What Is Sanchin?

Have you ever felt stuck, unsure why you’re off balance or struggling? The concept of "sanchin" — meaning "three battles" — offers a powerful tool to help you find clarity. 

I discovered this idea while studying Goju Ryu style karate, but its lessons extend far beyond martial arts. Sanchin reveals two universal truths: we strive to unify body, mind, and spirit, and we constantly navigate battles with self, others, and our environment. Once you understand these battles, you can take control and move forward with purpose.

During my most intense training days, I saw these three battles play out in real time:

My late karate Sifu Cheung Shiu-kwong and me at the Hong Kong University dojo.

1. The Battle with Self: Some days, I was my own worst enemy. My body felt tired or injured, or my mind became my saboteur. Whether it was a lack of confidence, distractions from work, or personal struggles, I often found myself fighting against my own limitations. The broader question is: how often do we let our own motivation, discipline, or mindset hold us back?

2. The Battle with Others: On other days, my opponent became the greatest challenge. Even when my body was strong and my mind focused, the sheer skill or intensity of my sparring partner tested me. This mirrors life’s challenging relationships—whether it’s conflict, competition, or collaboration, other people can become our hardest battles.

3. The Battle with Environment: Then there were days when the environment was the real adversary. Training in a sweltering, non-air-conditioned room for hours pushed me to my limits. It wasn’t about winning or losing; it was about enduring. In life, our environment can either lift us up or drag us down. Is the space too noisy, quiet, toxic, or limiting? Are we surrounded by negativity or restrictive beliefs?

Sanchin isn’t just a martial arts practice; it’s a framework for life. When you feel off balance, ask yourself: Which battle am I facing? Is it with myself, someone else, or my surroundings? This simple question can guide you to the root of the problem and set you on the path to resolution.

The beauty of sanchin is its clarity and applicability. It reminds us that challenges are inevitable, but with the right mindset, we can face them with strength and purpose. By unifying your body, mind, and spirit, and identifying the battles you’re fighting, you’ll find the resilience and clarity to move forward.

Coda

When conducting interviews in a noisy dining car, we made time. Standing amidst the sun-baked wreckage of a hurricane, we made time. At the headquarters of a startup that sold for a cool billion, we made time. On every story, my colleagues and I follow one simple practice:

We always build in a little time.

Time for what?

Throughout my career gathering documentary-style interviews for stories featured on broadcasts including the Today Show, the Olympics and Innovation Nation, we’ve always ended shoots by recording about 30 seconds of “room tone.”

For those unfamiliar, room tone is the ambient sound captured to smooth audio transitions during editing. What it looks like in practice is everyone stands or sits silently on set and waits until the audio engineer says they’ve got what they need. The end of most interviews includes that small, silent coda.

Sometime during the pandemic, those 30 seconds transformed into something deeper.

This Was A Chance To Close Our Eyes, To Quiet Our Minds, And To Breathe. Together.

Over the years, I’ve watched people agonize a little during this half minute of silence. They study the ceiling, look at their feet or wiggle away the discomfort. It went like that for a long time until I started reframing that silence as an opportunity for a mini-meditation. 

It doesn't matter if the mood is high or low, silly or somber, this collective silence has power in it. When I’ve explained on set for the interviewees what we’re about to do, I let them know they can do as they wish with the silence, maybe even meditate. Almost everyone embraces the opportunity.

Try Being In Intentional Silence With A Group Of 5 To 25 People Sometime.

It’s an interesting study. It’s a little like an awkward elevator ride but with everyone facing each other, and without the elevator music — the kind where that big metal box groans out a yawn and you think it’s broken and nobody knows where to look so they avert their eyes while ears are alert for detection of strange noises or the ‘ding’ that prompts an exhale when you’ve reached your floor.

But close your eyes together, and inventors and grandmothers, athletes and entrepreneurs, curators or chefs all seem to savor the safe silence. 

Whether you work in classrooms, boardrooms, or on construction sites, taking even brief pauses for calm can yield measurable benefits. I wish I could tell you I had a metric for you from our shoots, but I don’t. I can tell you that upon opening our eyes after that little break together usually makes you want to take a nice deep breath, maybe even sigh.

Meditation reduces anxiety, promotes mental clarity and bolsters well-being. It transforms.

