This Chinese New Year, the Year of the Fire Horse

Today is Chinese New Year's Eve. Traditionally, this is the night the whole family gathers. The night the stove never really turns off. The night you hear life before you see it. Chopsticks clicking, oil popping in the pan, someone yelling from the kitchen, "Don't touch that!" This is the night you're supposed to feel full. And tonight something's missing. I'll come back to that. Because this year is different, not just for me, for my sister, for my extended family, for a lot of families who won't talk about it out loud. And if you stay with me till the end, I'll tell you why this year might actually be the beginning of something better. See, when I sit down tonight The house is quieter. Not empty, just thinner. Fewer overlapping conversations, longer pauses between laughter. And the absence I feel the most is my girls. See, my girls aren't getting red envelopes this year. And before you react, before your body tightens or your mind jumps ahead, stay with me. Because this has nothing to do with punishment and everything to do with choosing life. See, my girls chose sides in something children should never have to choose sides in. Not because they don't love me, not because they're ungrateful. They chose what felt safest. When kids are placed inside adult conflict, they don't choose truth. They choose nervous system safety. And when unpredictability and tone and the place that feels explosive is normal. They choose that. And as a father, I can understand that. They're just trying to protect their mother. And if any of this already feels familiar in your body, that tight chest, that heavy to swallow, this is exactly why we run a free reset every Saturday at 10 AM. Not to fix you, but to practice not carrying this in your body anymore. I'll remind you again later. Just to know, there's a link below. Now let me take you somewhere else because there's a sound that you can hear. And once you hear it, you'll understand why tonight hurts and why it also gives me hope. See, in Taiwan during Chinese New Year's, my girls learned a ritual. They stand up straight, feet together, Hands on their side, and you can hear their breathing changed. And then one by one, they say the New Year's wishes in Chinese. Clear, focused, determined not to mess it up. And here's the part that still stops me. 8 months before that, they couldn't speak a word of Chinese. Not one. And since then, every year they've been doing that. They learned the 10 fortunes, the 10 health, peace, longevity, happiness, harmony, wisdom, safety, abundance, good fortune, and prosperity. 10 blessings spoken from memory. And when they finished, Grandma's face softened. Grandpa nodded slowly, pretending he wasn't emotional. Only then did the red envelopes come out. Not as payment, but as blessing. Grandma misses that day. She doesn't say it, but you can feel it when the room goes quiet for a second too long. Some losses don't shout, they echo. This year, my sister will still gather her family here. She'll invite a few friends and family, but the table is smaller than it used to be. Not because there's less love, because life thinned the room. People drifted, conflicts never repaired, some chairs stopped getting pulled out. That's how family really changes. Not with explosions, with absence. A chair you don't move one year is easier not to move the next, and eventually the floor forgets it was ever there. If you're listening and thinking, why does this hit so hard? That's your nervous system recognizing a pattern. And this is exactly what we practice in the free reset on Saturday at 10 AM, learning how to feel this without staying stuck in it. The link's below, and I'll bring this home in a minute. See, their mother is stuck in a reality where she's experiencing herself as a victim. When someone lives there, they don't see choices, they see threat. They don't experience repair, they experience danger. That doesn't make her evil, it makes her unhealed. And unhealed adults create impossible situations for children. And here's my part. I stayed too long, I absorbed too much, I thought endurance was love. My body knew before my mind did. Tight chest, shallow breath, jaws clenched even in sleep. Choosing life wasn't dramatic, it was necessary. So no, my girls aren't getting red envelopes this year. Not because I don't love them, but because I chose life. And red envelopes were never about money. They were blessing. This year, the blessing I give my girls is example. This is the year of the fire horse. The fire horse doesn't stay still to make others comfortable. It doesn't confuse endurance with virtue. It runs because that's what keeps it alive. Not reckless, honest. To my girls, if you ever hear this someday, You never had to protect me. You never had to choose me. You never had to carry what wasn't yours. I love you without conditions, without sides, without timelines. I will always be here as a calm place to land when your bodies are ready. And if any of this feels familiar, the grief, the silence, the tension in your chest, Come to the Free Reset this Saturday at 10 AM so you can practice not carrying this in your body anymore. Not someday, now. Link is below. This year, I don't curse what's missing. I bless what's becoming. Because sometimes the bravest thing you can do is to stop surviving and choose your life. Happy Chinese New Year's, the Year of the Fire Horse. Run true and choose your life.