2026 Week 02 Update

It’s the second week of January, and it’s the time when New Year’s resolutions typically start to slacken. So my advice to you all is to stay the course. Try and stay with your resolutions for January, and you’ll soon see it becoming second nature.

Today’s quote by Marie Ray, a writer and poet whose work often explored themes of presence, creativity, and the urgency of living authentically, is a gentle but firm reminder of life’s urgency. It speaks to how easily we postpone the things that matter, convincing ourselves there will be more time later. More clarity. More courage. A better moment. Ray cuts through that illusion. There is no endless runway ahead of us. There is only now. The quote balances beauty with truth. Calling the present moment “sparkling like a star” reminds us how precious and alive it is. At the same time, describing it as “melting like a snowflake” highlights how fleeting it can be. The moment you notice it, it’s already slipping away. This isn’t meant to create panic, but awareness. When you truly grasp how temporary each moment is, procrastination starts to feel costly.

Ray isn’t asking for reckless action or dramatic leaps. She’s pointing toward honest movement. Start where you are. Do the small version of the thing you keep delaying. Write the first paragraph. Make the call. Say the truth. Choose the life-aligned option instead of the safe one. Waiting for certainty often becomes a way of avoiding responsibility for our own happiness. At its core, the quote is about presence and courage. When you act now, you honour both the fragility and the brilliance of being alive. You stop living as though time is guaranteed and start living as though this moment matters. Because it does.

Life is ongoing, and while 2025 did not end the way I hoped it would, 2026 has begun with hope and the promise of a better year. GG has started her internship and is thriving in her chosen field. This is a graduation requirement, but she still has a few courses that she will take this semester. BB is at home, trying to figure out what he wants to do next. He is also applying for university and will get his driver’s license while waiting.

Today’s verse slices straight through comparison culture. The Gita makes it clear: you can win someone else’s race and still lose your life’s meaning. Your dharma isn’t your job title, your résumé, or your social status. It’s your inner compass, your natural blend of talents, tendencies, and temperament. When you imitate someone else’s path because it looks safer, shinier, or socially approved, you lose the steady foundation that comes from authenticity. Imitation always carries anxiety, because you’re operating with borrowed choices.

Following your own path, even clumsily, is the only route to growth that actually transforms you. Imperfection becomes a teacher, not a threat. Fear dissolves because you’re not pretending anymore. This verse is a reminder that your life is not supposed to look like anyone else’s timeline. Your dharma is not mass-produced. It is handcrafted by your story, your struggles, and your strengths. Live it. Even messily, especially messily. That’s where real progress begins.

And in the same vein, the light within you can never be extinguished. This inner source of power guides you through even the darkest moments of your life, allowing you to choose love and trust over fear. On the days you feel lost, remind yourself that this light is your constant source of strength, and nothing can ever take away what lives at your core. You have the power to endure and rise after even the fiercest storms. No setback or obstacle has the power to keep you from what is inherently yours. What belongs to you cannot be lost; it will always come back to you.

With those words, here’s to a beautiful second half of January!

 2026 Week 01 Update

Happy New Year! Here’s to a year of new opportunities, adventures, and memories that last a lifetime. May 2026 be our best year yet.

The week between Christmas and the New Year always feels a bit funny, especially when the holidays come in the middle of the week. I keep thinking that it’s the weekend, and then the weekend comes in, and I am thrown out of balance.

This week’s quote is from former Canadian professional ice hockey player Reggie Leach, nicknamed The Riverton Rifle. His quote today reflects the relentless drive and self-motivation that defined his career and is a blunt, no-nonsense take on what achievement actually requires. It strips away the fantasy that success just happens to lucky people at the right moment. There’s no magic spark from the outside. The fire has to start within you. Leach is talking about intentional intensity. Success demands commitment, urgency, and emotional investment. You don’t drift into meaningful outcomes. You choose them. You show up when motivation is low. You keep going when progress feels slow. Setting yourself on fire isn’t about burnout or reckless obsession. It’s about deciding that what you’re pursuing matters enough to deserve your full energy and attention. 

The quote also calls out passivity. Waiting for the perfect time, the perfect conditions, or external validation is just another way of delaying responsibility. Leach reminds us that effort precedes momentum. Passion often follows action, not the other way around. When you act with purpose, belief and confidence grow alongside it. There’s also an implied warning here: success without effort is usually shallow and short-lived. The things we work hardest for tend to shape us the most. The discipline, resilience, and self-trust built along the way become part of the reward. You don’t just reach success; you become someone capable of sustaining it.

One of my goals for 2026, among other things, is to read the Bhagavad Gita. I do not know Sanskrit, so I will read an English translation. I will also share interesting verses from the book each week. Part of the epic, the Mahabharata, the Bhagavad Gita is not a religious rulebook; it’s a philosophical conversation about how to live when life feels complicated. One can think of the book as an ancient self-inquiry guide that blends psychology, ethics, and practical philosophy. It takes place during a crisis. One person is overwhelmed by fear, doubt, and moral confusion. The other doesn’t judge or command; he listens, questions, and offers perspective. The setting happens to be a battlefield, but the struggle is deeply internal.

