gave it a whirl. Fuel for the sweet journey ahead.

creativity

The happy-sad of old grief

Christa Avampato
Phinny’s cherry blossoms in Central Park on May 2, 2025. Photo by me.

Unexpected laptop issues brought me into the office on Friday afternoon. Our wonderful IT department got my laptop fixed and then I popped down to see my friend whom I work for to have a conversation about a number of different topics. It lasted a couple of hours – much longer than I expected! – so it was the end of the work day by the time we finished up.

Though it was a hot and sticky afternoon, I was close to Central Park. The weather has been a bit of a mess on the weekends so my friend, Ashley, and I didn’t get to see Phinny’s cherry blossoms together this year. I decided to venture up to the park’s reservoir to see what was left of them and walk the path that Phinny and I walked so many times over our years together.

As I wound my way through the park from Central Park South to 86th Street, memories lived around every bend. Picnics. Concerts. Softball games. Walks and talks. Museums. Some tears and moments of sadness. That’s the stuff of every life – joy and difficulty.

I passed by my favorite tree in the park, a great hulking beauty perfect for sitting and watching the world go by. The Pinetum that Phinny loved to nose around in. The apartment on 81st street perched high above the American Museum of Natural History that Phineas and I always thought would be the dream apartment for us to live in. The archways that always feel like portals. Inspirations for my Emerson Page books. Central Park holds all of it.

Though the cherry blossoms around the reservoir were a bit past their prime, Phinny’s spirit and I didn’t care. It’s such a beautiful part of the park and we spent so many happy days there. Some blossoms were still blooming. The petals were pooled around the tree trunks – how Phinny loved to scoop up those petals with his prominent snoot, just like my friend, Ashley, showed in the watercolor of him she made for me! On the rare occasion that Phinny and I would sit under those trees – he and I are much more into exploring than sitting – he’d look at me with his big soulful eyes and happy smile. Then after a few moments, he’d try to wander over to someone else’s blanket to invite himself to their picnic and see what they had on offer. What a hound!

My eyes teared up and I laughed thinking of all his antics. I was happy-sad. So grateful for every single one of those memories and so sad that our time together in that way has passed.

That’s the thing about grief: if we’re lucky, it always stings at least a little. We never get over missing someone we love. Thankfully, the world conspires to keep them close to us, memories everywhere and signs in everything.

Photos below from my walk through Central Park.

creativity

Saying goodbye to foster dog, Harold

Christa Avampato
Harold at my home

This is Harold, a sweet, gentle senior dog who I watched overnight. He had a vet appointment the next morning and his full-time foster wasn’t able to take him so I offered to help.

When he arrived, I fed him his dinner. He was still hungry so I made him some chicken and rice, which he happily gobbled up. He was so incredibly sweet and trusting.

I walked into my bedroom at one point and Harold followed me. He went right to my full-length mirror and inspected himself. I felt like he was telling me he was seeing a younger version of himself.

I was up all night with Harold. He was restless, anxious, and confused, walking back and forth between his food bowl and the front door. He had some pain in his back legs and the meds didn’t seem to help. Sometimes, he walked in circles. His behavior reminded me of Phinny’s end stages. I tried getting him to lay down, taking him for multiple walks throughout the night, putting him in his crate. Nothing worked. He was so uncomfortable and I felt terribly for him. I asked Phinny if he could help me figure out what to do to help Harold.

At one point, I nodded off in the middle of the night. I had a dream about Phinny. He was standing in front of an empty food bowl, just staring at me with sad eyes. When I jolted awake, I was afraid something was terribly wrong. I looked in my kitchen and Harold was hovering over his food bowl. Then, I understood what Phinny was telling me: Harold was ready to cross the rainbow bridge. I got Harold to sit down next to me for a bit. I stroked his soft, curly fur and tried to soothe him with my words. He was telling me it was his time.

The watercolor of a dachshund at the vet’s office

Morning arrived. I got ready and then walked to the subway with Harold. He was an absolute champ on the train. When we got to the vet, we had a short wait. In the lobby there was a watercolor print of a dachshund. I knew Phinny was with us.

The nurses did an intake and asked me some questions. I explained I’d just had him for one night and told her what I observed. As I watched Harold walk away with the nurse, he looked exhausted and worn out. My eyes welled up. I’d only had him for 16 hours and yet I felt like I’d known him much longer. I was afraid I might not see him again.

I texted with his foster and another rescue volunteer. We were talking about him having fospice (foster hospice) vibes. She said he’d improved some since he’d been with her. I gave her a rundown of everything I observed while he was with me.

The vet messaged me a few hours later that Harold was ready to get picked up. I went to get him since his full-time foster couldn’t get there before the vet closed. They wouldn’t give me any info directly about his check-up. He looked about the same to me. We walked back to the subway to go home and wait for his foster mom. Again, he was a star subway rider with perfect manners. As we walked home, he seemed to be giving me the same message: It was his time.

When we got home, he drank a whole bowl of water, and had a full plate of chicken and rice. He was so hungry from having to fast for his vet appointment. Then for the first time since he arrived at my house, he curled up in Phinny’s bed. Another sign that it was time.

