The Truth About Strength

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This newsletter serves a simple purpose → To help you build optimism, resilience and a solution-focused perspective.

Each week, I’ll share actionable insights that not only brighten your day but position you to be a leader within your own life and seize life’s opportunities.

Read time: 20-30 minutes.

Hello, Brighter Side readers! ☀️

Thanks for being here and for making space for these words in your busy week.

This edition is all about strength.

The kind of strength that shows up in how you use your voice, your experience and your influence on the people around you.

We explore the difference between pushing others down vs. pulling them up, and what it really means to leave people feeling safer, not smaller.

We also learn from the Artemis II crew about the power of a great team, and sit with two simple stories that remind us how much one moment (and one small action) can matter.

Here’s to using your strength in ways that help people stand a little taller this week.

See you on the Brighter Side,

Chris

P.S. Please feel free to send me feedback on how I can improve. I respond to every email.

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Strength is a word we humans toss around a lot.

“Stay strong.”

“Be strong.”

“I’ve got to be the strong one.”

But if you sit with it for a moment, strength is so much more than holding it all together.

Real strength shows up in how you use your influence on the people around you.

It’s in your tone when someone makes a mistake.

It’s in how you react when someone else shines.

It’s in what you do with your power.

Your experience.

Your voice.

Most of us carry some level of strength into every interaction.

The question is, how are you using it?

Are you using it to push people down?

Or are you using it to pull people up?

Becoming stronger doesn’t start in the gym.

It starts in your head.

Pushing down is easy.

It’s automatic and often quite lazy.

You see it when you snap at someone who’s trying, but not quite getting it right.

You see it when someone shares an idea and your instinct is to shoot it down rather than understand it.

You see it when you keep your hard‑earned lessons to yourself because “No one helped me, so why should I help them?”

We often dress it up as honesty or efficiency.

You know, like “I’m just being real” or “someone has to say the hard thing.”

But most of the time, pushing down stems from fear.

Fear there isn’t enough room.

Fear there isn’t enough recognition.

Fear that someone else’s rise might shrink you.

That’s scarcity at work.

Scarcity whispers to you softly:

If they rise, you fall.

If they shine, you fade.

There’s another twist here.

Many people mistake insecurity for strength.

The loudest voice in the room.

The person who never admits they’re wrong.

The one who has to win every conversation.

This can come across as confident or powerful on the surface, but often it’s just a shield.

A way to cover shaky self‑esteem and avoid feeling exposed.

What looks like toughness from the outside is more often a sign of someone trying very hard not to feel small on the inside.

When your strength is built on that kind of defensiveness?

It stops being a gift.

You use it to defend your stance instead of working together to move forward.

And over time?

This approach doesn’t just shrink other people.

It shrinks you.

Pulling up is different.

It’s deliberate.

It asks you to pause before you react.

Pulling up is when you choose encouragement over ego.

You notice potential (even when it’s rough around the edges) and you decide to support it instead of dismiss it.

You use your experience to help someone grow faster than you did.

You use your voice to create space for someone who doesn’t usually feel heard.

You use your visibility to shine a light on the people doing great work in the background.

That’s strength.

I see this clearly in parenting.

There are times when my kids make mistakes or act out.

It’s really easy in those moments to become frustrated or overwhelmed.

Especially if I’m already tired or stressed.

The first impulse can be to raise my voice, shut the conversation down and call it being firm.

But, when I take a breath.

Sit with them.

Talk it through.

And help them understand what happened?

That has a far greater impact.

And requires far more strength.

In those moments, I’m reminding both them (and myself) that you can mess up and still be worthy of support.

It’s the kind of response that builds trust and the confidence to learn from mistakes.

Instead of fearing them.

It also develops better problem‑solving skills and a foundation of open communication.

All good things.

And here’s the part many overlook:

Lifting others doesn’t drain you.

It actually fills you.

Psychologists talk about this as prosocial behaviour.

Choosing to help or support someone else on purpose.

Those who do this regularly tend to experience more positive emotions, greater life satisfaction and fewer persistent negative moods.

Helping others is strongly linked with feeling more connected and more alive in your own life.

There’s growing evidence that acts of kindness or support for others can also soften feelings of anxiety and loneliness.

They remind you that you’re part of something bigger than your own worries.

It’s like emotional compound interest.

The choices you make to support and encourage accumulate inside you and shape the culture around you.

Most of us don’t wake up thinking, “You know what, today I’m going to make someone feel small.”

Yet it still happens around us, all the time.

It might be a joke at someone’s expense that everyone laughs at (including the person in the spotlight) who then goes noticeably quiet.

