Your Birthday Is Your Personal New Year. Six Months Later, You Reach the Summit. #15

I’ve come to understand time differently.

Not as something that rushes past me in weeks and deadlines, but as something I move through day by day, season by season, choice by choice. My birthday, July 18, is my personal New Year. It is the moment the year turns inward instead of outward. No loud resolutions. No January pressure. Just quiet intentions set in the long light of summer.

From that day forward, I begin the climb.

Not all at once. Not dramatically. The climb happens on ordinary days. In the small decisions that do not look like much in the moment. In conversations that subtly change direction. In work that feels aligned one day and uncomfortable the next. Some days feel like progress. Some feel like rest. Some feel like recalibration.

All of them count.

Six months from my birthday is the summit. Today is mine.

Not the end. Not a finish line. A vantage point.

This is the day I stop long enough to notice where I actually am. I look back at the past six months, not just what I have accomplished, but who I have become in the process. What the days taught me. What the seasons asked of me. Where I pushed too hard. Where I softened. Where I surprised myself.

This practice came from Tracy Talley, who once reminded me to pay attention to two things on this day: where I am and who I am with. Not metaphorically, but literally. What does my life look like when I pause? Who is in the room? What feels steady? What feels alive?

Today, I am home.

I am with my boyfriend/partner. Friends are visiting. There is laughter in the rooms, shared meals, and the kind of ease that comes from feeling safe and known. These are not headline achievements, but they are foundational ones. This is the life the work is meant to support.

In the coming days, I will head to one of my favorite places in the world, New York City. Part of the trip is for work. Creative conversations, momentum, building what is next. And part of it is just for me. To walk. To observe. To remember who I am in a city that always reflects possibility back to me. I don’t do resolutions, but I do pick a word for the year. This year, my word is sovereignty. I’ll post about this next week.

My Summit is when I take stock and always brings gratitude. The longer days starting create space for reflection. I can see the arc of the last six months more clearly now, personally, professionally, and relationally. I can name what I have built. I can honor what I have released. I can appreciate the quiet wins that do not show up on a résumé but shape a life.

And still, this view is not uncomplicated.

I am deeply concerned about our country. About where we are headed. About who feels unseen, unheard, or unsafe. Holding gratitude does not mean ignoring reality. Joy does not mean bypassing truth. In times like these, joy becomes intentional. Inspiration becomes an offering. Information becomes a form of care.

So this summit is not about pretending everything is fine.

It is about choosing how I show up anyway.

As I begin the descent into the next half of my year, moving day by day and season by season, I am recommitting to what matters most to me. Bringing joy where I can. Offering inspiration without denial. Sharing information that helps people feel more grounded, more empowered, and less alone.

So I will leave you with this:

When is your summit?
What day falls exactly six months from your birthday?

Look back over the last five years. Who were you with on those days? Who did you spend them with? Where were you emotionally, energetically, in your sense of self?

These questions are not sentimental. They are structural.

If we are lucky, we get about one hundred birthdays in a lifetime and with them, maybe one hundred summit days. Holidays work the same way. These moments are not neutral. They show us who we prioritize, who shows up, and who we make room for.

Ideally, they are filled with people who lift you up. Who celebrates you without competition. Who appreciates you without conditions. Who loves you in ways that make your life feel larger, not smaller.

And if that has not been true, this is your invitation to be honest.

The year I met Tracy and learned this practice, I took a hard look at those days. That same year, a moment at the first Life is Beautiful festival in Las Vegas, in a dark room where a speaker said, "Well, I have 45 Thanksgivings and Christmases left, if I am average life expectancy," and I started doing the math. I noticed patterns. I noticed absences. I noticed where familiarity had replaced alignment. And I made changes. Quiet ones. Necessary ones.

Those changes have served me well. Some removals, some simple shifts of intention.

Because time is finite. The days we mark matter. And the people we choose to surround ourselves with, especially on the days that matter most, quietly shape the direction of our lives.

Pause at your summit.
Look around.
Let the view tell you the truth.

If the view at your summit does not match the life you want, that is not failure. It is your cue. Pay attention to your summit days. They quietly decide the rest of your year.

Onward and upward.

Thank you for reading. I believe that:

Empathy makes us human; actions make us warriors.

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