My neighbor, Paula, turns 94 in November. She is tiny, but mighty. Born in Germany, she moved to the United States after marrying an American soldier. Today, she honored him 44 years after his death. She does this every year to celebrate him and his life.

Paula raised a son and a daughter by herself and experienced some of the greatest grief and hardship a person can experience, yet when you talk with her, you quickly realize the gift she continues to bring to those around her. That gift is her light and her wisdom.

When we think about intentionally designing our lives, including our work and spaces, we don't always think about how they can be interwoven and support us on our journey of discovery, change and growth.

How do we bring back hope when it feels elusive? Hope can exist in that space of not knowing, but in trusting and doing what we can to rise. And way one to find it, is to give it. Give it to ourselves and share it with others when they need it most.

Over the last decade, so much has been written about business transformation; how to do it, what it looks like and the measurable results that can be achieved for businesses brave enough to leap forward in new ways.

Over the weekend, I witnessed a young man have a dreadful accident in a motocross race. The day was sunny and lighthearted, full of families enjoying each other. Then just moments later, tragedy struck for a talented 18-year-old.

Sometimes we’re not logically aware that a change cycle is coming up, but we can feel it on the horizon as we begin to sort through and purge things to make room for what’s coming.

We’re in the midst of an incredible shift. Many of us are reinventing ourselves in some way–our work and service in the world, our relationships, finances, health habits, beliefs, you name it. At the same time, we have outside forces pushing us to make change, or minimally, to re-examine what we value.

I’ve always been curious about people, their stories and what makes them tick. It was a beautiful sunny day in Upstate NY when I drove by an older gentleman selling honey on the corner of the street. Sitting alone, I’ve seen him selling his product on some of the coldest winter days.