January often pulls our minds into a familiar rhythm: set goals, name intentions, imagine a future “better” version of ourselves. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that—but I’ve been noticing how often those goals live slightly out ahead of us, disconnected from the life we’re actually inhabiting right now.
When we’re under chronic stress, our nervous systems are often focused on getting through the day, staying afloat, or simply keeping things from falling apart. In those states, it can be surprisingly hard to access what truly matters to us. Not because we don’t care—but because survival mode narrows our field of choice.
Last month, we explored integration—the idea that real change happens when what we know is practiced and embodied in everyday life, with support, rather than pushed through effort. This month, I want to build on that by turning toward values—not as ideals to strive for, but as something we can access more clearly when our nervous system has enough capacity to choose. When values are accessible, integration becomes more possible.
As I was thinking about my intentions for 2026, I found myself pausing in a different way—not because I lacked clarity, but because I wanted to understand how I was arriving at these goals in the first place. I’ve often said some version of “I don’t really do resolutions,” not because I don’t value intention-setting or growth (this is my work), but because I’ve been wary of goals that feel disconnected from something deeper—ones that quietly fade because they aren’t rooted or grounded.
As I brainstormed goals this year, some felt energizing and true, while others I could already imagine fading within days or weeks. That very human pattern made me curious: what might change if I oriented less around goals or behaviors themselves, and more around the values underneath them?
Rather than asking, What do I want to accomplish? I began asking, What do I want my life to be about—and how do I want to be in relationship with it, right now, and across the days and months of 2026?
I recently heard this quote by Rick Hansen that stayed with me during this process: “Humans can endure a great deal when they have a meaningful why.” For me, values feel less like something to strive toward and more like something to orient toward—again and again. A kind of north star. An anchor when life inevitably gets a little rough.
What I’ve come to notice, though, is that access to that “why” isn’t constant. When I’m overwhelmed, rushed, or emotionally flooded, my values don’t disappear—but they become harder to feel and act from. In those moments, choices tend to come from urgency or self-protection rather than deeply rooted intention.
This is where nervous-system awareness matters. When the nervous system has enough steadiness, goals don’t disappear—but they arise more organically. Through tracking our experience—especially moments of steadiness, connection, or ease—we gain clearer access to what genuinely matters to us. In those moments, a goal becomes less of a demand placed on a future version of ourselves and more of an expression of something already alive within us. Following through feels less like self-discipline and more like alignment—not perfect or constant alignment, but something we can return to again and again.
What I’ve also come to appreciate is that this relationship works in both directions. When I notice myself moving out of my zone of resilience—feeling more activated, constricted, or pulled into urgency, or on the other end, feeling flat, disconnected, or shut down—returning to my values can offer a gentle way back. Not as a “should,” but as a compass. Even when I’m outside my resiliency zone, values can quietly remind me of who I am and how I want to move through the world.
Sustainability, then, isn’t about staying regulated all the time. It’s about tracking our internal experience, tending to connection, and using both nervous-system skills and values to help orient us when things feel dark or unclear. In that way, values don’t pull us toward some distant future—they help us begin acting from ourselves, right here, within the conditions we’re already living.
This is why resiliency-informed work begins with noticing and tracking the nervous system—because staying connected to our internal state is what allows values to become something we can actually live from, rather than hold only as ideas.
When we have enough internal capacity—enough steadiness, safety, and space in the nervous system—we gain access to what matters most. Values become easier to feel and name, and choice becomes more available. Without that capacity, even deeply held values can be overshadowed by urgency, habit, or self-protection. This is true individually, and it’s just as true in relationships, teams, and organizations: the ability to act from values depends less on willpower and more on whether people have the capacity to pause, notice, and choose rather than react.
This matters not only individually, but collectively. At work—and even within our families—it invites an important question: do people have enough internal capacity to live from the values their organization or family names?
Values can be clearly articulated, but when nervous systems are overwhelmed, urgency and habit tend to take the lead. When capacity is supported, values move from ideas into lived culture—something people can feel and act from, rooted in meaning that goes beyond a paycheck or a benefits package, or simply getting through the day.
In my one-on-one work, and in the work I do with organizations, leaders, and teams, this shows up most clearly through attunement. Attunement isn’t something you check off—it’s an ongoing practice that depends on regulation, safety, and enough internal space to notice what’s actually happening, both within ourselves and between us. When that capacity is present, values like care, integrity, and collaboration can move from aspiration into lived experience.
Before exploring values more directly, it’s often helpful to pause and notice what can make them harder to access. When internal capacity is stretched thin, values can quietly shift from lived orientation into something more effortful—rules we try to follow or standards we measure ourselves against. This isn’t a personal failing; it’s a nervous-system response to pressure, disconnection, or overwhelm.
