What It Looks Like When Your Words Show Up in Real Life (A Reflection on Being Rooted)

There’s something quietly affirming when life starts echoing back what you’ve already named as true.

Since choosing my three words for 2026 - steady, rooted, and legacy - I’ve noticed how often they’ve surfaced. They've shown up gently, not loudly or dramatically, but almost insistently, as if they are tapping me on the shoulder to get my full attention. They've shown up in conversations. In reading. In moments of stillness I didn’t plan for. Each time, they’ve felt less like coincidences and more like gentle reminders that clarity often comes after we name what we need most.

I’ve learned over the years through my leadership journey that this is often how clarity shows up. Not all at once, and not with fireworks, but through repetition, alignment, and a growing sense of peace.

Most recently, I came across a post on Instagram by illustrator Bee Davies (@beedaviesillustration). It stopped me, not because it was flashy, but because it named something I’ve been feeling but hadn’t fully articulated yet. I found myself nodding along as I read her words. 

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A post shared by Bee Davies Illustration (@beedaviesillustration)

In her caption, Bee so eloquently wrote:

“But in nature, January is quiet on purpose. Life slows down. What we don’t see is the strength building underground - roots settling, foundations forming, preparing for spring. Without roots, there is no growth.”

That line, quiet on purpose, stayed with me.

So often, we treat January as a launching pad. A month meant for acceleration, urgency, and visible progress. We feel pressure to declare goals, prove momentum, and show evidence that we are moving forward. But nature tells a different story. One that values preparation over performance and depth over speed.

This is where rooted keeps showing up for me.

After a year marked by significant transition and loss, I’m learning that not every season is meant for outward growth. Some seasons are meant for anchoring. For settling into what remains true when roles change and circumstances shift. For allowing foundations to strengthen quietly, without an audience.

Being rooted doesn’t mean standing still. It means knowing what holds you steady when everything else feels uncertain.

That grounding makes steady possible.

Steady has become a reminder that meaningful progress doesn’t require urgency. It requires faithfulness. Showing up again today. Making small, consistent choices. Trusting that the work happening beneath the surface matters, even when there’s nothing visible to point to yet.

And when I hold steady and stay rooted, I’m reminded of the third word that continues to surface: legacy.

Legacy has reframed how I think about growth. It’s helped me zoom out and see that what I’m building now isn’t always meant to be immediately seen or measured. Some of the most important work we do shapes people, perspectives, and futures we may never fully witness.

Roots don’t announce themselves. But they determine everything that grows.

As I move into 2026, I’m less interested in rushing toward what’s next and more committed to honoring what’s forming. To trusting the quiet work. To believing that alignment doesn’t always feel exciting, but it does feel right.

And maybe that’s the invitation for all of us this January... to slow down on purpose, to let our roots settle, and to trust that growth will come... in time.