feeling stuck, spinning, or just tired? read this-

In 1859, Lincoln gave a speech at the Wisconsin Agricultural Society. At the time, the country was reeling from the aftermath of the Panic of 1857. Banks had failed, unemployment was high, and corn and wheat prices had fallen.

In that context, Lincoln emphasized the importance of education, the dignity of work, and the cultivation of moral character. As fate would have it, Lincoln became president two years later, and our young country was tested. 

We’re now 100 days into 2025. It feels like the world is spinning faster and faster, yet somehow we’re stuck. It’s loud and chaotic but at the same time, lonely.

We’re navigating so much all at once: Unrest here and abroad, seasonal change, commuting back to the office, and at a time when we could use wisdom, we’re watching the Secretary of Education confuse A1 with AI. To be clear, A1 is a delicious condiment, but it won’t innovate education. 

It’s okay to be stressed out. You’re human.

Just the other day, I had one of those moments. It was just the dogs and me at home, and I binged on Cheez-Its and White Lotus. It didn’t make me feel any better, but here’s a fun fact. The final episode of Season 3 of White Lotus and last week’s Whole Again episode share the same title: Amor Fati. The bonus is that nobody dies in my episode, and it will probably make you feel better. 

And as life becomes more bananas and expensive, it calls on us to be resilient. To stay awake. To return to the practices that keep us steady. Things like gratitude, nature, movement, music, community, and tap into voices you trust.

You may not be able to change the news or the weather, but you can pause. You can take a breath. You can reflect long enough to slow things down when the pace of life feels relentless. And in that space, you can take thoughtful action instead of being swept up in the chaos.

Even when we feel broken, we don’t have to repeat the past. The 1860s were a one-of-a-kind fracture. History might echo, as Twain has reportedly said, but it doesn’t need to repeat. We can learn. We can act. We can become whole again.

As Lincoln concluded his 1859 speech, he shared the following:

“It is said an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence, to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him the words: ‘And this, too, shall pass away.’ How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction!”

And then he added:

“Let us hope it is not quite true. Let us hope, rather, that by the best cultivation of the physical world beneath and around us and the intellectual and moral world within us, we shall secure an individual, social, and political prosperity whose course shall be onward and upward, and which, while the earth endures, shall not pass away.”

We are still a perfectly imperfect nation, but things are better than they were in 1750, 1850, and 1950. It’s up to us to ensure things are even better in 2050 and beyond.

Until all are free, none are free.
Happy Pesach to those observing Passover.

Michael

P.S.

Whole Again

Thank you to everyone who has listened, subscribed, and left a kind review for the Whole Again podcast. I made a slight pivot three weeks ago, and since then, we’ve moved from the top 3 percent to the top 2.5 percent of podcasts globally, which means more people are discovering how to feel whole again. TY! 

Rich Roll Podcast

A year ago, I had the honor of being on The Rich Roll Podcast. Rich, in his gracious way, described me as “the common man” compared to some of the high-profile guests he usually features. 

And honestly, I’ll take that. Give me the person with gray hair, a few wrinkles, scars, and grease under their nails who still shows up every day over the celebrity who’s lost touch with what the common person faces. 

And the best part of that interview has been meeting so many so-called “common” people who are extraordinarily uncommon.

888

This week, a friend asked me about this blog, which led me to do some digging. It turns out that this is post number 888. That number blows my mind. Growing up, I would have laughed if someone predicted this. 

I probably wouldn’t have gotten into college without my math SAT score. I’ve always loved math and economics. Writing? Not so much. You’ve seen the typos if you’ve been reading for a while or just last week. So you can trust me when I say that I don’t use AI or A1 (because I don’t eat meat), but I do like spicy salsa.

Like Steven Pressfield says, creating something is a dance with “The Resistance.” This blog is my dance. It’s public. It’s vulnerable. It’s hard.

It would be easy to skip it. To tap out. Especially since I don’t hear much back, aside from a few people pointing out the typos or when I challenge the president; however, I don’t write for feedback. I write because it helps me strengthen my ability to keep showing up even when it’s not easy, and I hope it inspires someone else to do the same.

Whether you’ve read just one post or all 888, thank you. I hope these reflections have created a positive ripple effect.

And I hope they’ve reminded you that you can do hard things, too.

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