The next time you find yourself in a team meeting, workshop, or group setting, try carving out 30 seconds for intentional, collective silence. It could be at the beginning of a brainstorming session or in the middle of the day.

What you’ll likely find is a unifying force—a collective calm that strengthens bonds and sharpens minds. A moment of silence has always been a powerful connector and creates a sense of oneness. But use it as a coda not just a commemoration and I bet you’ll create a collective corner of calm.

Story: What Difference Does It Make?

Some may say a story is a dispensable sidebar to life. Some may say a story can’t house, feed or clothe anyone. But it can. What is every GoFundMe sharing? A story. Stories are the currency of connection; they ignite empathy, drive action, and foster resilience.

Even in the dark, devastating days of the Los Angeles fires, stories not only survive—they multiply.

A story is born when neighbors gather to salvage a doll, a book, or a bowl that survived the fire. A story is born when strangers cook meals or donate money. A story is born when a brave firefighter rescues your dog.

In your family, just as in business and leadership, stories carry weight. Stories connect us to our loved ones at home, and to our teams at work. In all cases, stories connect us to our community.

We need to remember that stories can heal and empower us too, while creating meaning in our lives.

Most of all, your family story is a record, a piece of history, an eternal contribution to your family legacy. And it makes all the difference in the world.

What Do We Do? (Part 2)

Knowing how to offer help when the scope of human, animal, structural, and plant devastation is as massive as what we are seeing with the Los Angeles fires can feel paralyzing. Our contributions can feel insignificant. They’re not. No act of genuine help is without value.

What do we do? We do as the boy did with the starfish.

We do as the hummingbird in the forest. 

Yesterday, I shared the story of the boy and the starfish. If you missed it, here’s a brief retelling: A boy walked along a beach littered with thousands of stranded starfish, throwing them back into the sea one by one. A man questioned his efforts, asking, “What difference will it make? There are so many starfish.” The boy responded, “It made a difference to that one.”

Today I’m adding another story that supports the truth that no true help is insignificant. This one is about a hummingbird. My friend shared it with me and it comes from an African parable by Wangari Maathai. She is a Kenyan environmentalist who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2004. 

A great forest is burning while all the animals stand around wondering what to do. The elephant, the hippo, the lions … all of the most powerful animals. 

Meanwhile, a hummingbird buzzes by their heads carrying a single drop of water in her beak. She flies to the fire and releases it onto the blaze.

The giraffe laughs, and the rhino shakes his head. 

“You’re too small! What are you doing, tiny one?” they all scoff.

The hummingbird replies, “I’m doing the best I can,” as she buzzes away to get another drop of water. And with that, they get to work.

The story about the boy and starfish, and the story about the hummingbird in the forest share the same call to action. And they echo the beloved Margaret Mead quote which has longevity because it contains truth: 

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.”

The way each of us can contribute is ours alone, shaped by our unique abilities and perspectives. And maybe we need to be reminded that we can make a difference. We can ease suffering. And our acts, tiny or mountainous, will ripple outward in ways we may never fully see.

When Stories Are Tragic, What Do We Do?

When someone is experiencing disaster or tragedy, as with the devastating Los Angeles fires, the scale of destruction can make individual efforts feel insignificant. 

But I’m reminded of the story of the boy and the starfish and the profound difference one person can make.

He made a difference by throwing starfish back into the sea one by one. When asked what difference it made when there were thousands of starfish on the beach, he said, "It made a difference to that one."

While we can’t save a home or heal every hurt or heart, small acts of kindness—donating supplies, offering shelter, bringing food to a fire house or donating a dollar if that’s what you can spare —can transform lives.  Maybe your gift is bringing joy, sharing your art, your song.

For the starfish tossed back into the ocean, the boy’s action meant everything. Even if he couldn’t help every single one, he did what he could, one by one.  In times of crisis, even the smallest gesture has the power to restore hope. Together, these acts ripple outward, proving that each of us can make a difference. A friend with a front row seat to the devastation said to me today, “The beauty will come as people unite and support each other.”

Yes. And it’s already beginning.

I’m praying for everyone in Los Angeles whose lives and personal stories are forever transformed by this tragedy. For so many lifelong Angelenos, their childhood landmarks are gone - their school, their place of worship, their safe space, their home. May we support one another in lightening the burden for our neighbors near and far.