I’ve been looking more closely at values themselves, especially the subtle way they can turn into conditions of worth. Instead of asking, What should I value? I’ve been experimenting with a different question: What do I want my life to be about? When there’s more steadiness and space, values tend to feel quieter, truer, and more spacious—less like rules to follow and more like invitations that gently guide how I want to live.
When I notice a value carrying a lot of “should” energy, I try to get curious. Often, that “should” is a signal that I’m outside my resiliency zone—operating from pressure, comparison, or disconnection rather than choice. As capacity returns, values soften. They become less about proving or performing, and more about remembering what matters, offering direction even when things feel uncertain or unclear.
You might come to the next section with values already identified, or simply with a felt sense that something matters but isn’t fully named yet. Either way, the practice below offers a supportive place to explore—by building enough steadiness to listen for what’s already there.
Identifying & Strengthening Your Values (Through the Nervous System)
If you’re looking for help with goal-setting, there’s no shortage of information out there. And just because it’s February doesn’t mean you can’t pause, check in with what matters, and create opportunities for alignment—right where you are.
Before we begin, I want to name something important: this isn’t a practice of deciding your values. It’s a practice of tracking and noticing.
Values are easier to access when the nervous system has enough steadiness and space. So rather than pushing for clarity, this practice invites you to slow down, track your experience, and let values emerge from within.
You might move through one prompt today—or return to these over time. And, I gently invite you to carve out some intentional time to do this. 🙂
Begin by Creating a Little More Capacity
Before journaling or reflecting, take a brief pause.
You might:
create some space in your environment and day
feel your feet on the floor
notice what’s supporting you in this moment
look around the room and name a few things you see
notice where there might be some space, ease, comfort or neutrality in the system.
Let’s begin.
1. Look Toward What You Admire
Bring to mind people you admire, feel warmly toward, or deeply respect.
Not what they’ve accomplished—but who they are when they’re at their best.
As you reflect, notice:
What qualities or ways of being draw you in?
How does your body respond as you think about them?
Often, what we admire points toward values that already matter to us.
2. Remember Moments of Meaning
Recall moments when you felt deeply connected, purposeful, or alive—times that felt meaningful in a full-bodied way (sometimes called eudaimonic well-being).
Rather than analyzing the moment, notice:
What was present in you during that time?
What qualities or states of being were alive?
Let meaning be something you feel into, not explain away.
3. Write Forward (from the Inside Out)
Write a short letter to yourself one year from now:
“Hey — it’s 2027. I’m so proud with you for…”
As you write, gently track:
What you will celebrate
Not what you achieved, but how you lived
This often reveals values that feel sustaining rather than performative.
4. Notice Your Orientation
We can’t always control our circumstances—but we can notice how we relate to them.
As you reflect, consider:
How do you tend to receive information about yourself?
Is it filtered through what aligns with the best within you and what you care about? (hope, courage, compassion)
Or through old protective adaptations that once helped you survive? (defensiveness, protection, anger)
Over time, these orientations can shift—especially as capacity grows.
5. Values vs. Goals
Goals are outcomes. Values are directions.
Instead of asking, “What should I do?”
You might ask, “How do I want to live?”
Behavior tends to flow not only from values, but from the nervous system state we’re in when we act.
6. Let Values Inform Action
Values invite us to:
sense the best within ourselves
create the conditions that allow that version of us to emerge
meet obstacles without abandoning what matters
This isn’t about forcing behavior—it’s about supporting alignment.
7. Pause to Sense
As you journal or reflect on a value, pause and notice what happens in your body.
You might notice:
expansion or settling
warmth or constriction
ease, tension, or resistance
Aligned values feel different than imposed ones.
And fear doesn’t automatically mean you’re off track—it may mean this value needs more support, clarity, or capacity.
8. Clarify Your Core Values (with Curiosity)
Once you’ve identified a longer list (if you want a list, you can find a plethora online!), gently whittle it down first to five and then to two or three (max!) core values.
In order to get to 2-3, You might do this by exploring:
If this value were missing from my life…
When I think about this value, what kind of “more” am I longing for?
What does this value actually mean to me?
Is there overlap – does one value actually live in another?
When you get to your core values, then reflect on:
When I live in alignment with this value, I…
I know I’m out of alignment with this value when…
When does this value feel regulating or supportive—and when does it feel depleting?
(This can signal a “should” sneaking in.)
What old patterns or protective adaptations interfere with this value?
Bringing It Forward
From here, you can begin to add goals or intentions for the days, weeks, or months ahead—but in small, meaningful chunks of time. Think January–April rather than the whole year.
A simple notepad by the bed, used as a gentle yes/no check-in, can be enough—as long as your values remain visible as the anchor you’re returning to. Small check-ins tend to be more sustainable than big overhauls.
With care,
Laurie
