Some Thoughts on Commitment, Change, and Hope

I’ve been a bit absent.

And while part of me wants to apologize, another part knows this absence has been honest.
The end of 2025 held a lot… growth at 1440 Health, shifts in my personal life, and the kind of inner movement that asks for attention and care. Much of my energy has gone into tending what’s been unfolding, and I’m grateful for it. Things are moving and changing in meaningful ways.

Which brings me to intention.

Each year, I choose a single word, not as a goal, but as a guide. At the start of the year, I reflect back and notice how that word has quietly woven itself into the fabric of my life.

Last year’s word was Commitment.

At first, it felt like an odd offer. I think of myself as disciplined, but discipline and commitment aren’t the same thing. Discipline is about structure. Commitment is about devotion. Staying present when things get uncomfortable. Choosing again and again, even when you’d rather avoid or control.

One of my deepest lessons around commitment came from a two-week retreat in Hawaii with my teacher and fellow students. We were diving into understanding the Self, and I found myself getting surprisingly angry about distractions. I wanted them gone. I wanted control over the environment so I could do the work without all the distractions.

But it doesn’t work that way. They kept showing up, they were completely out of my control.

Eventually, I realized they were pointing me toward a well-worn routine, one I was attached to, proud of even…that no longer served me. The invitation wasn’t to eliminate the distraction, but to commit to change. To let something familiar fall away and trust what might come next.

Another place commitment showed up was in asking for help.

How do you feel about asking for help?
I ask that genuinely because for many of us, it’s not easy.

Bringing the vision of the 1440 Health Collective into form has been one of the great joys of my life. And in 2025, we finally settled into our expanded space – no more construction, no more growth plans, just inhabiting what we’ve built. And as the dust settled, I realized how overwhelmed I was.

I didn’t know where to begin. I didn’t know how to delegate. I didn’t know what I needed help with.

So I committed to understanding my blocks around receiving support: control, trust, vulnerability, letting go of doing everything myself. I moved slowly. Compassionately. And in November, I hired an incredible Operations Manager.

That commitment changed everything.

And finally, my commitment to hope.

Hope isn’t passive. It isn’t wishful thinking.
Hope is a force. A container for possibility. A heart-anchored orientation toward something better.

To be committed to hope, to choose it again and again, even when the world feels heavy, is no small thing. But imagine what could shift if we collectively rooted ourselves in that kind of devotion.

Now, you may not work with a word each year. Maybe you set intentions. Maybe you make resolutions. Or maybe you don’t have a practice like this at all. Still, there’s wisdom in reflecting back and acknowledging what worked, what challenged you, and what you learned along the way.

So I’ll leave you with a few questions to sit with:

What were your biggest wins last year?
What challenged you the most?
What lessons emerged from those challenges?
And if you had a word guiding you, how did it show up?

I’d love to hear what you discover.