One thing I know for sure is that one day… with resilience… rebuilding, rebirth and renewal will happen. Each and every person will write brand new chapters in their life story. But for now, our prayers and love and unending support are with each and every hurting heart.

Legacy, Your Family and You

In the past year alone, the New York Times used the word legacy on more than 3,000 occasions. The mentions have a broad scope:

“Exploring Pittsburgh’s Legacy of Steel”

“Alicia Keys, Usher and Patti Smith Honor the Legacy of Gordon Parks”

“Marlene Dietrich’s Legacy Still Glitters”

What is legacy? Does it matter?

Some influencers preach the importance of establishing your legacy. Other people don’t think about legacy at all. That doesn’t mean they’re not leaving one. The people in the space between those extremes are an interesting group too. 

They may have built a lasting legacy. But they don’t do what they do for personal recognition or for ego. They’re the ones who lead a life of honor, love and sacrifice. The ones who show up, imperfect, yet always entrenched in the values and character that shape their personal constitution. 

Some people aim to leave a legacy for their own sake. But the latter leave a legacy as a gift to generations who follow, providing a trail of information, lessons or opportunities, offered with no strings attached to people they may never know.

In its noun form, legacy is defined as “something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past.”

So, legacy is not inherently positive. It can be negative. And it can be neutral. And legacy can take many forms. However it is characterized, and whatever shape it assumes, legacy lives in stories. Your family legacy lives in your family stories.

What stories do your family members hold that you might like to preserve? What about your own personal odyssey up to now? I bet your nieces or sons would love to know some of the details you have lived, but they just might not yet know to ask.

It’s personal for you. And it’s personal for me. I’ve been immersed in these conversations this year since I’ve been hired to gather stories and help others preserve their family legacies. Gratifying doesn’t begin to describe it.

I’m currently in the process of going through transcripts from recent interviews with people who opened the door to their heart for me. Some stories are really funny. Some are heartbreaking. Some are just fascinating. All are expanding my scope of human compassion.

They’re real experiences, stages of personal or professional evolution, memorable lessons, and in some cases traumas that were so poignantly shared… that upon hearing them, I could feel my blood stirring or my own respiration changing. This is human connection. This is the oneness of being. This is the power of story. 

The traditions and unique characteristics of each person have a finite window of availability. If they’re not gathered, one day they’ll be gone. Forever. Unless, that is, a family member, matriarch or patriarch gets intentional about gathering family stories now. It’s not about stirring up pain. I know the prospect of this can cause defenses to rise. It doesn’t have to be comprehensive. It’s about gathering what you can while you can. Some history gathering is better than none. 

In 2025, maybe you’d like to try this: Ask, “Would you tell me your story about …” 

And wait for the lights to go on in someone’s eyes. You won’t have to wait long.

However you start the process, I encourage you to begin gathering the memories, the stories, the voices, the quirks, and, yes, the recipes too. First, it’s fun. Second, it breaks familial ice. Third, it makes each person feel seen and heard.  

Whether you write the stories down or record them on audio or video, the important thing is just to begin. What I’ve discovered in my service for others is that the mere idea of starting the journey of gathering stories sparks new conversations within families. It bridges divides. It brings vitality and energy. 

There are DIY books and apps that can facilitate a similar end. The annual Christmas invitation of a friend announced to her family to “come bearing stories.”

Will you be intentional about preserving some family stories in 2025? 

I say this again and again: It curates a culture of curiosity and caring within your family. It can be the simple pleasures, the minutiae, the mundane and the miraculous. It benefits those living now, and it’s a priceless gift to your family’s future generations.

I wish you a year of deep connections in 2025.

In the words of Ram Dass, “We’re all just walking each other home."

Creativity vs. Inner Critic

In our professional and personal lives, the nagging voice of the inner critic often serves as a gatekeeper, demanding perfection before creativity even has a chance to breathe. Shutting down that voice is one of the greatest acts of liberation we can gift ourselves.

What if following the pull of doing something that brings you joy is at odds with the voice of the inner critic? What then? 

As someone who has fought with my own inner critic, I know it’s daunting to create amidst the noise of negativity. Recently for me, joy and my inner critic went a few rounds over something I made: a 2025 Creativity Calendar. 

In the early rounds, joy was dominating. But the inner critic was only temporarily wobbled. Then she came back swinging.

