I’ve been feeling a bit vulnerable lately – identities, perspectives, habits, all seem to be in flux. Like a molting lobster, whose shell becomes too small and falls away, whose new exoskeleton is still forming.
Three years ago today, I made a quiet decision that created profound change: I stopped consuming alcohol. For years, alcohol had been part of my daily rhythm. A cocktail to “unwind,” wine to “enhance the meal.”
I admit with equal parts embarrassment and excitement that I recently learned something new—from Chatty Cathy, my AI writing partner. What started as a playful experiment has become a true creative collaboration.
This week, I found myself on the old and familiar path of avoidance. Ironically, it started while working on a talk about negativity bias—our brain’s default toward fear and protection when faced with uncertainty.
This past week, the cherry blossoms have been calling to me. Images and memories from time spent in D.C. stir up something deep—like a soft, sweet ache, delicious and almost heartbreaking at the same time.
We’ve all been there—the moment before stepping into the audition or pitch room, clicking send on the email, making the call, or hitting post on something that matters. The moment when we’re putting ourselves out there, hoping to be cast in a role that aligns with our deepest passions and purpose.
A grandfather tells his grandson that inside each of us, two wolves battle—one represents fear, anger, envy, and resentment, while the other embodies love, kindness, gratitude, and peace.
This past week, I heard an engaging keynote on accountability—especially what it means in this age of AI, where change is constant. One challenge posed was: “Are you results-oriented or explanation-oriented?”
Recently, I was reflecting on authenticity—first, being true to ourselves by staying connected to who we are and how we are. Then, bringing that authenticity into our interactions, which inevitably brings up issues of transparency, honesty, trust, and safety.
Neuropsychologist Rick Hanson describes how our brains hold onto negative experiences like Velcro, while positive ones slide off like Teflon. Blame evolution. Our ancient ancestors had to be on high alert—spotting threats and remembering dangers was essential for survival.