vol I || Quiet Strength

I’m a little late to the whole reflection / resolution rhythm this year.

The start of 2026 was busy, beautiful, fulfilling, and tiring.

I ended 2025 in a country and culture I’ve felt drawn to since I was ten years old. If you grew up watching the 1998 World Cup, you probably know the Nike commercial I’m talking about. Brasil at the airport. If you know, you know. I had a ball glued to my foot ever since.

But even more meaningful than the football nostalgia was spending a full week on the beach with Jess’s family. Mom, dad, brother, aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews. Seven days of family time. It was heart-warming and affirming in a way that’s hard to explain without tearing up a little. It was fucking great, I can't wait to get back!

And as someone who resides on the introverted end of the spectrum, it was also deeply tiring.

Plus long travel back and straight into a fifty-session work week. I had no real buffer. No time to metabolize what I had experienced and what needed to move through me.

Early in the week I could tell there was a lot inside that wanted to be seen, felt, heard, understood. And I could also tell I didn’t have the energy to meet it yet.

So I avoided it, consciously...for the most part haha.

My chosen pattern of avoidance? Food, the sweeter the better, plus some light scrolling. In the small windows where I did check in with myself, I noticed anxiety. A swirling energy in my chest, restlessness, searching for something solid to grab onto.

Underneath it was fear.

A new year had started. I was clear on the outcomes I wanted by the end of it. But the path — the actual action plan — wasn’t laid yet. I knew where I was. I knew where I wanted to go. And I didn’t yet know how I was going to bridge the gap.

There’s a particular kind of fear that comes from that place. Not panic. Not dread. Directional fear. The kind that shows up when there’s a lot on the line and you respect it.

All week I kept telling myself the same thing: just get to the weekend. Create space. Breathe. Feel. Reorient.

And that’s exactly what I did.

This morning I woke up and moved slowly. Meditation. Yoga. A cold dip in the Sound. Hot chocolate and breakfast in a cozy coffee shop with a good book. I did it all with a simple intention: let whatever needs to come through, come through.

Fear showed up. Sadness showed up. Joy showed up.

None of it stayed forever.

At the end of it, I asked myself a simple question: What do I need this year?

Two words surfaced from somewhere deep. Not as a thought, but as a felt resonance that echoed through my body.

Quiet Strength.

I don’t have a single “word of the year.” But I do have a mantra. An anchor. A way of being that feels right for the year ahead and the resistance I know will be on the path.

So I sat with another question: What is Quiet Strength?

Here’s what’s been bubbling up so far.

Quiet Strength is steady. Capable. Dependable. It’s powerful without needing to be performative. Its presence is felt not because it’s loud, but because it’s grounded, confident, and true.

Quiet Strength is resourced because it uses resources. It asks for help. Seeks guidance. Welcomes feedback.

It’s clear on what it wants and needs. It doesn’t waste energy on fluff. It maintains aligned action without frantic effort or unnecessary force.

Quiet Strength welcomes resistance. Not because it enjoys it — but because it knows resistance is how strength is gathered. It meets friction with curiosity. It consistently chooses action over avoidance.

It can hold firm when others need rest or support — without carrying more than it needs to.

It’s hard to put your finger on. But you know it when you feel it. When you see it. When you embody it.

And it needs to be careful.

Quiet Strength can miss the fun if it forgets to loosen its grip. It needs reminders to be silly. To wander. To not take everything so seriously. Because what’s the point of the outcomes if you can’t enjoy the path?

Quiet Strength is aware without being attached. It doesn’t get swept away by big emotions — it holds space for them long enough to let them settle.

That’s what feels right for this season of my life. Not louder. Not faster. Deeper. Steadier. Truer.

And it leaves me wondering: What kind of strength do you need this year? Let me know in an email.

Cheers,

Al

p.s. if you want an easy way to see stories of other guys showing up for themselves each Sunday drop you’re email below. I’ll send them straight to ya!