Choose to Become Better

Recently, I’ve been drawn to the Japanese art of Kintsugi, especially through Candice Kumai’s book Kintsugi Wellness. Kintsugi is the practice of repairing broken pottery with lacquer and highlighting the cracks with gold—honoring the damage rather than hiding it. The result is something even more beautiful and valuable because of its imperfections.

That idea mirrors the human experience. Life can break or change us in profound ways, but when we choose to heal or reroute our paths intentionally, those fractures can shape us—adding depth, resilience, and meaning. Growth comes from acknowledging both the good and the difficult, and doing the work to move forward.

A related philosophy, wabi-sabi, embraces simplicity and imperfection. It teaches us to find beauty in the imperfect and to accept uncertainty as a natural part of life. Like the idea of letting go of what we can’t control, it invites peace in releasing expectations and making space for what comes next.

Over the past few months, I’ve seen this truth play out in real life. Several leaders I’ve worked with chose to step away from demanding careers after experiencing stress, each making a deliberate decision to realign their lives with what mattered most. One left to live more simply and intentionally, another redirected her energy into meaningful nonprofit work, and my immediate manager, who is one of my favorite leaders I've had in my career, chose to build something of his own from the ground up. None of these decisions were easy or without risk—they required letting go of stability, identity, and long-held expectations. What emerged was a clear pattern—a trifecta, the quiet power of three—revealing the same truth: growth often begins the moment you choose a different path.

That realization made their choices feel even more profound. What struck me most wasn’t just the courage it took to make these changes, but the clarity behind them. They recognized that staying the same would come at a greater cost than changing. In choosing a different path, they weren’t walking away—they were stepping toward growth, purpose, and a more sustainable way of living. Watching them has been a powerful reminder that change is not something to fear, but something to embrace. It is often through these moments of disruption that we rebuild ourselves—stronger, more aligned, and ultimately better than before.

In a few months, I’ll be traveling to Japan with my family, and I find myself most drawn to a moment waiting for me in Kanazawa—the birthplace of nearly all of Japan’s gold leaf. There, I’ll learn Kintsugi, the art of restoring broken pottery by filling its cracks with lacquer and tracing the fractures with gold. Now that I understand its meaning, it feels like more than an experience—it feels like a reflection of something deeper I’m still learning to see in my own life.