It looks like the quick eye‑roll in a meeting when someone offers an idea that isn’t fully formed.

It shows up as that internal dialogue when you see someone else doing well and wonder, “Why them?”

These moments feel small.

They aren’t.

They reinforce stories about who belongs, who’s allowed to make mistakes and who gets to take up space.

Over time, these tiny pushes down shape your team, your friendships, your family.

And they shape you.

Because when you train yourself to scan for threats instead of possibilities, you stop noticing what’s growing.

You become more focused on where you rank over who you can support.

If you ever notice this pattern in your behaviour?

Here’s a gentle self-check:

Where might you be pushing down without intending to do so?

The answer requires self-honesty.

It requires letting go of any self-made excuses and reflecting on your motivations.

It involves acknowledging any discomfort or resistance you might feel and being open to understanding the underlying reasons.

This process can guide you to deeper awareness of how your behaviours align with your true intentions and values.

So you can choose a more rewarding path moving forward.

This is where it gets practical.

You don’t need a title, a budget, or a platform to be someone who pulls others up.

You need strong daily habits.

Small, consistent choices and conscious action.

Try these five small daily habits to make pulling others up second nature:

Speak belief clearly: Don’t assume people know what you see in them. Tell them. Be specific. “You handled that so calmly, I really admire that.” These moments stick more than you realise.

Share your ladders: Think about your knowledge, your opportunities and potential introductions as ladders. Pass them on. Recommend someone. Make a warm connection. Show them how you did something. What you share becomes part of your legacy.

Celebrate loudly: When someone succeeds, say it out loud. Send the message, drop the note, acknowledge it in the room. Don’t whisper it. Let it be heard.

Coach, rather than critique: When you see a gap, offer a path forward, not just a problem. Try, “Here’s a thought that might strengthen your approach,” instead of just pointing at what went wrong. Direction builds confidence while criticism alone builds fear.

Pull yourself up too: You’re not exempt from your own compassion. Notice when your inner voice turns harsh. Swap it for something more truthful and kind like “This is hard, but I’m learning,” or “I didn’t get it right yet, but I’m improving.” That is also a sign of strength. Self‑compassion is strongly linked with lower anxiety, less harsh self‑criticism, and greater resilience over time.

Each of these habits takes just a few seconds, but importantly, they change how others experience you.

And they change how you experience yourself.

Small, repeated actions are what create real, lasting change.

Not one big effort once in a while.

Every day, we’re writing our legacy through how we use our strength.

Not always in grand gestures or big announcements, but in the tiny, ordinary moments where someone crosses paths with you and walks away feeling a little stronger and more capable than they did before.

Each interaction leaves a trace.

Someone leaves you feeling a little heavier or a little lighter.

A little more discouraged, or a little more hopeful.

A little less sure of themselves, or a little more willing to try again.

You won’t always remember the details of those moments.

But they’ll remember how you made them feel.

We can’t control everything that happens in our lives.

We can’t control other people’s choices, the timing of opportunities, or every possible outcome.

But you do control this: How you choose to use your strength.

Do you use it to compare, compete, and keep things close?

Or do you use it to encourage, include, and lift others up so they leave feeling just a little taller than before?

That’s the legacy your strength is leaving.

One interaction at a time.

Here’s how I see it.

Actual strength isn’t measured by how many people you can stand on to feel tall.

It’s measured by how many you’re willing to lift.

Especially when no one’s clapping or keeping score.

When you’re unsure what to do?

Choose to pull up.

Every time you do?

You’re reshaping the kind of world you want to be a part of, the kind of leader you’re becoming and the legacy you’ll leave behind.

If you took an honest look at your last week, where has your strength been pointing?

More toward pushing down or pulling up?

And what’s one small adjustment you’re willing to make that directs your strength where you actually want it to go?

Use your strength so people feel safer.

Not smaller.

If you do that, you won’t just move through the world.

You’ll lift it.

Because when your strength leaves people feeling taller?

That’s the kind of power the world remembers.

Want to learn more about mental strength as a series of everyday choices?

Check out Amy Morin's video on letting go of unhelpful habits, choosing your response, and building real resilience:

In 1972, humans left the Moon and sadly, did not return.

Last week, four people climbed into a small spacecraft with the world watching and headed there again.

They are the crew of Artemis II: Reid Wiseman, Victor Glover, Christina Koch and Jeremy Hansen.

For ten days, they are flying farther from Earth than anyone has gone in more than fifty years, looping around the Moon and testing everything we need for future landings.

