Bones, Breath, and Becoming

Hi friends,

Welcome to the January edition of How Humans Flourish, a research-informed newsletter exploring the ways we thrive—individually and collectively.

As we step into 2025, it’s impossible to ignore the loudness unfolding around us. From the LA wildfires to a deeply polarizing election season, this year has already whispered an eternal question: how do we ground ourselves amidst uncertainty? How do we craft a life of meaning and vitality in a world that can feel unsteady?

Last year, we delved into the profound connection between mind and body—a wellspring of insights from scientists and luminaries that affirmed the brilliance of our design. But knowledge alone doesn’t transform lives. As much as René Descartes shaped Western thought with his, “I think, therefore I am,” I’ve come to believe that existence demands something deeper. To be is to dwell fully within the experience of life. To be is to inhabit our bodies and emotions without resistance. To co-create with the capricious direction of our destiny by engaging with the world as active participants in the ongoing act of becoming.

We can know what’s good for us—“I should exercise more,” “I should eat better,” “I should rest more”—but knowing something, even something profound, doesn’t inherently lead to transformation. Integration—the process of aligning our actions with our knowledge—is where the magic happens. 

This year, I’m inviting us into the practice of integration: cultivating practices that help us live more whole, vibrant lives. These practices aren’t about striving for perfection; they’re about embracing the imperfect, the messy… they’re about finding flow even when life feels fragmented.

A few weeks ago, amidst news of wildfires and text messages from friends grieving the losses they’d faced, I returned to Austrian neurologist and psychologist Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning. One story in particular stayed with me. Frankl recounts meeting a young woman in a concentration camp, facing her impending death. Emaciated and bed-ridden, she found solace in a tree visible through her window. “I often talk to this tree,” she told him. “It says to me, ‘I am here—I am life, eternal life.’” 

Her words pierced me. 

What does it mean to truly be here? What is this “life” she referenced, and how do we access it in our own precarious moments?

This question brought me back to my younger self. I stumbled into human flourishing literature only after my own metaphorical emotional and mental engine light had been blinking for years. By graduate school, I was carrying a profound heaviness—a feeling so ancient it seemed to live in my bones. I used to joke with friends that my old, weary bones felt heavy in my young body, and indeed if I sat still long enough, everything inside me just felt so sad. 

I’d always been drawn to fictional stories of bone-carriers: archetypal figures like Lois Lowry’s Giver, who bore the memories of a community, Alice Walker’s Lissie, who carried the weight of history and loss, or Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés’s La Loba, who roamed the earth gathering and singing over discarded bones. These figures metaphorically carried the weight of memory, history, and transformation. Their work wasn’t glamorous, but it was essential. These stories seemed to mirror something in me: an unspoken sense of responsibility to hold life’s complexities, to bridge the past with the present, pain with meaning.

Jungian psychology offers a profound lens for understanding this. The psyche is not merely an abstract concept; it represents the organic wisdom of the natural being that we are. Just as our toenails grow without our willing them to, or our eyelids blink to protect our eyes, there is a wisdom within us that governs our inner world. This wisdom knows when something is misaligned and it guides us toward wholeness, seeking to integrate all parts of ourselves—even those we’d rather avoid or forget. Bone-carriers embody this work: they take what is scattered, broken, or buried and bring it into the light. They remind us that healing and transformation are possible, but only if we confront and carry the full weight of our experiences.

My psyche was always drawn to these stories of transformation– but, I didn’t want to look further than the stories. No one invites the girl who talks about metaphorical inner world death and transformation to the dinner party. So I pushed down the strange, complicated, and often dark feelings stirring in me. But as I tried to deny them, my psyche—that inner compass guiding my life’s direction—began to rebel. I experienced persistent suicidal ideation. These thoughts weren’t fleeting; they lingered, demanding my attention. Outwardly, I appeared “engaged and intellectually curious,” but inwardly, I was unraveling.

Psychologist James Hollis poses an important question we can ask ourselves during these moments of unraveling:

Why has my psyche autonomously withdrawn its approval and support from the agenda that I’ve been addressing?

