Good morning Reader—

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And welcome to the 27th issue of The FAM.

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We’re in that strange in-between space… December. The old year isn’t quite over. The new one hasn’t fully begun. And yet, beneath the surface of every conversation, every plan, every “how was your year?”, there’s a quiet pressure building.

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To do more. Be better. Start fresh. Set goals. Grow. Change. Rewire.

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Because with the new year comes new possibilities. Before 2026 begins to pull you in every direction, consider giving yourself a breath. A new year asks for a pause before it asks for a plan. It’s this incredible, scary, beautiful, intimidating opportunity to really take the time to reflect and intentionally set yourself up to become the version of yourself you want to be.

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There’s a story we’re all sold this time of year, and most of us—myself included—have bought it. We’re told that growth is just about getting better. That January is for resolutions, vision boards, goal-setting, and “leveling up.”

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We’re sold fitness memberships, diet plans, gizmos and gadgets to help ‘optimize’ and ‘uplevel’ ourselves. We buy the planners, sticky-note our goals to bathroom mirrors, and fill out the worksheets that we’re too tired to feel excited about.

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But here’s the truth: You can’t rise into a new year carrying everything that weighed you down in the last one.

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That dream you abandoned halfway. That guilt for not doing “enough.” That quiet shame for still feeling stuck. The resentment that clings. The unspoken grief you haven’t named yet. The shame of another year gone by, where you didn’t quite become who you thought you’d be.

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You can’t set new intentions while still dragging all of that behind you.

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You can’t dream of momentum if your emotional backpack is still full of “should haves,” “what ifs,” and “why did I say yes to that again?”

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These things don’t just disappear on January 1st. And no vision board or resolution list will overwrite what hasn’t been released.

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So before you plan, before you rise, before you become—let’s pause here.

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Let’s do the one thing most people forget to do before a new beginning: Let go.

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Because letting go isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom. It’s strength. It’s the way we make room for who we’re becoming.

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There’s something powerful about starting the year with intention instead of pressure.

A Ritual of Letting Go

Not too long ago on one of our FAM weekly calls, a good friend of mine and FAM member, Kay, shared a tradition that she and her family do at the turn of every new year.

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Every New Year’s Eve, they gather around the fire. Each person gets two sheets of paper.

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On the first, you write what you’re ready to let go of.
No one sees it. It’s private. Honest. Sometimes raw.

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And on the second, you write what you’re calling in for the new year. Your vision, intention, focus… whatever is most important to you in the coming year.

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Then, one by one, they step forward and feed the first paper to the flames. Silently. Intentionally. Watching it burn.

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Kay told me and the FAM members on the virtual meet-up, “There’s something about watching that page go up… That thing that felt so heavy, it suddenly doesn’t live in me anymore.”

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And in that moment, she said, “You feel your life without the weight.”

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That’s the feeling we’re after. Not hype. Not hustle. Not another hollow promise of “New Year, New You.”

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But an honest clearing. A sacred release. A moment where you say:
​“This isn’t coming with me into 2026.”

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And you mean it.

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Because here’s the deeper truth: Most people get stuck because they never paused to release what’s already clogging their soul.

What are you still carrying from this past year—emotionally, mentally, spiritually, or otherwise—that you know it’s time to let go of?

I’ve noticed something in myself—and in the conversations I’ve had with others this time of year…We often try to build a new life on top of an unreleased one.

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We chase new goals while still carrying last year’s weight. Stack fresh commitments on top of quiet regrets. Set intentions for a new season, even as echoes of disappointment linger just beneath the surface.

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It doesn’t work. Try thinking of it this way:

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If your goal is to live a healthier lifestyle, no amount of cardio will get you to your goals if you don’t first address your eating habits. If you want to publish a book, no amount of writing will deliver your final draft if you don’t let go of your fear of failure. If you want to spend more time with your family, no amount of scheduling will bring you joy and connection unless you learn to silence your phone and put away the emails.

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And if you’ve ever wondered why a “new year” starts to feel suspiciously like the old one by mid-January… this is why. You can’t rise if you don’t first release.

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Letting go is the first act of courage.

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Penny, another good friend who also joins our weekly gatherings, shared her thoughts on transformation. She described it as a seed. Penny said a seed doesn’t become a plant by adding more… it has to break open. It must destroy its current form to become what it was always meant to be.

