8 boxes. How many can you fill?

Morning,

Sooooo, what, we’re just at the end of the year now??

Because personally, it still feels like yesterday that we were in that cold-but-crisp Toronto Airbnb starting 2025 with too many bags and zero plan. And then… it blurs. I can skim through the whole year in my mind and still feel confused about how we got here?!

Anyway - the point I’m trying to make is, we’re officially in reflection-mode season. Social is flooded with aesthetic “year-in-review” templates and the ambitious goal-setting worksheets. And although you can probably hear the light sass in my tone… today’s email is sort of about that. But also… not really.

This isn’t about making you more efficient, wealthier, or more successful. Ironically, for many, it might reveal the opposite: that you need to work less.

This is about making sure you’re still making the most of you. 

It’s about checking in on all those random little interests, quirks, hobbies, and passions that make up your identity soup, and noticing how many of them you’re actually ending the year with. 

Because a few months ago, I realized that my 8-box grid was looking a little empty (again).

My relationship with the 8-box grid goes way back, and it actually played a big role in my move to Canada. I was first introduced to it in 2018, during a time when I was wrestling with some big, existential questions that I couldn’t see my way through.

My dad told me to go to his bookshelf, pick a random book, open it to a random page, and see what answer showed up.

The book was Feel the Fear by Susan Jeffers.
The page introduced me to the 8-box grid.

Jeffers’ point was simple but profound: we often over-identify with one area of life, and when that box wobbles, everything feels shaky. At the time, my life had narrowed down to just two boxes, and suddenly, I had my answer.

It’s a deceptively simple concept, and one I return to time and again. If you split your life into eight boxes right now… how many could you actually fill?

That’s what we’ll be exploring today.

You know the deal, go find a cozy spot, grab a good drink, and something to journal with.

I have a lesson, 3 questions and a dare for you.

[A LESSON]

Here’s the thing about being human in 2025: it is unbelievably easy to get engulfed by one part of your life.

And usually, it’s something good.

A job you’re proud of.
A safe, steady relationship.
A creative calling.
A business.
Kids you adore.
A community role.
Even the pursuit of growth itself.

When something matters to us, like really matters, it naturally expands. It takes space. It asks for more of us. And sometimes we’re happy to give it.

But if we’re not careful, the main thing quietly becomes the only thing. And that’s when we start to lose pieces of ourselves without even noticing.

It doesn’t happen dramatically. There’s no flare in the sky announcing that your once-vibrant box of creativity has now been swallowed by work. It happens quietly. Softly. A slow fade.

The parts of you who used to read for fun. The version of you who used to experiment in the kitchen. The you who took a pottery class, or joined a choir, or sketched, or made little videos, or danced badly-but-happily in a studio somewhere.

The parts that make you, you.

And here’s the deeply ironic twist: Those are the exact parts that make everything else in your life work better.

There’s a huge body of research to back this up.

If you’ve been hanging with me for a while, you’ll have heard me reference Linville and the Self-Complexity Theory. The idea is simple: the more distinct identities you have, e.g. friend, maker, athlete, learner, volunteer, partner, explorer, reader, the more resilient you are. She found that people with diversified identities recover from stress faster and don’t spiral as deeply when one area of life wobbles. If you’re interested, I explore it in more detail here.

But beyond just helping us ‘survive’, nurturing those little random parts of yourself is what allows you to thrive.

Psychologists refer to it as Identity expansion, the process of growing, reviving, or deepening parts of yourself over time. Research shows that when you expand your sense of self (even in tiny, playful ways), you experience boosts in meaning, engagement, creativity, and even your sense of future possibility.

And professionally?

There’s an entire field of Cognitive Flexibility research showing that this kind of “identity play” increases dopamine, improves memory, enhances creative thinking, and leads to better problem-solving at work. Employees with more integrated identities are consistently rated as more collaborative, more adaptable, and better lateral thinkers.

I could go on and on about this, as it’s the backbone of the workshops I deliver inside organizations (helping people work better and feel better), which is actually something I’m hoping to do more of in 2026, so if your company might be into this, let’s chat!

Having said that, the 8-box grid isn’t about squeezing productivity out of yourself, or hacking your way into “high performance”. It’s about asking a much quieter, more human question

How can you make fuller use of the person you already are?

Especially the parts that feel impractical, unprofitable, or unproductive. The parts you stopped tending to because you got busy becoming an adult.

For me, I’ve already identified that next year I want to spend more time investing in my creative hobbies, specifically singing/acting/dance. So Toronto friends: if you know any choirs or fun, low-pressure acting/theatre experiences, send me your recs. My inner musical theatre kid is ready to re-enter the chat.

This week, I’m not asking you to rethink your whole life or start setting SMART goals.

I’m just asking you to look at the boxes.

[3 QUESTIONS ]

FIRST - Draw your 8-box grid (you saw mine, it doesn’t need to be perfect).

Label the boxes: Work, Family, Friends, Alone Time, Play, Health, Personal Growth & Community / Contribution

Set a timer for 7 minutes, put your phone on DND, and start filling them in.

1. Which boxes are full?

2. Which boxes have been neglected?

3. Which boxes have been whispering - “hey, remember me?”

[A DARE]

This week, I dare you to gently start noticing how you might nurture the boxes in your grid.

I’m very aware of how intense these next few weeks might be, so this is not about a life overhaul. Think of this as a pencil exercise. Just start jotting down small, low-pressure ways you could pour into each box.

Under Play, you might write: dancing classes, travel, pottery, trying a new restaurant.
Not commitments. Just curiosities.

You might also notice which boxes are overflowing and ask where a little breathing room could be created. What could be softened? Shared? Released?

The goal isn’t perfection, it’s movement.

Jeffers reminds us that small, consistent actions across multiple areas of life are what create resilience and confidence. One tiny action in a neglected box - a short walk, a text to a friend, ten quiet minutes alone - is often enough to bring that part of you back online.

None of this needs to be implemented today. Just hold it gently as you move into 2026.

See you on a Sunday,
L