Today’s quote is my favourite from the epic. When I used to work full-time, I always had this verse pinned to my desk. This verse is the heartbeat of the Gita’s philosophy of purposeful living. Krishna isn’t telling Arjuna, or us, to stop caring about life. He’s telling us to stop clinging to outcomes we can’t control. When we obsess over results, fear creeps in. Fear of failure, fear of judgment, fear of not being good enough. That fear doesn’t produce excellence; it produces hesitation. By shifting attention from “What will I get from this?” to “How can I show up fully for this?” we step into our real power. We work with clarity instead of anxiety. We move with intention instead of desperation. When you detach from results, you aren’t becoming aloof; you’re becoming free. Free to experiment, free to fail, free to evolve. And ironically, people who operate this way often produce better outcomes because their minds aren’t hijacked by worry. The deeper message? Life is a partnership. You are responsible for the effort. Life handles the rest. Your job is to sow, water, and nourish. Whether the seed blossoms today or ten seasons later is not your burden to hold.

And I haven’t forgotten my weekly motivation. This week, it’s about hopes and relief. Even in the smallest of things, you can find relief from life’s struggles. Stop obsessing over what you’re going through. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Slowly work through that sense of vulnerability you’re feeling right now. You’ve managed to overcome harrowing moments with a lot of grace. You navigated the dark days with a smile on your face, even though you were on the verge of tears. Take things moment by moment. Let a sense of joy and hope enter your heart.

That’s all I have for you this week. Here’s to a fantastic, fun and amazing 2026!

Hello 2026: Without Illusions, With Intent

I’m approaching 2026 differently. Not with a list of grand resolutions or a neatly packaged vision board. Not with the assumption that clarity must arrive before action. And definitely not with the belief that hope has to be loud to be real. If the past year taught me anything, it’s this: I don’t need certainty to move forward. I need honesty. I need room to adjust. I need a way of living and working that doesn’t require me to constantly negotiate my worth. So this isn’t a manifesto. It’s a quieter reckoning. A look at what I want more of, what I’m done carrying, and what kind of year I’m willing to build.

For a long time, I believed that the right role, the right organisation, the right external “yes” would bring alignment with it. That once the conditions were right, everything else would fall into place. 2026 is the year I stop outsourcing alignment. I want work that fits the shape of my life, not the other way around. Work that uses my experience without flattening it. Work that values judgment, context, and long thinking over constant visibility. This doesn’t mean lowering ambition. It means being precise about it. I’m no longer interested in roles that require me to fragment myself to fit in. Or in environments where sustainability is discussed but never practised. I want to build something that has coherence, even if it grows more slowly.

Progress used to mean movement that other people could see. Titles. Announcements. External markers that made sense on paper. In 2026, progress needs to feel different. It needs to feel like momentum without panic. Like effort without depletion. Like days that end with energy still intact. I want to measure progress by better questions, not louder answers. By decisions that feel grounded rather than reactive. By choosing depth over speed, even when speed is rewarded more visibly. This is not a rejection of growth. It’s a recalibration of pace.

One of my quiet hopes for 2026 is to spend more time practising my craft and less time explaining it. I want work that allows for thinking, shaping, and refining. Work where experience is trusted rather than constantly proven. Where contribution isn’t measured only by immediacy or volume. I’m drawn to roles and projects that sit at the intersection of strategy, storytelling, and stewardship. Where long-term thinking matters. Where care is not seen as a weakness. I don’t need everything I do to be public-facing. I don’t need applause. I need meaning.

Writing stays. Not as a side project squeezed into spare hours, but as a central way I make sense of the world. In 2026, I want to treat writing with more seriousness and less romanticism. That means showing up even when it’s unglamorous. Letting pieces take time. Allowing my voice to evolve without forcing it into trends. I want to write essays that ask better questions. Pieces that sit with ambiguity instead of rushing to resolve it. Work that feels lived-in rather than polished for effect. I don’t know exactly where this writing will land. And I’m making peace with that.

One of my most practical hopes for 2026 is stability. Not the kind that comes from locking myself into something that drains me, but the kind that allows me to breathe. To plan. To rest without guilt. I want income streams that are diversified but coherent. Work that respects my time and experience. Fewer compromises that feel like erosion. This is about dignity as much as security. I want to stop normalising anxiety as the price of ambition.

I am also entering 2026 with a deeper respect for my limits. Not as constraints to push against endlessly, but as information. I want days that include pauses. Weeks that don’t feel like endurance tests. A relationship with my body that is attentive rather than adversarial. Health is no longer a background concern. It’s part of the structure. So is rest.

Travel will remain important, but with a different intention. Not as a way to flee exhaustion, but as a way to expand perspective. To stay curious. To remember that there are many ways to live a good life. I want travel that allows for immersion rather than accumulation. Fewer places, more presence. Less documenting, more noticing.

In 2026, I want to invest more deeply in relationships that don’t require me to explain myself repeatedly. Where conversation can be quiet. Where presence matters more than productivity. Where I can show up as I am, not as who I’m supposed to be at that stage of life. This also means releasing relationships that are sustained only by obligation or history. That isn’t a loss. It’s honesty.

Perhaps the biggest shift I’m carrying into 2026 is this: I no longer believe in arrival. There is no final version of life where everything clicks and stays that way. There is only continued adjustment. Learning. Choosing again. This is oddly freeing. It means I don’t have to get everything right this year. I just have to stay awake.

I’m carrying forward patience, but not passivity. Discernment, not cynicism. Hope that is quieter, steadier, and less attached to spectacle. I’m carrying forward the knowledge that I can live well even when outcomes are unresolved.

So this is how I’m stepping into 2026. Not with fireworks, but with intention. Not with certainty, but with clarity about what no longer works. I don’t know exactly what the year will bring. And for once, that doesn’t feel like a failure of imagination. It feels like space. And space, I’ve learned, is where the most honest work begins. So watch this space as I navigate 2026 to become a better version of myself