This week marks an unusual convergence of transitions. Lunar New Year ushers in the Year of the Snake, Ramadan begins, Carnival reaches its climax before Lent, and a solar eclipse crosses the sky. In astrological terms, Saturn and Neptune both enter Aries at 0 degrees—a super rare alignment that astrologers consider highly significant. Whether you follow these traditions or simply notice the cultural momentum, the theme is unmistakable: endings and new beginnings are in the air.

All of these transitions point to the same underlying question: how do you want to contribute? Not in some distant, abstract future, but starting now, with the constraints and opportunities you actually have. As someone who observes Lent, I find it is useful here because it operationalizes that question—it turns contribution into a daily practice rather than a vague intention (more on this below). That's also the animating idea behind the workshops I'm launching this season.

I’d love to hear from you- What's one way you're thinking about contribution differently this season—whether through what you're adding, subtracting, or simply paying closer attention to?

I love working internally with an organization. But sometimes organizations don’t have a critical mass of folks. Or people want to use their PD money to learn with people outside of their organization. For all of these reasons, I’m hosting three opportunities over the next few months.

When I was young, Lent meant one thing: what are you giving up? Chocolate. Soda. Muffins. Every year I would choose something and brace myself. The framework was simple. Growth meant deprivation. Devotion meant denial. If it did not cost something, it did not count.

Then sometime in my early teens, my mother introduced a different lens she had learned. I do not remember the exact moment, but I remember the question clearly: “What does giving up muffins actually do for anyone else?” Instead of subtracting, what if we added? What if Lent was about bringing something into the world? Giving alms. Extending grace. Creating something that did not exist before. Contributing, not just abstaining. That shift changed how our family approached the season. Lent stopped being about managing cravings and started being about offering something meaningful.

I think about that every time I watch a change initiative launch inside an organization.

Most leaders today are actually quite good at vision. They articulate a compelling why. They name the future state. They talk about impact and possibility and the difference this will make for customers or communities. The kickoff is often genuinely inspiring. And still, something predictable happens. Even when leaders launch with inspiration, the default internal narrative is sacrifice.

People hear, “This will be better,” and quietly think, “This is going to cost me.” More hours. More complexity. More scrutiny. Less margin. Less comfort. Less control. Unless someone is intentional about what happens next, that internal narrative takes over. The vision may be expansive, but at the execution level, people translate it into depletion. They brace. They tighten. They move into endurance mode. Leaders often do the same thing.

I saw this vividly when I was serving as Chief People Officer during the COVID vaccine mandate for NYC schools. Once vaccination became required, our HR team spent weeks on the phone with staff, helping them upload vaccination cards, tracking compliance, connecting people to appointment sites, and answering anxious questions. It would have been easy, and not entirely inaccurate, to say, “I know this is a lot. I know this is frustrating.” But that frame would have just reinforced sacrifice.

Instead, I kept bringing us back to contribution. I would say, “Five more teachers uploaded their information today. That means roughly 500 more students will have consistent instructional time tomorrow.” It was the same work. The same long days. But a completely different narrative. We were not just chasing paperwork. We were protecting classroom continuity, increasing stability for children, and reducing disruption for families. The effort did not suddenly become light, but it became meaningful in a very concrete way.

We are culturally conditioned to equate growth with grind, improvement with inconvenience, and change with loss. So unless we intentionally design for contribution at the execution level, people will rewrite your vision into something that feels extractive. Inspiration alone is not strong enough to counter that.

If you want people to experience change as meaningful rather than depleting, you have to operationalize contribution. That means naming not just the end state, but the capabilities people will build along the way. The clarity they will gain. The decisions that will become easier. The friction that will decrease. The skills they will strengthen. The ways their work will matter more, not just demand more. It also means reinforcing that narrative in the middle of the work, not just at the launch. In week three. In week seven. In the status update. In the late afternoon when energy dips.

The sacrifice narrative asks what this will cost me. The contribution narrative asks what this will allow us to build. Both are real. Only one sustains energy over time.

Giving up muffins never changed anyone’s life (at least, not meaningfully, to my knowledge). Building something that matters, though, just might.

If you are leading change right now, look beyond the kickoff deck. Look at the meeting agendas, the timelines, and the performance conversations. Listen to how you talk about the work when it feels tedious. Are you reinforcing sacrifice, or are you designing for contribution?

Because if you do not intentionally build the second, the system will default to the first. And most people are already bracing.

What are you helping people build, not just endure?

(BTWs, my Lenten resolutions are to shop local and to call or write one person per week that I’ve been meaning to get back in touch with. Feel free to hold me accountable when you next see me!)

End every decision-making meeting with: "Who else needs to know what we just talked about, how will they find out, and who's responsible for making sure they do?"

This is how Netflix's former CTO Patty McCord closed meetings. It kills the "I thought you were telling them" problem before it starts and makes information flow a conscious choice, not an afterthought.

Example in action: Your leadership team just decided to pause a program due to funding gaps. Before people leave:

Takes 90 seconds- and prevents damaged trust and mixed messages later.

SparkHire’s AI Hiring Toolkit- I just discovered this resource- it has specific AI prompts and GPTs to help you in hiring (assuming you don’t have a solid talent partner). I just started playing with it and (a) I think it’s helpful in giving inspiration on how to use AI on designing roles and interview processes, I also think it’s lacking one key piece: prompting AI with the context of your organization. AI can help you to the extent you give it necessary information- is this role on a growing v. stable team? Is there a high level of uncertainty in this role? Are you 10, 50, or 100? Are you getting ready to raise and/or launch? These all require different skill sets, and AI can be helpful here- if you give it the right information.

How Designing with Disability in Mind Sparks Innovation- From a former client, I learned the concept of designing in the margins- a methodology that centers the most marginalized in the design process. This article elaborate son this and shows how designing with disability in mind sparks creativity and unleashes numerous benefits.

Your Meetings Suck- Here’s How to Fix Them- I always joke that planning meetings should be like a lesson plan. This episode of the Next Big Idea shares that you should think of meetings like a product. Rebecca Hinds, an org behavior expert, shares some of the why behind sucky meetings and gives practical tips (I love the idea of using AI to track speaking time).