I was asked the other day what my latest project was – is it events or is it coaching? On the surface, it’s a simple question, but this lens feels far too small for me. We live in a world that loves tidy labels, quick LinkedIn headlines and neat “What do you do?” answers, and yet few people have the time or curiosity to get to know who we are underneath those labels. I find myself entering 2026 less tied to a routine, but with a stronger awareness of who I am and where I’d like to put my energy. The more I learn about myself and my values, the harder it is to squeeze what I do into a job title. So I’ve stopped trying. Instead, I talk about finding ways to connect, to build communities, to inspire others to be the best they can be – and the places I do this take many shapes and forms. Part of the discomfort comes from how much of our identity we’ve been taught to hook onto work - “I’m a lawyer” “I’m a teacher” “I’m in events.” These phrases are useful shortcuts, but they can become boxes that feel increasingly tight as we grow and change. A portfolio of different roles – a mix of projects, interests and income streams – is becoming more common, yet our language hasn’t quite caught up. When your week spans facilitating a workshop one day, coaching someone through a career crossroads the next, and then hosting a community event, the old labels start to feel flimsy. What sits beneath it all, for me, is a desire to create spaces where people feel seen, connected and alive.​ So how can we support people to find more meaning in their lives, rather than pushing them back into the nearest box? I think it starts with the questions we ask. Instead of “What do you do?”, we might ask “What are you curious about at the moment?” or “Where are you feeling most alive in your life right now?” Open questions invite longer, more thoughtful answers and help people feel genuinely heard. They gently signal that it’s safe to bring more of themselves into the conversation, not just the polished job‑title version. We also need to be careful about the assumptions we make about what a “good” path looks like. It might be the promotion and the bigger job title – but it might equally be a sideways step, a portfolio career, a season of freelancing or a role that pays less but fits your values more. So many of us quietly crave change but talk ourselves out of it because we don’t have “enough experience” in a new field. Yet if we look honestly at our lives, we are often carrying a rich mix of transferable skills and lived experience: the projects we’ve led, the teams we’ve supported, the crises we’ve navigated, the care work we’ve done. All of this counts. The bigger question is whether we are prepared to take a risk on ourselves. Leaning into this messier, more fluid way of living can feel unsettling. It often leads to a richer life, but also a more complex one – less certainty, fewer straight lines, and more conversations where you see people’s eyes slightly glaze over as you try to explain “what you do now.” A life built around what makes you come alive can mean sitting with more ambiguity day to day, trusting that clarity comes from action rather than over‑thinking. But it also offers more chances to feel in flow, to notice that you are fully present in a moment, using your strengths in service of something that matters to you. I’m reminded of the Howard Thurman quote: “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” I come back to this often. It doesn’t mean ignoring responsibilities or pretending life is simple. To me, it is an invitation to keep asking: Where do I feel most alive? How can I bring more of that into my work, my relationships, my community – even in small, everyday ways? When we follow that thread, we don’t just step out of the box for ourselves; we quietly give others permission to do the same.  So perhaps the more helpful question for all of us this year isn’t “What’s your job?” but “What are you building?” A life, a community, a practice, a body of work – even if it doesn’t fit neatly on a business card.

It’s January and many of us make resolutions for the year ahead. “It’s going to be a new me – I’m going to lose weight, exercise more and read every day.” Perhaps the reason we often fall short is that we are aiming for the wrong thing, or we don’t explore ways of achieving it that are in line with how we actually want to live. Maybe it’s more helpful to think about the true you rather than the new you. Societal pressure can make us feel that we should be doing certain things, but are we really taking the time to think about how we would like to live? Exercising more can take many forms. I’ve never found running enjoyable, but I love swimming, and it took time to discover this. If we pick the “wrong” thing, it isn’t a failure; it might simply mean we need to explore other options until we land on something that feels right for us. I’ve just finished a book by Roman Krznaric called Work and the Art of Living. One line in particular has stayed with me: “Is your work big enough for your spirit?” I love this idea of seeking the aliveness in ourselves and questioning whether our work – or our life, for that matter – is truly fulfilling. Sometimes it is fear that stops us following our true calling rather than anything more practical like money or stability. And we all have our own version of this. The more we can look inward and find our own inner spirit, the more fulfilling and alive our lives can become. Whenever we make a decision about how we want to live and work, we have a choice. In the busyness of life, we often find ourselves on autopilot, saying yes to a project because it’s what we’ve always done. We make decisions quickly because our to-do list is overflowing and we just want to tick something off. We don’t always stop, pause and ask whether there is another way, or whether we even want to be doing it at all.  So my invitation to you today is to give yourself permission to pause. Take a moment, create some space, and consider, as Mary Oliver writes, “what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”