There’s something special about the Artemis II team.

The four astronauts on the first crewed lunar flyby since Apollo are somehow making the hardest things look effortless as they communicate and execute as one.

I love watching people who are incredible at what they do, do what they are incredible at.

On paper, this is a mission about hardware and milestones.

Up close, it’s four people and a masterclass in how far a small team can go when they trust each other.

Artemis II is the first crewed lunar flyby since Apollo 8.

It’s a test flight that will assist in paving the way for a long‑term human presence on and around the Moon.

One thing that makes it different from the Apollo era is more than just the technology.

It’s the way we get to experience it together.

In 2026, communication is easy and instant.

We can watch live interviews from inside Orion, see their faces as they describe the far side of the Moon and hear their words (almost) in real time.

For a few days, the world is looking in the same direction again

Fixated on a tiny capsule and a bright grey rock.

They’ve talked about how all the training in the world could not quite prepare them for the reality of seeing our planet and the Moon hanging in space.

How it feels “3D” in a way no simulator can reproduce.

From that distance, they describe Earth as an “oasis” in a whole lot of nothing, a beautiful place where we get to exist together.

And while it’s their mission to complete, it feels like we’re part of the story they’re writing.

On this rocket, each astronaut has their specific role but must also carry the bravery to face the unknown challenges of space exploration.

Reid Wiseman – the seat of responsibility: Wiseman is the commander. A Navy test pilot, former chief of the astronaut office and now the one ultimately responsible for the crew and the spacecraft. He talks about his role very simply: take care of the people, trust the teams on the ground and fly safely when the hardware is ready. None of it is about being the hero, all of it is about being responsible.

Victor Glover – the seat of precision and representation: Glover is the pilot. A seasoned test pilot and the first person of colour to travel to the Moon. He often frames the mission as something “for everyone,” and has said they “work for” the people watching on Earth as much as for NASA. What a grounded way to hold a historic role.

Christina Koch – the seat of endurance and detail: Koch is a mission specialist. An engineer, former station flight engineer and the first woman on a lunar mission. She holds the record for the longest single spaceflight by a woman, 328 days on the ISS, and has spoken about the “privilege and responsibility” of carrying so many women’s hopes with her. While staying laser‑focused on the tiny details that keep a crew alive.

Jeremy Hansen – the seat of perspective and humility: Hansen is a mission specialist from the Canadian Space Agency. A former fighter pilot and the first Canadian to travel to the Moon. He keeps coming back to the idea that this is bigger than any one person and that ambitious missions will include setbacks. Which is exactly why you need a strong team.

Together they deliver a collection of firsts.

The first woman, the first person of colour and the first Canadian to fly on a lunar mission.

All riding the same rocket.

Representation is not the whole story here, but it matters.

Somewhere on Earth, a girl, a Black teenager, or a Canadian kid is watching and updating what they believe is possible for themselves.

The part that has moved me most is how human this mission feels.

In one interview from space, the crew shared an emotional moment as they named a feature on the lunar surface “Carroll.”

In honour of Reid Wiseman’s wife, who had died from cancer.

You could see the tears as they described bringing her name, and her story, into their map of the Moon.

They’ve admitted that, despite endless hours in simulators, nothing really prepares you for seeing the far side of the Moon with your own eyes.

They laugh about how the real thing feels like the universe flipping into 3D after years of looking at flat screens and simulations.

And threaded through every conversation is an obvious mix of joy and gratitude.

Gratitude for the families who let them go, the teams who built the rocket, the kids watching at home, the people who will come after them.

Their teamwork feels real.

Not rehearsed.

They joke, interrupt and hand the microphone back and forth to each other, not caring who recieves the spotlight.

You can sense how much time they’ve spent training and learning how to live together in a very small space.

Here are three ideas we can borrow from this small team with a big goal:

You go farther when you share the cockpit: Artemis II works because each person leans into what they do best and trusts the others to do the same. The commander is not trying to be the pilot, the mission specialists are not pretending to fly the rocket, and nobody is a solo hero. While most of us will never strap into a spacecraft, we do sit in small teams. Where in life are you still trying to occupy all four seats? Notice one place where you could step back from “I’ll do everything” and let someone else’s expertise lead.

Practice hard, then let wonder in: These astronauts trained for years, understanding procedures and preparing for emergencies. And still, when they saw space for real? They let themselves be amazed and were fully present. The Moon in 3D, the fragility of Earth, the shock of seeing with their own eyes vs. thorugh a lens. Preparation and wonder aren’t enemies. You can be well‑rehearsed and still allow the actual moment to move you. Where have you been so focused on “getting it right” that you’ve forgotten to be astonished you’re even there?

