The choice we get to make every day
I recently listened to an online seminar by Tony Robbins where, among many other things, he spoke about the importance of choosing carefully in relationships.
Not choosing the other person — but choosing who we want to be in the relationship.
It’s not, of course, a one-off decision, but an ongoing process. One we can choose again and again, moment by moment.
In any given situation, we can pause and ask:
Who do I want to be here?
How would the version of me I’m growing into respond right now?
The me who is more loving.
More magnanimous.
More patient.
More adventurous.
More sovereign.
And then — as best we can — we let that version of ourselves lead.
What often gets in the way are the old stories we carry about who we are. Our fixed beliefs that quietly override the insights, experiences, and learnings we’ve gathered since they first formed.
For example, I caught myself saying the other day,
“I’m not the kind of person who goes to festivals."
And then I stopped.
Why not?
Why not try something new?
Why not give it a go and meet the experience fresh — without deciding the outcome in advance?
So I've decided that this year will be my year of saying yes to new experiences. Not yes to everything — but yes to the things that ask me to lean into my edges.
That tender place where I might feel a little uncomfortable but that also holds the promise of fun, growth, and new connections.
(And if you’re feeling like you’re already doing all you can, I’ve shared a reflection in the Food for Thought section below that may speak to you.)
It’s not about pushing or forcing.
It’s about choosing — again and again — to meet life from a slightly more spacious, courageous, and honest place.
Perhaps there’s an edge calling to you right now too.
Not demanding.
Just waiting to be acknowledged.
With warmth,
Uschi
Food for Thought
A moment of insight from the Hopi story
about assumptions, discernment, and self-trust
At a facilitation seminar a few years back, we were introduced to a story often attributed to the Hopi people.
It speaks of a time when the river is rising and flowing fast. Those clinging to the river’s edge are encouraged to let go — to release their grip on the familiar, jump into the middle of the river, and allow themselves to be carried by the current. To trust the flow, rather than holding on in fear.
The story spoke strongly to me.
And then, in a breakout group, I learned something very valuable.
For some people, this story didn't resonate at all.
They shared that they have worked incredibly hard to get to the river’s edge. To find some stability. Some safety. Some ground beneath their feet. And from that place, the idea of letting go feels anything but wise — it feels overwhelming and non-sensical.
I was aware that growth isn't always about jumping in or pushing forward — and that sometimes staying exactly where we are, holding on, resting, or consolidating, is the most compassionate choice we can make.
What struck me was how easily I had assumed that, because I shared a similar worldview with the other participants, they would embrace the story the way I did.
It was a quiet reminder that discernment is deeply personal — and that what feels expansive for one person may feel destabilising for another.
There are seasons for leaning into the current.
And there are seasons for staying close to the bank.
Both require discernment.
Both require self-trust.
The best we can do is find and follow our most authentic voice.