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I’ll admit it: when I started feeling strong again after months of health recovery, I went full throttle. I said yes to everything. Planned all the things. Moved fast — because I could . But that overcommitment? It was just a shiny new form of hustle. Gratitude in action, for me, meant stopping long enough to notice my own pattern — and to thank my body for whispering, “Not this time.” It’s humbling, but also freeing, to remember that sustainability isn’t a finish line — it’s

When you’re a rebel entrepreneur, accountability can sting. We value freedom, autonomy, and doing things our own way — until someone we love reminds us we’ve drifted from what we stand for. This month, I’ve been reflecting on how grateful  I am for the people who aren’t afraid to lovingly call me out. Those moments of discomfort? They’re gifts wrapped in truth. Gratitude in action looks like saying: “Thank you for seeing me clearly enough to hold me to my values.” Because sus

Let’s be honest:  “gratitude” gets thrown around like confetti this time of year. But real gratitude — the kind that transforms your business — isn’t a list on a pretty notepad. It’s leadership in motion. It’s in how you pay your team fairly, even when it’s inconvenient. It’s in how you pause a launch because you’re listening to your body instead of your calendar. It’s in how you thank your clients not just for buying, but for trusting  you with their vision. Gratitude in act

October is a descent. The days shorten, the nights lengthen, and shadows stretch further. For many, darkness feels scary. But in truth, darkness is where magic happens. Seeds germinate in the dark. Dreams are born in the dark. Rest happens in the dark. Entrepreneurship is full of dark seasons—the times when the future feels uncertain, when you can’t see the full path ahead. But here’s the truth: you don’t have to walk into the dark alone. Community matters. Companionship matt

Nature wastes nothing. The leaves that fall become soil. The scraps of harvest feed the earth. What looks like decay is actually transformation. Your business can follow the same principle. Failed launches? Compost. They teach you what works and what doesn’t.Outdated ideas? Compost. They clear space for creativity.Disappointments? Compost. They deepen your resilience. I had a client whose launch fell flat—barely anyone signed up. She was crushed. But instead of abandoning it,

October nights glow with fire—candles on windowsills, bonfires in backyards, the quiet flicker of hearths. Fire is life-giving. It warms, illuminates, sustains. But it can also burn out of control. Entrepreneurship often blurs the line between passion and exhaustion. We love what we do—so we say yes to everything. We stay up late, push through weekends, pour ourselves out until we’re running on fumes. That’s not fire. That’s burnout. Burning with purpose looks different. It m

On the surface, fall looks like an ending. Fields are cleared. Branches are bare. The world feels quieter. But underground? Life is busy. Roots are strengthening. Seeds are tucked into soil, gathering energy for the spring to come. Your business has the same rhythm. There are seasons when growth isn’t visible—when it feels like nothing’s happening. But beneath the surface, transformation is unfolding. Think about it: the brainstorming scribbles in your journal, the late-night

Every October, nature performs the same ritual. The trees loosen their grip. Leaves—crimson, amber, golden—spiral downward. They don’t resist. They don’t cling. They trust the cycle. We humans, especially entrepreneurs, struggle with this lesson. We’re taught that success is about holding on, pushing through, and keeping everything alive—projects, offers, ideas—even when they’re draining us. But nature shows us a different way. Letting go isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom. A busine

Nature doesn’t waste anything. Fallen leaves, kitchen scraps, even decay itself—all of it becomes compost, feeding next season’s growth. In business, we have the same opportunity: to take what’s no longer working and transform it into wisdom, clarity, and space for what comes next. The problem is that we often resist letting go. We cling to offers we’ve outgrown, beliefs that shrink us, or habits that quietly drain our energy. Sometimes it’s fear, sometimes ego, sometimes sun

One of my core Rebel Rules is this: No Guru Pedestals. We don’t want followers—we want free thinkers. In a world that loves to sell formulas and one-size-fits-all systems, it’s tempting to believe someone else has the answer. But harvest season reminds us: the most potent wisdom is the kind you’ve cultivated through your own experience. The danger of the guru pedestal is that it tricks us into giving away our power. We tell ourselves someone else knows better, that their way

Balance has been sold to us as some kind of permanent state—something we should strive for and maintain at all times. But in reality, balance is fleeting. Just as the Autumn Equinox only brings equal day and night for a moment, so too does our personal equilibrium shift with the seasons of our lives and businesses. Rebels don’t need perfect balance; what we need is a relationship with the rhythm of our own energy. Hustle culture tells us we should be “on” all the time, endles

We live in a culture obsessed with the next thing—the next launch, the next client, the next milestone. But when we rush from seed to seed without pausing to collect the fruits of our labor, we rob ourselves of one of the most powerful forms of fuel: acknowledgment. September’s harvest season invites us to slow down, gather what has grown, and give thanks for the wins—large and small—that carried us here. For rebels in business, harvesting is not a luxury—it’s a necessity. It