As humans, we’re hardwired to see threats everywhere. That’s the whole fight-or-flight response—our brains are still wired to keep us from getting eaten by a saber-toothed tiger. But here’s the problem: most of what we freak out about today isn’t life-threatening. And yet, our minds keep acting like we’re one nasty email away from a literal apocalypse. This fight-or-flight mindset? It’s inefficient and, frankly, exhausting. To avoid living in a constant state of fight or flight, we must release the black-and-white, binary perspective we often hold. This is where the concept of anti-fragility plays a crucial role. Antifragility is like the next level—it’s not about fighting or running but flowing. It’s the ability to take on challenges, adapt, and emerge better. Imagine getting through stress or problems and using them as fuel to level up. Here’s what that means practically: Instead of reacting to every challenge as a threat, you learn to see it as an opportunity to learn, change, and grow. If a relationship tanks, instead of retreating, you figure out what you can learn from it to build stronger ones in the future. If a job sucks, instead of burning out, you ask yourself how this can shape your next career move. Anti-fragility means you don’t just “bounce back”—you actually become stronger and wiser from each setback. The key is not to avoid stress or challenges but to develop a way of living that accepts them instead of denying or fighting against them. Embrace an attitude of being a student rather than insisting that life conforms to your wishes. This is how you stop reacting and start responding. It’s how you stop breaking down and start breaking through. When you stop fighting everything and learn to flow, life gets a whole lot less scary. Instead of surviving life, you’re actively using it to your advantage. Yes, anti-fragility is almost an unfair advantage.

Here’s an invitation to something greater than ourselves—a call to a way of living that leans into connection, empathy, and courage. It’s a simpler, more fulfilling path than the one many of us are walking today. We live in a world where disconnection has become all too common, judgment often drowns out our voices, and mutual understanding feels like a distant dream. But I believe there is a different way forward—one rooted in connecting with our innate wisdom and taking responsibility for our thoughts, words, and actions. Imagine a world where most people you encounter feel they matter—not just on their best days but also when they’re grappling with mistakes or difficult emotions. More importantly, envision a reality where you feel that you truly matter. Picture your relationships grounded in mutual respect rather than what we can extract from one another. Imagine choosing kindness, especially when it’s hard, engaging with those who see the world differently, and accepting the discomfort of these interactions, for that’s where real growth happens. Envision clarity around your values, allowing you to easily discern whom to invest your time with and make important decisions by asking, “Does this align with my highest values?” Can you see yourself moving beyond overthinking and procrastination? What if you could rarely feel offended by others’ opinions of you or your beliefs? Imagine releasing past regrets and resentments and never feeling burned out again. How liberating would it be to feel safer on your human journey and to live with more hope? Below is what I have titled for Easier Ways as our “We Believe” guide—a promise to live intentionally, honor every voice, and approach each conversation with empathy and openness. It’s about seeing each other as neighbors, not adversaries, and lifting each other up as we navigate life’s complexities together. Yes, these are my words, and I hope those who resonate with them will adopt some of my suggestions. However, autonomy is at the core of all this; you can take whatever you see as valuable and reject the rest. And even if you disagree with all of this, please consider that we’re not here on Earth to remain comfortable or to sit on the sidelines.

We begin our journey in life seeking comfort, whether through approval, love, or avoiding anything that evokes uncertainty. As children, we’re wired to reach for what feels good, and for a while, that’s enough. Then, in adolescence, we start negotiating with the discomfort that’s starting to come into our lives. This is the “bargaining phase,” where we test boundaries, trying to find ways around the hard stuff instead of facing it directly. We’re still hoping we can avoid pain if we bargain right, but deep down, we’re learning that discomfort and uncertainty don’t just vanish. Adulthood, though, brings us to a different realization: that discomfort isn’t something to dodge—it’s something to live alongside. This is where true resilience, or what’s sometimes called antifragility, comes in. Being antifragile doesn’t mean just making it through hard times; it’s about letting those hard times make us stronger, more grounded, and more aware of what really matters to us. But here’s the thing: our brains are wired to avoid pain and discomfort. They’re constantly nudging us toward what feels safe. And if we listen too closely to that voice, we’ll keep ourselves small, missing out on the growth and connection that come only through facing the hard stuff. What if instead of fighting against this pain, we leaned into it? When we confront our discomfort, not by gritting our teeth but by letting it in, we tap into a strength beyond endurance. It’s the power of vulnerability and the courage to trust ourselves. Every time we face discomfort, instead of avoiding it, we’re reinforcing our capacity to handle whatever comes our way. We’re showing ourselves that we can hold steady, even when the ground beneath us feels anything but. And maybe most importantly, discomfort becomes a doorway to compassion—not just for ourselves but for the person we love who’s struggling. This doesn’t mean ignoring boundaries or accepting broken promises without reflection; it means knowing that we can stand in our own strength while allowing them the room to struggle, too.

At the heart of human experience is this incredible gift—and sometimes burden—of being able to think about ourselves and the world around us. Thinking isn't just a brain function; it’s the scaffolding of how we create and understand our reality. We take in information, we make sense of it, and then we form beliefs about what’s “real.” This process happens not just in our conscious mind, where we know what we're thinking, but also deeply in our unconscious mind, where ideas and patterns shape us without us even realizing it. Carl Jung, one of the great minds in psychology, pointed out that for us to live meaningful lives, we need to combine the conscious and unconscious parts of ourselves. He called this individuation. It’s a bit like a journey to uncover hidden parts of ourselves, a search to find where our mind, heart, and soul meet and start to dance together. By the way, individuation isn’t a quick process. And it can shake us to our core because we’re facing parts of ourselves that we may have ignored or hidden away. Jung believed that when we integrate our conscious awareness with those shadowy, unconscious parts of ourselves, we start to realize who we truly are—not who we think we should be or who others expect us to be, but our authentic selves. It’s where we feel more “whole.” What I love about Jung’s idea is that it doesn’t suggest that we have to be “perfect” or fully understand everything about ourselves to live with purpose. It just invites us to look at the fuller picture, to embrace the contradictions, fears, and questions we all carry. This process of self-discovery, of learning to bridge our conscious thoughts with our unconscious patterns, teaches us compassion and the courage to live from our true, resilient selves. It’s where the roots of real connection with ourselves and others are found.

Can being smart actually make us more resistant to change? Absolutely. Because let’s face it: most of us hate being wrong, and the smarter we are, the better we get at building airtight arguments to prove ourselves right. Our brains will do mental gymnastics to protect us from the uncomfortable reality that we might not have it all figured out. When change knocks on our door, admitting we’ve been off track or that we missed something critical can feel like a full-blown identity crisis. It pokes holes in our confidence, stings our pride, and leaves us feeling exposed—and if there’s one thing we’re wired to avoid, it’s vulnerability. Here’s where it can get really ugly. When we’re too wrapped up in being “right,” we start using our intelligence to shield ourselves rather than to grow. We analyze, rationalize, and overthink until we’ve convinced ourselves that staying put is the “logical” choice. Why? Because letting go of certainty, even when it’s holding us back, feels like surrender. And we do not like being weak. But the irony is, avoiding change just because we hate being wrong keeps us exactly where we don’t want to be—stuck and suffering. We set aside the ego’s need for certainty to move forward and give that wiser, braver part of us a voice. Yeah, that's the part of us willing to risk looking a little foolish and learning along the way. Real change means making peace with the idea that we don’t know it all and allowing ourselves to grow, even if it means rewriting the story we thought we had all figured out. Which is cool. Owning our story means that we are no longer a character in this inner narrative; we are the author.