Less Is More for 2026: Choosing Stillness Over Striving

My mantra for 2026 is simple: less is more.

I don’t know about you, but 2025 felt heavy. And strangely, it was also full. I experienced goodness, connection, provision, and beauty — often without having to chase it. As I sat with that tension, I realized something about myself: I have developed a habit of striving.

The Oxford Dictionary defines strive as “to make great efforts to achieve or obtain something.” And while effort itself isn’t bad, much of my striving last year wasn’t rooted in purpose — it was rooted in pressure.

Pressure to meet standards that weren’t even mine.

This is what your business should look like as a newly licensed therapist.

This is how much money you should be making.

This is how your content should look as a creator.

This is how your meals should look as a dietitian.

This is how strong your faith should be as a Christian.

On and on and on.

By December, I realized that the accumulation of standards does not equal a satisfying life. I wasn’t tired because I was working hard — I was tired because I was working toward other people’s expectations instead of my own authenticity.

So for 2026:

I don’t have big declarations or lofty resolutions. What I find myself craving is stillness.

Less Instagram.

Less noise.

Less proving.

More quiet.

More boredom.

More presence.

More feeling like a human instead of a brand.

I wonder if some of the clarity we’re all searching for doesn’t come from doing more — but from sitting more. From being alone with ourselves long enough to hear what actually matters. Why are we so uncomfortable with silence? Why do we reach for distraction when life feels uncertain? Why is peace so elusive when comparison is so available?

I don’t have neat answers for any of that. But I am committed to living honestly — even if the clarity comes slowly.

At the end of December, I released my first devotional, God in the Darkness, which was born out of that very space: learning how to sit with God when there are no tidy explanations, when faith feels fragile, and when life feels unclear. It’s a reminder to myself (and hopefully to others) that God is present not just in clarity — but in the waiting, the wrestling, and the becoming.

As you enter this new year..

My hope for you is this:

That you get to know yourself beyond algorithms and advice.

That you listen to your body without needing social media to interpret it for you.

That you have honest conversations instead of only curated connection.

That you rediscover what faith or spirituality looks like for you.

And that you choose authenticity — even if the answers never fully arrive.

Less striving.

More being.

That’s the life I’m choosing to practice.