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It can be painful. Messy. And it doesn’t always look like progress. But that’s the paradox about becoming, isn’t it? Sometimes the deepest, most meaningful growth looks like falling apart, at least at first.

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You don’t get to grow unless you’re willing to shed. You don’t get to bloom unless you’re willing to let go of parts of who you were.

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And when you start to see that breaking not as failure but as formation… you stop seeing yourself as weak for letting go. And you start seeing yourself as the person you yearn to be.

Finding Freedom in Letting Go

Greek philosopher Epictetus once said: “Freedom is the only worthy goal in life. It is won by disregarding things that lie beyond our control.”

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When I first read that, I understood it intellectually. But it didn’t really land until I began the practice of letting go. Each morning I practice writing down the fears, the regrets, the grasping… and releasing them.

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Because here’s what I’ve realized: Most of what weighs us down isn’t the circumstances themselves… it’s our grip on them.

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We hold tightly to how we thought the year should’ve gone. We cling to how others should’ve treated us. We fixate on the version of ourselves we meant to become by now.

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But those are things we can’t rewrite. And holding onto them doesn’t make us more responsible, it just makes us more exhausted.

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Epictetus wasn’t inviting us into apathy. He was inviting us into freedom. And that freedom, my friend, starts when we stop trying to control the uncontrollable…and start tending to what’s within us:

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Our courage, our response, our growth, our choice to release what no longer serves.

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Because when your hands are no longer clenched around what you can’t change you finally have the space to shape what you can.

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You have permission to let go. Not because it’s easy. But because it’s time. Letting go is how we rise.

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You don’t have to carry everything into 2026. Letting go is a courageous act of rising.

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And next week? We’ll begin looking forward. Toward who you’re becoming. Toward what’s possible when your arms aren’t full of yesterday’s weight.

But for now… just release.

Before we can rise into a new year, we have to create space for who we’re becoming. Most of us try to leap forward carrying everything from the year we’ve just lived—old disappointments, expectations we didn’t meet, emotions we never fully processed. But transformation doesn’t begin with addition. It begins with release. It begins with the courageous decision to set down what no longer serves the life you’re trying to build. ​ This week’s resource is a simple, powerful ritual inspired by a FAM member’s New Year’s Eve tradition. It’s a guided practice to help you name what you’re ready to let go of—and then symbolically release it. You don’t need the perfect words or the perfect mood. You just need honesty. Let this be the moment you unclench your hands, loosen your grip on the past, and make room for your rise.

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In the mornings, before I do anything else… before the laptop is opened, before the world asks anything of me… I sit down with my journal.

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And I write. I don’t focus on problem-solving or try to be clever. Instead, I open myself to release. Every morning, as part of my journaling process, I write this:

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“I let go of all pain, sadness, sorrow, and uncertainty that I have no control over.”

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“I release all desires, wants, and fantasies that are outside my control.”

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Some mornings, the words and conviction come easy. Other mornings, it’s much more of an effort and takes real focus and intentionality to let go.

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But regardless of how hard it feels, I write them anyway.

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Then I breathe. And in that breath, I imagine lighting the page on fire.

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Just like Kay’s family does on New Year’s Eve. Just like Penny’s seed, cracking open to become something new.

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There’s no audience. No outcome. No performance. Just the quiet practice of not dragging yesterday into today. And I’ve come to believe this is one of the most sacred things we can do.

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Because so much of life teaches us to accumulate. To carry more. To add. To perform. To hold it all together. But the journal doesn’t ask that of me.

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It just asks me to be honest about what’s heavy… and to set it down.

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There’s something holy in that. A kind of invisible strength that builds over time, not in dramatic breakthroughs, but in small acts of release.

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Not loud.
Not flashy.

Just a man with a pen and a page… choosing to begin again.

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Every single morning.

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Maybe this is your morning to begin again, too.

P.S. Would you do me a favor? Block off 10:00 AM the morning of January 1st for a little quiet time. It may just be the single most important thing you do for yourself in 2026. Next Sunday, I’ll tell you why… and what we’ve been building just for you.

We’re on a mission to empower one million people to live Fully Alive, and you’re one of them!