Dearest Reader,
Each morning, before even leaving my bedroom, I sit down at an old wooden vanity, read a chapter from the Tao Te Ching, and write a line or two in my journal.
The other day, a post-it slipped out from the thick, soft-covered book, where I’d tucked it five years ago. On it was a question I’d written to myself.
10 YEAR TEST: at age 55, what will I be glad I started or amplified NOW?
I’d completely forgotten about the question and the post-it. If it weren’t in my handwriting, I wouldn’t even be sure I’d written it.
But having it fall out now, at 50, feels kind of perfect. Had it appeared a year or even six months ago, it would’ve been different. More: get on it, what’s wrong with you? Less: you’re on the right path, keep going.
When I wrote that note, I was in my first year of sobriety. I was working long hours teaching and being a dean at a college. I was holding out hope that I could make my business work and maybe publish the book I’d been writing. Even though I was already working so hard—too hard—I was pressuring myself to do more and earn more and “make it.”
At the time, “making it” meant reaching a point where I could stop worrying about money and feel some sense of success. I wanted to get there through my writing, with my name on it, rather than always working and writing for others.
Growing up and moving through adulthood with financial insecurity and scarcity—no matter how simply I lived or how hard I worked—pushed me to equate success with something solid. Enough money to stop bracing all the time, enough safety to exhale, enough stability to feel like relief.
But the other side of that story is that I’ve always had enough. When I look inward—or beyond myself, taking a wider perspective—life has been generous and met me right where I’ve been.
And if I look even deeper, I see that when I did make more money or achieve titles or status, it still didn’t bring the peace I expected.
What’s changed since then is not that everything worked itself out on the surface. It’s that, in my first year of being 50, holding that note in my hands, I realized I already have what matters most. I’m already doing what I need to be doing.
In the last five years…
I got sober, which for me meant deciding to finally grow up and take full accountability for my life and my choices.
I moved back to Thailand with my partner and our two cats.
I kept deepening practices that have been with me for decades: yoga, Buddhism, and, this past year, fully integrating them into how I show up here in my writing.
As I move into 2026 and beyond…
My practices are taking a more formal shape. I’m beginning a program of Theravada Buddhist studies, which may evolve into a Master of Divinity. I’m also embarking on a year-long study of Jñāna yoga and A Course in Miracles (details in my last letter).
These containers of study are rooted in what matters most to me: deepening internal practice, bringing that practice into daily life and ordinary interactions more fully, spending more time in touch with my heart.
The shift isn’t so much from external to internal… more like integration, more like integrity. Bringing internal practice into the external world in a more honest, lived way. Living more ethically and beautifully in thought, words, and actions. Aspiring, however imperfectly, to cause less harm and, through my words and writing, cast a vote for love, not division. If you’re reading this, I hope you feel it.
At 45, I had no idea where or who I’d be at 50. At 50, I still don’t know where or who I’ll be five years from now.
What I do know is this: I finally feel on the path I want to be on. There’s a quiet knowing here that’s deeper than any goal I’ve had around success or writing or money. I trust the practices and traditions that shaped me and led me here. I trust my heart to guide me.
And even or especially amidst the hurt and heartbreak of humanness, I know I’m doing what future-me will be glad I started. There’s serenity in that. And relief.
So, as we move into the new year, I want to ask you:
On January 1, 2027, what will you be glad you started today?
And, holding that in your heart:
What one small, supportive step will you take this week?
If you’d like to share, I’d love to read your answers in the comments.
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If you feel unsure what your future self wants for you, or if you want support as you move through this year with more ease in your heart, you may wish to explore:
The PERFECT HUNGER™ Guide to Transformative Eating. While it’s focused on food, the approach applies to shifting any unhelpful pattern and stepping into a more present, more whole way of living.
The Practice, exploring how we follow through with what nourishes body, mind, spirit—including an upcoming edition on reducing or quitting caffeine 😭.
Link-Ups, featuring resources to help you feel better and live more beautifully—plus a chance for paid subscribers to win a $100 gift card, coming next week.
If you’re not yet a paid subscriber and would like to be, I’m running a small sale on annual subscriptions:
Wishing you steadiness and serenity as we move into what’s next.
With so much love,
Dana







Note: while I can’t recall where I got the wording for the post-it five years ago, I believe it was from Marie Forleo, whose business program I was enrolled in at the time.
“I’m already doing what I need to be doing.” Such grace-filled peace in that sentence. I love this.
May your quiet knowing carry you all the way through 2026, Dana. 💞
This week, I will honor my 5 year sober anniversary by reflecting and remembering how aligned I am with the whole me who lives inside me. All the mashed up versions of me that got me here. They all deserve a round of applause.