Our psyches are not passive observers. They guide us, often through feelings we’d rather repress, suppress, anesthetize, or project onto others. 

This was the beginning of my psyche knocking on my consciousness's door, asking me to look back, to gather the bones of myself. From witnessing harrowing violence in my childhood to inheriting intergenerational trauma from survivors of war, it asked me to remember the parts I’d willfully pushed to the eerie confines of my subconscious. It asked me to observe all the ways I’d disconnected from myself in an attempt to forget. 

Oh, boy.

I had to learn to do things differently… but most importantly, I had to learn to live as though I loved myself.

It would take some time to realize, the darker feelings aren’t punishments; they’re protests, invitations to pause and recalibrate. When we’re aligned with what is meaningful, according to our psyche, even suffering and sacrifice can feel purposeful because our psyche supports us.

Regardless of tribulation, we know at our core I am here—I am life, eternal life. This wisdom provides a spiritual buffer, an inner resilience. When we stray too far from that alignment, our psyche pathologizes. It sends signals—sometimes as whispers, other times as disorienting moans. 

Why is this important for us? Because thriving is not about avoiding discomfort, but rather, learning how to live through it with intention. 

This year, I’d like for us as a community to connect and play a bit more (mentioning play after all this psyche talk might seem diabolical, but I promise they go together). By play, I mean allowing ourselves the grace to experiment—to try on mindsets, tools, and practices that help us create (or expand, for those already well-practiced) a wisdom roadmap for our holistic wellbeing.

We want to lay a stake into the questions:

• What brings you back to yourself?

• What anchors you?

• When and how do you know, even in the midst of the storm: all will be well?

As part of honoring depth and intentionality, How Humans Flourish will now shift from a weekly to a monthly format. This change allows for richer, more meaningful content that truly supports our collective journey toward flourishing.

If you're seeking a deeper connection, I invite you to join our latest offering: The Wisdom Room—a donation-based Zoom gathering held every Sunday evening. Together, we’ll create, share, and learn from one another’s wisdom roadmaps in an atmosphere of growth and inspiration.

To kick off this journey, this Sunday at 7:30 PM EST, I’ll be guiding Tonglen, a profound Buddhist compassion practice that fosters deep empathy. I’ll also share insights from my own wisdom roadmap, shaped by over a decade of hard-earned wellbeing practices. As an attendee, you will receive your own customizable template to begin crafting your personal roadmap, with the opportunity to explore and collaborate further in breakout sessions. *Please note, this newsletter brings together people from all walks of life with diverse beliefs, so when we gather, we convene with a spirit of open-minded, compassionate inquiry.

Thriving isn’t a destination; it’s a practice. This year, thriving for me includes a commitment to keeping my edges soft, my mind expansive, and my heart engaged. 

I’m honored to practice alongside you.

With gratitude,

What I’m Working On:

At break*through, we’re deep into designing our second product: e-journals filled with breathing and movement meditations crafted for mental and emotional flourishing. These aren’t your typical journaling prompts or mindfulness exercises. Our e-journals focus on trauma-release and are paired with a supportive community to hold space for growth and healing.

What I’m Listening To:

I made a playlist for you! Curated to inspire and ground, you can listen here: How Humans Flourish January Playlist.

What I’m Loving:

I mentioned Jungian psychologist and author James Hollis earlier in this newsletter. His interview with Andrew Huberman is a treasure trove of wisdom. If you’re curious about understanding the deeper layers of your inner world, I can’t recommend it enough.

How to contribute:

How Humans Flourish is a dedicated project nurtured with love and intention. Since it began, break*through’s mission has been to keep it a thoughtful, ad-free space for exploration and reflection on human potential, supported by a community of readers like you. The research, writing, and upkeep requires time and resources to sustain, and I’m committed to keeping it a sanctuary free of commercial distractions.

If How Humans Flourish brings you joy, insight, or comfort, please consider making a contribution—whatever you’re able to offer makes a significant difference.

You can become a Sustaining Patron, joining a circle of monthly loyal supporters or you can make a one-time donation ensuring this space remains a thoughtful resource for years to come. As a Sustaining Patron, you enjoy unlimited access to our weekly Wisdom Rooms.