Many of us are energized to set new goals during this time of year, but staying invested in them is another story. I don't love the middle. Working with more folks than I ever imagined, I can report I'm far from the only person with this problem. One primary mind shift changed everything: insight—not information—is the non-negotiable starting point for taking new actions. Once we understand our why, remembering every day is our only commitment.

Perk up your ears and notice how often you hear yourself say "I'm so stupid." Most of us do it without consciousness. But there's a Self inside us that deserves recognition—one that wants a deep and meaningful conversation with us, like we do with a life partner. When we call the Self "stupid," we steal its ability to grow and learn. "Stupid" is not a real thing—it's an excuse to not be conscious and not do the work.

How often have you heard, "Life is short"? Here's the thing. If we don't meet an untimely death, if we are fortunate enough to be given a life past our 80's, then life is actually pretty long. Playing the long game is smart, but it is also the only game we should be playing. Life is a game meant to be a long one. And like any other game, a good life has rules that support our ability to play well.

I'm 55—a declaration that in and of itself feels like a radical act. Most of us have been raised to base our lives on the benchmarks of success society dictates. Underlying most of the rules is the belief that time is running out—especially for women. But here's my greatest weapon against this harmful, completely unhelpful belief: Instead of making a to-do list of all the things you're running out of time with, make a list of all the shit you don't have time for anymore.

The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. But what I've learned is closer to the truth: mothers are made, not born. Motherhood was an intellectual concept until it gradually became an experience, then an obsession. Each child made a new mother of me over time, not instantly. Mothers are the ground upon which children stand. They hold space for multitudes. They are made from their children's gaze, smile, triumphs, and failures. Mothers are made—over and over again.

Recently, I wrote a blog about tradeoffs. I expected it to be a sleeper blog—one I found deeply important but not likely to generate much excitement. To my surprise, it struck a nerve with many readers and listeners. The most common response? People wanted to know if I could share more ways to become a true “Master of Tradeoffs.”

President Kennedy borrowed a phrase from Irish writer Frank O'Connor about throwing your hat over a wall—leaving yourself choiceless in doing whatever it took to mount it. This powerful story about commitment has guided nations and individuals alike to pursue audacious goals. The question becomes: What life goal are you willing to toss your hat over?

Most people can't wait to share support. But if you're rushing in to fix, rescue, please, or preach, you're thinking more about yourself than the person seeking help. The No Frapping agreement—which stands for no Fixing, Rescuing, Apologizing, Pleasing, or Preaching—is counterintuitive and uncomfortable. But it's what actually allows you to be useful and helpful. Before you speak to someone in vulnerability, ask: Am I trying to fix this? Or truly serve this person?

Years ago, one of the first principles I learned from my coach, Steve Chandler, was to transform expectations into agreements. This practice shifted my life from disappointments and resentments to one of ease and lightness. Strong words, I know. But true. Most of us, without realizing it, live inside expectations most of the time.

When did the word "change" become a negative thing? So many of us fight, resist, and are averse to change in ourselves and others. The most effective tool to achieve robust relationships is skillful communication. But fear of communicating is more difficult to get past than learning the skill itself. Top of the list: fear of being told we've changed. It seems illogical to expect everything about our personalities and relationships to stay the same over time.

Professional life coaching is an interesting career with low barriers to entry, but higher barriers to success than most fields. While some uncertified coaches thrive, many with years of schooling and certification don't earn a comfortable living. The key difference? Being transformative and creating measurable, life-changing results for clients.

One of the main reasons people seek a Professional Life Coach is to become better at time management. It seems like an unconquerable Hydra. But tools are the low hanging fruit of this work. My clients are sick of hearing me talk about turning pro with their calendar because they've already come to understand the fundamental truth: time management is emotional management. We all have the same number of hours in a day.

Tradeoffs are something we are forever at odds with. They are as much a fact of life as gravity, yet we seem unable to come to terms with them. For most of us, the word carries a negative connotation, living in the same unwelcome neighborhood as sacrifice, compromise, and other things that, at best, are tolerated but never welcomed.

The chance to live a second life is nothing less than a privilege. I don't mean a second chapter, I mean, the opportunity to live a life that feels brand new. At 56, I have already started climbing what David Brooks calls our "Second Mountain." It's an entirely different effort with views that can be spectacular, only if we don't compare it to the First Mountain.

Even if a coach has a niche, every client is still unique. They may benefit from similar lessons, but each requires a tool made just for them. That tool often arises from the coach’s own gifts and passions. Mine is “Mothering”—a thread running through my coaching, whether I’m guiding a young woman into adulthood or a man in his sixties toward growth.

I'm often asked how I became an ultrarunner, and the short answer is, "One step at a time." The deeper answer has something to do with loss and humility. I was a runner for years, applying my "hard-charging and no prisoners" mindset to everything. Until my body crashed. Loss and humility don't always go hand-in-hand, but they did for me. When we make the shift from being an accidental anything to a deliberate something, our growth is often exponential.

Our life is the sum of our choices. Decisions decide direction. But most people don't realize there are at least three distinct ways intelligent, educated, and caring people make decisions: Hummingbirds use mental models and psychology. Hawks decide based on what's morally right. Flamingoes consider what others think. Your default isn't the only way. Understanding these three mindsets is the key to making better decisions and developing deeper compassion for why others decide differently.

Every effort we make at communicating stems from one of two mindsets: we are either aiming for connection or for control. Communicating from control is always a bad idea. While you might win the battle, you will surely lose the war—the battle being the subject of discussion, and war being the trust and connection in the relationship. Learn the 7 ways to identify if you're aiming for connection, and transform your communication forever.

For most of my adult life, I’ve worshipped at the altar of Optimization. My motto has always been “Faster and Better”—the question being, “How can I optimize this moment to reach my goal sooner?” If you follow my work, you’re likely a growth-minded learner aware of mortality who wants every moment to count.

When I dreamed about becoming a Professional Coach at mid-life, I assumed I'd have to start at zero. Three decades in luxury retail seemed irrelevant—an obstacle, even. All my focus was on who I needed to become, what I needed to learn, which coaching school to attend. I couldn't have been more mistaken. A decade later, I know for sure: nobody cared about my certifications. They only cared about two questions: "Can I trust you?" and "Can you help me?" Those superpowers were already mine.