My mentor and dear friend will be in surgery later today.

 

Some of my other friends are waiting on diagnoses.

 

I see my kids every other week.

 

I’m closing a chapter on a friendship that’s no longer aligned with my direction.

 

Heavystuff...

And then there’s the news—Charlie Kirk, Rob Reiner, murders, affairs, division, misinformation, miscommunication…  insanity.

Yet it’s Christmas.

And I wanted to share a perspective that may help—not to lose hope (maybe I’m projecting a bit  ), but to actually help things become better.

Christmas—and all the holidays in this season of light—are about hope, innocence, miracles, and love.

 

That may sound childish, weak, or naïve when we’re facing real problems in our lives and in the world.

 

I understand that reaction.

 

But it’s often the simple and beautiful things that get dismissed precisely because of their power.

 

Don’t let that happen.

 

There is hope—and Christmas helps us remember it.

 

I once heard the story of soldiers during World War I who, on Christmas, laid down their weapons. They shared food, sang together, and even played games. For a brief moment, they put their differences aside and chose connection.

 

That’s Christmas.

 

Today, our challenges look different.

 

We’re not facing each other on physical battlefields—but many of us are caught in wars of isolation, information overload, anxiety, and distraction.

 

We silently suffer, sometimes without even realizing it.

 

What I see missing is connection, clarity, and meaning.

 

We need those things like we need oxygen. Life doesn’t make sense without them.

 

Some say, “I’m fine. I have my money, my phone, my games, my distractions.

 

We have AI now—we don’t need each other.”

 

But then why aren’t we happy or fulfilled?

 

Because things don’t make us happy. Love does.

 

There were experiments where babies were given food and shelter but no touch or affection—and they didn’t survive.

 

Love isn’t optional. It’s our oxygen.

 

Christmas reminds us of what’s at the heart of life.

 

When I take my mind to that higher perspective, I remember there is always hope.

 

From there, I find clarity about how to face what’s in front of me—personally and in the world.

 

For me, Christmas is also a reset.

 

A chance to forgive what I’ve been holding onto—justified or not.

 

To let it go and simply say, “I love you. Merry Christmas.”

 

If we can do that for a day… a few hours… or even a moment—remembering what truly matters—that we only have so much time here, with each other, with life itself—then maybe we can extend that moment.

 

Maybe someday we will have 1 day when we are disconnected and 364 where we are loving and caring.

 

Wouldn't that make more sense?

 

It can happen... and I believe it will someday.

 

Life is such a gift, yet so often seen as a burden. But that’s not the truth.

 

My vision is simple:

One positive thought at a time.

One client at a time.

Pouring love into my kids.

Trying to be an example of care, gratitude, joy, and real love.

 

Because even in the midst of what looks like chaos, life is still good and deeply meaningful—whether things go our way or not, whether people stay or pass on.

 

We always get to choose:

To be a force for good.

To be grateful for our live and a blessing to those around us.

 

So thank you for being in my world and for reading the thoughts I’ve shared this year.

 

Whether you’re with loved ones or alone, know this:

 

Love is at the center of who you are.

 

Trust it. Bring it forward. Let it make this season brighter—for you and for those around you.

 

And if you’re facing conflict or illness, (so sorry) consider laying your differences aside, even briefly.

 

Find that inner space the soldiers found.

 

Our minds—and hearts—are powerful enough to do that.

 

That love is who we are at our core.

 

That’s what Christmas is here to remind us of.

 

I hope you have a wonderful holiday—but more than that, I hope you discover love, peace, hope, and joy within yourself and allow it to become your new normal.

 

Much love and blessings,

Bert