Harold’s foster mom arrived at my apartment soon after Harold laid down. I got him up and we went outside. His foster wasn’t convinced that it was his time yet. He had improved so much since he’d been with her and she thought what I observed was just anxiety about being in a new home. I knew it was something more, and said so. I had to advocate for him.

His foster messaged me that night about some of the symptoms he was now exhibiting. She was seeing now what I saw. She messaged me again the following morning. The rescue made the painful decision to help Harold cross the rainbow bridge.

My eyes welled up again. I knew it was the right decision for Harold and still, I was heartbroken. I’m grateful he didn’t die alone on the streets or in a crowded shelter. He left this world surrounded by people who loved him. He got to go with dignity.

Run free, sweet Harold. I sent Phinny to meet you and show you around your new forever. Thank you for giving me the honor of looking after you when you needed me most. Thank you for trusting me to be your advocate. I will never forget you.

creativity

Marking the one year anniversary since my soul dog, Phineas, passed away

Christa Avampato
The last photo I took of Phinny before I rushed him to the ER 4 hours later.

Dear Phinny,
Today marks one year since I held you. One year since I felt the weight of your perfect body in my arms. One year since I kissed your forehead between your sweet honey eyes. And yet, you have never left me. Not really. Your spirit has been with me every day. Your ashes sit on your ofrenda, next to your portrait and photograph, toys, food bowl, sweater, harness, collar, and leash. The last bed you slept in and the last blanket you rested your head on are exactly where they were the last time I saw you peacefully resting in them.

I still talk to you every day. I ask you for help and guidance. I tell you I love you before I go to sleep and when I wake up. You have visited me in my dreams and showed me around your home across the rainbow bridge. The forest, the beach, the mountains. We’ve gone hiking together there. You are happy and healthy and youthful. You are living now, forever, as you did during your best days with me.

And still, what I wouldn’t give for one more day, one more hour. Something I will never get and always want. I know I did the best I could for you, and it never feels like it was enough. I know you don’t feel that way, that you have always continued to love me, even at my most imperfect moments. I’m still trying to forgive myself for making that terrible that decision a year ago.

Though I didn’t think it would be possible, I love you and miss you more today than I did a year ago when we said goodbye. The grief of losing you is even heavier now; you have helped me get stronger so that I am better able to carry it. The joy I have for all the years we spent together is also greater; you have helped me become even more grateful for our bond. You are and always will be my soul dog. I was meant for you, and you were meant for me.

In your honor, I’m fostering dogs who need help and love to heal. I know you’re working your magic behind-the-scenes, and we’re doing this together. I know you will always be looking out for me, just as you always did when you were here in your physical form. And as crazy as it sounds, I know when you’re ready you will find a way to infuse a ray of your bright, shiny spirit into another dog who will find their way to me. I will take one look at that dog and know. I trust the process. I trust you. That will never change. Our love story continues now, and always.

Love forever,
Your Mom

creativity

In 2025, I’m rebuilding

Christa Avampato
Photo by Mike Erskine on Unsplash

Each year I choose a word to live by. In 2024, my word was vulnerability. In 2025, my word is rebuild. To rebuild and do work with our whole heart is to be utterly vulnerable. The two go hand-in-hand. Our greatest work begins once we’re able to be completely vulnerable, giving voice to our deepest dreams knowing we may never reach them and trying anyway because it’s what we’re called to do.

I’ve been thinking about the Mary Oliver quote, “Listen, are you breathing a little and calling it a life?” Sometimes, I’ve done exactly that because I didn’t feel ready, or I was missing something I thought I needed to move forward. I have notebooks full of ideas and dreams that I want to get to “someday”. I’ve decided that someday is today, and this year I’m going to be open to all those words I’ve written for years taking shape. I don’t need more time, money, experience, or training. I need to give my dreams everything I’ve already got. Some will work out and some won’t, and that’s okay. I’ll be a better person for giving those dreams a fighting chance to become real.

2024 often felt like a dark season for me. Maybe it was for you, too. I tried to climb out of it and into the light until I was exhausted. So, I sat in the dark. It wasn’t comfortable but it was necessary. The darkness always has something to teach us, and this is what it taught me: we can only find our way out of the darkness and into the light if we journey together.

My 2025 will primarily be about building community, seeking out advice, trying something, iterating, and trying again, supporting others, and lifting them up as I rise. I’m most interested in being the most generous person in the room, the best listener, and the most collaborative partner. Our world needs so much love, kindness, and healing, and we have to be there for each other, especially when the going gets tough.

2024 taught me that progress isn’t permanent. It needs protection. 2025 will test our resolve, values, and strength. We’ll be called to have courage in the face of intense adversity. What’s on the line is bigger than any of us can face alone; we have to face it together. In 2025, you’ll find me rebuilding bridges and longer tables, publishing writing that ignites curiosity, wonder, and a sense of belonging, and creating spaces, products, and experiences that provide safety, comfort, and care for all beings. I hope you’ll join me for this adventure because I’d love to share it with you.