Love isn’t a finite resource. It’s not something we can run out of when it’s given freely. Love is regenerative.

There is no artificial intelligence in the world that can replace the learning, growth, and wisdom that come from the lived human experience. From trying and failing. From being in a room full of other people who have stumbled, then found their footing and turned to extend their hand to help someone else.

Our thoughts define us. So it’s important to control them. But like anyone else, it is not always easy to redirect. I am aware of the importance of being mindful. I know how to use all the tools in my toolbox – meditation, pranayama, journaling – and I know that entering an emotional spiral does not serve me.

In a world that is moving quickly, that kind of centered leadership matters more than ever. So if you’ve been holding on tightly to a dream, perhaps this is an invitation to loosen your grip just a little. Stay curious. Create space for expansion. See what might emerge.

This journey is not just about my knee or my spine. Or even my hip. It is about the injuries beneath the injuries. About the visible and the invisible pain. About all the ways I have learned to override myself. The ways I have normalized self-denial along the way. And all the ways I am being invited to listen and respond anew.

Being strong doesn’t mean going it alone. It means allowing yourself to accept help. To understand that the healing you need might have to come from beyond your own application of discipline and resilience.

There are people whose circumstances look objectively hard. Yet they remain expansive.

There are people whose circumstances look objectively comfortable. But they live their life in contraction - never claiming their joy.

The correlation is not as simple as we would like it to be.

Our dreams are universal - a better future for our children, an easier life for our siblings or our parents, a comfortable community for our neighbors, new wheels so we can get around easier. The dreams Tanu shared were not exceptional.

It’s a story as old as time and yet still brand new. It’s generational sacrifice that propels the next onward to a bigger and brighter future. Inside every one of us, there are entire worlds – stories to tell – motivations that drive us – lessons we can share.

My journey had come full circle. I’d returned to where I started, and along the way, I’d grown so much. The unexpected resilience of managing health conditions and of being open to receiving treatment enriched my awareness of the depths of compassion and caregiving. About how it can affect the giver and the receiver, too.

I also learned that joy can be found in unexpected places, in unplanned experiences – and this improvisational joy can be just as beautiful as carefully designed joy.

Mumbai does not try to hide its contrasts.

There are no carefully drawn lines separating wealth from poverty, no invisible buffers designed to soften the view. The city does not arrange itself politely.

Instead, everything exists side by side. To an outsider, it can feel overwhelming.

We are used to cities where life is carefully managed into building zones, where everything appears orderly and predictable.

Mumbai is none of that.

It is vast. Uncontained. Intensely alive.

When I arrived in India, my body was at war with itself. And now, in my attempt to leave, countries are at war with one another.

We had a deliberate departure prepared. Every detail planned. But now, we must be flexible. Once again.

In January, my word was Joy.

I thought I knew what that meant.

But by the end of the month, I was forced to redefine it entirely.

This month, my focus word is Miracle.

Not the audacious kind that saints are born from, but the kind that asks:

What if healing can happen in more ways than just one?

I’d started the year with a very specific definition of joy.

Joy was travel.
Joy was learning.
Joy was spiritual immersion.
Joy was carefully curated healing experiences.

Joy was something I could design. It was something I could control.

But January had other plans for me.

Instead, joy arrived in unexpected forms.

These conversations have reinforced my belief that the future of leadership will be defined by presence, trust, and humanity NOT by force or power. Mindful leadership is not about knowing exactly how to handle the challenges thrown at you, but about showing up for each one mindfully.

Pause with me. May we all know joy. So let's set up an intention for all of us. May we all know joy. May we share joy, spread it. Spread it. Spread it. Spread it. Let your smile light up others. Spread it. May we become joy and may joy find us where we are! May we know joy! May we share joy! May we become joy and may joy find us wherever we are. Thank you for being a part of this journey, and we'll keep spreading joy.

Here’s to more limit-crossing in 2026. Here’s to getting out of our own way. To beginning again. To surrendering what we can’t control. To reframing for the present. To finding magic where we can. I look forward to a magically unfolding 2026 and am thankful to be here on this journey with you.

Every turn took my breath away. Every scramble revealed a new delight unfolding before me. There was magic in every step. From the kind stranger whose outstretched hand was there just when I needed it, to the whispers from my ancestors on the wind, to the soul-touching memories we took from that place. Magic is all around us.

Master negotiator William Ury’s book Possible: How We Survive (and Thrive) in an Age of Conflict, helps us understand how we can find common ground. He says, "The path to possible is to go to the balcony, build a golden bridge, and engage the third side—all together, all at once." This quote reflects his core strategy for conflict resolution, which involves gaining perspective, creatively addressing the other side's needs, and involving the community. Are there ways you can build a bridge and find common ground?

Today, we begin again. This mantra guided every step of my Everest journey and still helps me feel centered when I need encouragement to move forward: Our point of power is in the now.

Through all of this change and personal surrender, it was helpful to remember that the mountain chooses you.