Sometimes, change begins in the most unexpected ways.

When was the last time you were truly moved by a conversation? For me, it happened last week during a one-hour Flourish workshop with college professors. What unfolded during those 60 minutes wasn’t just a lesson in mental health and well-being; it was a powerful reminder of how even small moments of shared humanity can spark connection and plant the seeds for cultural change.

A Surprising Start!

We kicked things off with a light icebreaker: “Raise your hand if you’ve made a New Year’s resolution.” 

Hardly anyone did (which I wasn’t expecting!). Instead, there was this ripple of laughter as people playfully acknowledged their lack of resolutions. That small moment of shared humor broke the ice in a way I hadn’t planned. It reminded me of something so simple, yet so important: how quickly walls can come down when people feel seen, and how human moments—however small—can create connection.

From there, we shifted into a conversation about why so many New Year’s resolutions fail. Research finds that only about 9% of Americans who set resolutions actually complete them. We talked about how it’s not a lack of motivation or discipline that holds people back, but often the approach they take.

People tend to focus on what they should do—eat healthier, exercise more, spend less time on their phones. But when those changes feel like chores or obligations, it’s easy to fall back into old patterns. 

That’s where the idea of making habits enjoyable (what motivation researchers call “intrinsically rewarding”) comes in.

We explored how adding small, enjoyable elements to a habit makes it more likely to stick. For example, if someone wants to exercise more, pairing a walk with a favorite podcast or playlist can make the walk more fun. Or if the goal is to meditate more regularly, turning it into a shared practice—like swapping favorite guided meditations with a friend or doing a short session together—can make it feel more meaningful and fun.

The key is to find ways to make habits feel intrinsically rewarding—so they’re not just things we’re forcing ourselves to do, but things we genuinely want to keep doing.

The Science of Well-Being, Made Personal

One of my favorite moments during the workshop was diving into the PERMA framework: Positive Emotion, Engagement, Relationships, Meaning, and Achievement.

Rather than presenting it as abstract theory, we slowed down and made it personal. We explored how each pillar shows up in daily life and, more importantly, how small, practical strategies can help strengthen them—both at work and at home.

When we talked about Positive Emotion, I shared one of my favorite exercises: “Three Good Things.” It’s a simple practice—at the end of the day, you pause and reflect on three positive moments, no matter how small. It could be a great cup of coffee, a kind word from a student, or even the feeling of sunshine after a rainy week.

In that moment, we paused to find our own “good thing” right there in the room—huge windows framing a blue sky and beautiful trees in the distance. It was a small reminder of how good moments are always around us, if we just pause to notice.

We Are Shaped by—and Shapers of—Culture

Throughout the workshop, I shared a lesson that has profoundly shaped my own thinking, thanks to my dear mentor at Stanford, Professor Hazel Markus:

Culture isn’t just something we inherit from our environment—it’s something we shape.

It’s easy to think of culture as this big, intangible thing that happens to us. But the truth is, we influence culture every day in small, meaningful ways—through our actions, values, and conversations.

For example, we can create a culture of celebrating small wins within our teams simply by suggesting we take a moment to acknowledge them more often. These small changes—whether it’s pausing to express gratitude, checking in on someone, or showing self-compassion—can create microcultures that prioritize connection, care, and well-being.

After the session, one professor shared a thoughtful reflection with me. He talked about how students today often come into class with their headphones on, keeping to themselves and avoiding interaction. He admitted it’s been hard to break through that isolation.

But as we talked, he realized that small changes in how he structures his classes could help spark something bigger. By creating intentional moments of connection—like group projects or check-ins—he could shift the classroom culture from one of disconnection to one of care and community.

I was deeply touched by how thoughtfully he approached this—immediately thinking through practical ways to create a more connected classroom. It reminded me that fostering culture change doesn’t always require grand, sweeping gestures. Sometimes, it starts with the smallest acts of care.

Embracing Emotional Awareness and Self-Compassion

One of the conversations that stayed with me most was when we were discussing emotional awareness and self-compassion.

A participant—a nurse who had been a front-line worker during the pandemic—shared her story. She spoke about how, during that incredibly difficult time, the stress of work was compounded by losing loved ones. She kept pushing through, bottling up her emotions because there simply wasn’t space to process them.

But the more she suppressed her emotions, the more they built up until they would spill over in unexpected moments.

“I’d be folding laundry,” she said, “and suddenly I’d just burst into tears. That’s when I realized—you can’t outrun your emotions. They’re always there, trying to tell you something.”

Her story hit me hard. It echoed my own experience during grad school, when I ignored my stress and overwhelm in the name of productivity. I kept telling myself to “power through”—until my body forced me to stop. I ended up with shingles, a painful, physical reminder that bottling up stress isn’t sustainable.

This conversation made me reflect on something my PhD advisor, Professor Jeanne Tsai, has found in her research: in the U.S., we tend to avoid negative emotions more than in many other cultures. We often treat emotions like sadness, anger, or anxiety as things to push away or fix.

But avoiding emotions doesn’t make them go away. It simply means we’re suppressing them—and suppressed emotions don’t disappear. They sit quietly in the background, waiting to surface, often in overwhelming ways.

As the group shared stories of moments when they’d ignored or avoided their emotions, there was a collective sense of recognition. We’ve all done it—tried to push through difficult times without acknowledging how we’re really feeling.

What stood out was the shift that happened when we named those emotions. Sharing our stories sparked a collective feeling of compassion and understanding.

By the end of that conversation, we all seemed to feel a little lighter. There was a sense of permission in the room—to stop running from our emotions, to listen to what they’re telling us, and to treat ourselves with the same kindness we’d offer to a friend.

Moving Forward

Every workshop leaves me feeling more inspired than when I walk in. They’re moments of reflection—not just for the participants, but for me as well.

What makes these moments so rewarding isn’t just sharing research or offering strategies. It’s the real, human connection that unfolds. Every time someone opens up with a story or personal insight, it deepens my understanding of this work and reminds me why I do it.

At Flourish, we talk a lot about well-being—but I’ve come to believe it’s not just about individual practices. It’s about how we show up for each other. It’s about creating spaces where people feel safe to be vulnerable and building cultures that prioritize care and compassion.

These workshops remind me, again and again, that change doesn’t have to start with something big. It can start with a conversation. And those conversations, when done with intention and heart, have the power to ripple outward in ways we can’t always predict—but that we can always hope for.

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