(For clarity, the 2025 Creativity Calendar is simple. By doodling, drawing or writing in just one square a day for a year, you’ll nurture your inner child artist and create a sense of calm. Over time, you create your own unique pieces of art and a historical record of the year as told by your imagination.)

I shared the calendar with my newsletter subscribers a few days ago. 

That’s when my inner critic got loud. “It’s so basic. Who cares? What value will others see in its simplicity? No one will want that.”

Authors of The Tools, Phil Stutz and Barry Michels, would say the black cloud had taken over. The "black cloud" refers to a metaphorical state of mind where a person is consumed by negative thoughts, worry, and self-doubt, creating a feeling of negativity that hangs over them like a dark cloud. It's a concept used to describe a pervasive negative mindset that can be dispelled through practices like "grateful flow" which encourages focusing on positive aspects of life.

After about 24 hours in the black cloud, I emerged. 

The calendar is a way to practice unfiltered creativity—the kind that doesn’t care about accolades or outcomes. Every creative endeavor doesn’t need to culminate in an Emmy, a buyout, or social recognition.

Creativity is a practice, not a performance. Since the start of 2024 when I added the creativity calendar to my morning routine of reading, exercise, meditation, and journaling, the daily doodle has brought me some peace and amusement. But it’s more than that. 

Over the course of a tumultuous year, my 2024 Creativity Calendar tells a visual story of my highs, lows, and the gray zones in between—a story even my journal doesn’t capture. What might your 2025 story look like? 

By simply befriending a blank page with a colored pencil in hand, you give your imagination permission to play and your inner critic permission to take a much-needed nap. This act of small, consistent creativity has the power to shift how we approach both life and work, reminding us that sometimes, simplicity is the most profound form of expression.

Color Your Future

Close your eyes. Imagine yourself at age seven. See yourself in a comfortable space. Maybe you’re in your childhood bedroom on a slow summer afternoon. Can you see your hair as it looked back then, your outfit, maybe your missing front tooth?

Now see your eyes and your entire being locked in on a coloring book page with a box of crayons half spilled next to you. Your head is tilted. Jaw loose. Nothing else matters. Your inner artist is at work.

As adults, we neglect this little one.

I’ve created a 2025 Creativity Calendar as a way for us to engage this inner child and to color just one square a day for a year. After 365 days, you’ll have your own unique artwork reflecting your original historical record of the year.

Every creative endeavor doesn’t need to have a potential endpoint of an Emmy, a buyout or social recognition. I added the creativity calendar to my morning routine of reading, exercise, meditation and journaling. This daily doodle practice brings me calm and amusement.

Beyond that, it tells a story, maybe an unexpected one. Throughout the landscape of a tumultuous year, my calendar tells a story of highs and lows and gray zones beyond the one my journal holds. What might yours look like?

Befriending a blank page with a colored pencil in hand gives your imagination permission to play. And it helps to put your inner critic down for a nap.

Click for the 2025 Creativity Calendar digital download

Click the 2025 Creativity Calendar image here to download the digital document. Just print, staple and start.

And enjoy.

Don’t judge it. Just create.

Winter’s Quiet Invitation

Winter, with its biting cold and barren landscapes, holds an invitation in its stillness. 

The season invites us to pause, subtract, synthesize, and create. 

Amidst the cold, a personal and professional pot of creativity simmers. In the pause of the season, the question is: Can we remember to focus on its power and potential?

Winter teaches us, sometimes with an icy chill, that subtraction can be a gift. 

Trees shed their leaves, animals retreat, and the land pares back to its essentials. 

We, too, can let go—of old stories, tired character traits and emotional residue that no longer serve us. Winter’s austerity reveals what truly matters. This process of subtraction isn’t about loss; it’s about shoring up resilience. And it’s about preparation.

Can you think of a time when subtraction, in retrospect, was a gift in some way?

As though nature’s hand is helping us to create a clearing, in it we can discover seeds of ideas, habits, and creative projects. Unlike spring’s bright energy, winter’s slower rhythm moves like deliberate footsteps on fresh snow, encouraging thoughtful cultivation and growth. 

The song of the season is soft and steady, like the quiet, strong beat of a deep, slow drum.

Winter invites us to connect more deeply—with ourselves and others. It’s the perfect season to listen to a friend’s childhood tales or uncover the forgotten stories of our parents’ younger years.

Within this atmosphere, synthesis thrives. 

