What I’m willing to burn (and what I’m choosing to carry into 2026)

There is a difference between ending a year and ending a pattern. Before the calendar turns, I plan to burn a few things. Literally. Deliberately. Ritualistically. Surrounded by people who hold meaning to me. Not out of rage — but to honor what once served and no longer does.Because change does not begin with what we add. It begins with what we are willing to leave behind.For those of us who work in systems change, leadership, culture, and transformation, this moment between years is not a productivity checkpoint. It could, however, be a moral one. A moment to ask:* What narratives are we done carrying?* What habits no longer deserve our loyalty?* What do we refuse to normalize for another year?Instead of offering my own year-in-review, I want to share a small constellation of writing that helped me sit more honestly with those questions. These pieces don’t sell certainty. They practice discernment. Together, they sketch a different way of entering a new year — one rooted in agency, attention, and care.Changemakers’ Handbook is an audience-supported publication. To access all posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Image credit: Christine Sponchia from Pixabay.1. Staying with the light — without rushing the tunnelMichelle Malanca Frey — When We See the Light, We Keep GoingMichelle writes from inside the unfinished — the creative middle where outcomes are unclear and motivation wavers. Rather than tidy reflection, she offers something braver: presence.What struck me most is her insistence that connection itself is a form of light. Not applause. Not completion. But choosing to share before we’re ready, to notice our neighbors, to keep walking together even when we can’t yet see the exit.For changemakers, this is a quiet but radical reminder: progress is not proof; it’s participation.2. Refusing easy answers in a flooded worldSarah Sieloff — Flooded with QuestionsSarah begins with real floods — climate-driven, destabilizing, immediate — and expands into a larger inquiry about governance, responsibility, and preparedness.What makes this piece powerful is its refusal to collapse complexity into talking points. Sarah models something essential for our time: ethical attention. She asks what it means to live inside systems that are clearly failing — and how our political and institutional responses reveal what (and who) we are willing to protect.This is change work at its most honest: not certainty, but stewardship of the questions.3. The ideas that change us quietlyAnna Vatuone — Four Life-Changing Books I Read This YearAnna’s reflection looks like a reading list but reads like a map of inner evolution. These are not books as credentials or consumption. They are books as companions — texts that arrive when we are ready to be changed.I appreciate how this piece invites a different accounting. Not “what did I accomplish?” but:What altered my lens?What stayed with me after the page closed?For those of us shaping narratives for a living, this is a reminder that what we take in shapes what we can imagine out.4. Burning the resolution scriptMegan White — The Bridge: On Hibernation, Somatic Clearing, and the Return of the LightMegan offers a direct alternative to January’s demand for reinvention. She frames this moment as a bridge — a space for clearing, integration, and rest before movement.Her invitations are small, embodied, practical: lighten your emotional load, your digital clutter, your unspoken obligations. This is not about striving less — it’s about making room.For anyone exhausted by performative growth, this piece offers permission to choose another path: clarity before momentum.5. Reclaiming the compass after disruptionDawna Jones — Feeling Shattered? How to Recover From Being Laid OffDawna writes with deep compassion for those whose lives have been abruptly interrupted. Rather than rushing readers toward reinvention, she centers the interior work that disruption demands.This is a piece about listening — to grief, to values, to the quieter signals that point us back toward alignment. Harmony with and within ourselves. In a culture obsessed with bouncing back, Dawna reminds us that re-orientation is not weakness.Sometimes the bravest move is not the next step — but the pause that lets us choose the right one.And for something quite magical… Friendships slow aging!A dear friend Monique shared this piece for The Conversation U.S. by Livia Gerber, Katharina J. Peters, and Lee A Rollins with me as (an exquisite) bow to our friendship over now 20+ years, at just the right time! So, please suspend all trepidation and reach out to your favorite humans and bask in the connection. What I’m carrying forwardRead together, these pieces form a quiet manifesto for transformation without coercion.They remind me that:* agency grows where choice is honored* attention is a finite, moral resource* rest is not retreat; it is gratitude and preparation* meaning is built in relationship — not extraction* peace, joy, and pleasure are not “optional extra” but preconditions for an impactful lifeSo, before I welcome the new year, I will burn what no longer belongs:* the illusion of control* the fear of fear itself* pressure to perform happiness, certainty, and convenienceAnd I will welcome others in:* curiosity and better questions* uncomfortable disclosure* the courage to choose* and the wisdom to bask in the goodMay the year ahead be shaped less by what we promise — and more by what we are finally willing to release!Happy new year, changemakers!! See you in 2026. 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