Rise with Purpose, Live Honorably, Lead Courageously, Love Unconditionally

Acquisition & Action: Discovering the Power of Intentional Inaction

The body content of your post goes here. To edit this text, click on it and delete this default text and start typing your own or paste your own from a different source.

The body content of your post goes here. To edit this text, click on it and delete this default text and start typing your own or paste your own from a different source.

The body content of your post goes here. To edit this text, click on it and delete this default text and start typing your own or paste your own from a different source.

The body content of your post goes here. To edit this text, click on it and delete this default text and start typing your own or paste your own from a different source.

The body content of your post goes here. To edit this text, click on it and delete this default text and start typing your own or paste your own from a different source.

The body content of your post goes here. To edit this text, click on it and delete this default text and start typing your own or paste your own from a different source.

Sit In It… Experience It… Learn From It Some days, sadness feels overwhelming, almost tangible, as if it’s trying to teach us something we’ve yet to learn. Today, I find myself in such a moment—sitting in sadness, letting it wash over me, tears coming unbidden. I don’t often linger here, but today, I feel compelled to sit with it for a moment. Why? I can’t quite pinpoint it. Perhaps it’s a deep longing to be better—better than I was, better than I am, better than I ever thought I could be. Or perhaps it’s the weight of realizing I haven’t always lived up to the man I’ve aspired to become. It’s easy to catalog the ways I could have been more: more kind, more patient, more compassionate, more present. I could have been more diligent, more understanding, more thoughtful. I could have loved more—deeper, better, and with more intention. The adversities of life have often distracted me, frustrated my purpose, and shifted my focus inward when I should have been outwardly focused on others. And yet, as much as regret can pull us into despair, perhaps sadness has its own purpose. Perhaps sadness invites us to pause, reflect, and grow. Sitting in sadness doesn’t have to mean wallowing in it. It can mean experiencing it, letting it teach us, and learning from it. Perhaps the tears and the ache remind me of what I do not want to be. They remind me of the kind of man I should be and the man I still desire to become. Sadness can become a teacher if we let it—a mirror that reflects not just the brokenness but also the possibilities. Maybe it’s here to show me that I can still be kind, compassionate, patient, and empathetic. That I can still learn to be more present, more thoughtful, and more loving. Maybe sadness is enabling me to see through the smoke, guiding me toward clarity and a deeper understanding of myself. As hard as it is, perhaps I’m meant to sit in this sadness for a moment. To let it shape me into someone who can better serve others, help them feel seen, and guide them toward joy, peace, and fulfillment. So today, I sit with it. I experience it. I learn from it. And when the sadness lifts, I’ll emerge as someone more thoughtful, more loving, and more attuned to the needs of others.  Because maybe that’s the purpose of sadness—to deepen our humanity, broaden our capacity for love, and remind us of the human we’re striving to become.