As if gathered in a rustic lodge near a copse of trees, the trio of inspiration, experience, and knowledge come together. From this meeting, connections emerge and weave a new fabric for our future.

Creation takes root. Long nights of darkness direct us inward, where imagination lives. Creativity is there.

The dormant appearance of the season is an illusion. This is a season of growth and innovation. 

Winter is proof that even in life’s coldest, most unpromising moments, there is potential for transformation. Winter’s true gift is its quiet reminder that even in stillness, life moves forward. 

For now, let it snow in sparkling flakes — tiny, magical, geometric reminders to look up at the night sky in awe — and pause, subtract, synthesize, and create.

TUNE IN TO TALES OF LIVING AND WONDER

 “During a sandstorm in the daytime, 

I could lay in the bunkhouse and 

watch the sand seep in through the light bulbs.” 

[Story shared with me by a woman who is 82 years old]

The start of that story is so visual. With one simple sentence, we are there.

In 2024, by asking new questions of new people, I’ve heard stories that are captivating and authentic. They’re visceral for the people sharing them, and they’re palpable for the listener. Can you think of a few stories you heard this year that moved you, dazzled you, mystified you, enchanted you? I bet more than a few of them connected you in a new way to the person who shared.

“One day my dad and grandpa saw some guys walking out of the woods carrying a bunch of fish. My dad said, 'Where have you been?’ They said, 'Into the next lake.’  Dad said, 'I didn't know there was another lake in there.’ Eventually my dad was presented with an opportunity to purchase property on that lake even though he didn’t have enough money to do it. He paid with chicken eggs every week over the course of an entire year.” 

[Shared with me by a man who is 82 years old]

These aren’t my stories. But I felt them deeply. Their words, their inflections, their emotion all stemmed from someone else’s personal human experiences and interactions. These stories tap into another place and time. They evoke imagery of environment and sentiment. They tell tales of living, observing and of wonder. They remind us of our common humanity.

Can you see your great grandparents when you look into the eyes of your relatives? 

Can you imagine the lives of ancestors in the eyes of strangers? 

Can you feel a sense of tradition and her story in the way your grandmother dressed or the sweetness she uses when she pats your hand?

2024 AND YOU

How can your family’s tales of living, observing and of wonder be harnessed today? 

Maybe you can be the one at your table this year who goes beyond the always meaningful question about gratitude. Maybe you can start a trend of learning just a little bit more, and taking the time to find out what people care about. 

Hear from the storytellers and the quiet ones. Wait in loving silence as the highly sensitive ones search for their words to share exactly what is on their heart. 

HERE ARE A FEW IDEAS IF YOU NEED A SPARK OF INSPIRATION:  

a. Ask each guest (family and friends) to write one story-related question on a piece of paper, then place them all in a bowl. Take turns drawing the questions, read them aloud, and have each person volunteer to share.

b. Ask: In what ways are you most creative? In what ways would you like to be more creative? (For example, I might say I feel most creative when I do photography. I’d like to be a more creative writer).

c. Ask: What are you not very good at? What are/were you really pretty good at?  (For example, I might say I’m not very good at small talk. But I am pretty good at listening).

d. Ask: What single area of learning gave your life direction, joy, hope or just pure fun?  (For example, I might say practicing martial arts).

e. Ask: What are five life lessons each person wants to offer to others?  (For example, I might say 1. Show up. 2. Get moving, in nature, if possible. 3. Trust yourself. 4. Keep learning. 5. When in doubt, assume good intentions.)

Maybe you're alone today. Try asking some of these questions of yourself. Get to know yourself better. Write down your answers or hit “record” on your phone’s voice recording app. 

Maybe you’re missing someone. If it feels right, perhaps you can honor them by sharing your favorite stories or qualities about them.

This holiday season, if you are fortunate to gather with others for food, friendship and fellowship, maybe you can allow connection and storytelling to be your nourishment. Maybe you can let curiosity be your sustenance. And maybe you can let listening to others as they share be the sweetest dessert you consume. 

You can start all of this the moment the door opens.

I challenge you to greet each guest with a statement or question you’ve never used with them before. What could you say to elicit welcome surprise, joy and warmth?

I’m cheering you as you establish a new dynamic through the magic of stories this year. No matter our age, only today is guaranteed. 

With love to you and yours!

Stephanie

PS: Tell me one of your short stories.