Carry your people with you: From naming the “Carroll” crater after Reid’s late wife to talking about kids watching from living rooms around the world, this crew keeps making room for others inside their big (actually massive) moment. Our firsts are never just ours. When one person crosses a new line, they drag the line forward for everyone watching. Think about the “mission” you are on right now, be it big or small. Who are you carrying with you?

Watching the footage of Artemis II, I keep coming back to this:

Most of us don’t need more willpower.

We need better crews.

The four seats on this rocket are a reminder that you don’t have to be everything to everyone.

You have a role.

Your lane, a way you serve each situation best.

The magic happens when you sit fully in that seat and let others fill the rest.

What I love most is how this crew keeps letting us in.

The way they talk, share, laugh and cry on camera feels like they saved an extra seat for anyone watching from home.

A rare and powerful invitation to come along for the ride.

Putting it as simply as I can?

The world needs more people like the Artemis II crew.

So here’s the question I’ve been sitting with, which I now offer to you:

If your life right now were a little spacecraft on its way to something important, which seat would you finally stop hogging?

And who would you invite to strap in beside you?

Because while you can go pretty far on your own.

You can go a whole lot farther when you’re honest about what you bring, let others play to their strengths and embrace the journey together.

Collaboration and shared experiences propel you to new heights.

Offering perspectives and support that you likely wouldn’t have considered on your own.

When you invite others on your journey, you create a dynamic team that can navigate challenges more effectively and celebrate successes more joyously.

Because life at it’s absolute best, is a shared experience.

If you’d like to see the four seats in action, this interview from inside Orion shows exactly how they communicate, laugh and lead together:

This week I’m suggesting a book that focuses on how we show up for our own lives:

The Book of Ichigo Ichie by Héctor García and Francesc Miralles.

The subtitle sums it up: The art of making the most of every moment, the Japanese way.

Ichigo ichie is a Japanese phrase that roughly translates to “one time, one meeting.”

It’s the idea that this moment, right now, will never happen in exactly this way again.

Which it won’t.

When you start to look at life that way?

The smallest everyday moments start to feel different.

The authors first bumped into ichigo ichie by accident.

They were hiding from a sudden rainstorm in a Kyoto teahouse.

Watching cherry blossoms float down the street, when they noticed a little wooden sign with those four characters on it.

In that instant, as they experienced the rain, the tea and a stranger’s smile as she cycled past.

They realise this specific moment will never repeat.

And that it deserves their full attention.

From there, the book makes a simple but powerful point.

A lot of us spend huge chunks of our day either replaying the past or worrying about the future.

They suggest using your emotions as a quick check‑in.

Anger and regret often mean you’re stuck in what already happened.

Fear and anxiety often mean you’re living in what might happen.

Happiness, even in small flashes, tends to show up when you actually land in the present.

They use the image of cherry blossoms (from bud, to bloom, to fall) as a way of thinking about our own lives.

Kaika is the bud: that moment when something new stirs.

Mankai is the full bloom: that only appears if you keep showing up for what started.

The reminder behind it is encouraging.

That you can start this process at any age.

Too late is just a story we tell ourselves.

Here are a few simple ideas you can use day to day:

Notice the beginnings: When something lights you up treat it as a beginning, not a passing thought. Then turn it into action. Send the message, book the class. Small moves like this are how a spark becomes something real.

Use feelings as signposts: Emotions can tell you where your attention is.
Heavy, looping feelings often mean you’re stuck in what already happened. Racing, anxious thoughts often mean you’re lost in what might happen. When you notice this, bring your focus back to what you’re doing right now (breathing, making lunch) and give it your full attention.

Listen and look like it matters: Most of us have experienced talking to someone who is physically there but clearly somewhere else. A small shift can change that: Turn your body toward the person and soften your shoulders. Make natural eye contact, and ask a follow‑up question about what they just said. Rather than jumping straight into your own story.

Wake up your senses: Ichigo ichie shows up through your senses, not just in your head. Try sipping your morning coffee/tea without a screen. Paying attention to the aroma, and your first sip. Or putting your phone away for a commute and looking around. Take it all in. The sky, the buildings, the faces.

These are tiny shifts, but they all send the same message.

This moment matters.

It’s not fancy but it’s telling your brain that you’re present and paying attention.

Life doesn’t only change via big milestones and dramatic decisions.

It shifts inside the tiny, one‑time‑only moments we either rush through or actively choose to inhabit.

Moments like shared laugh with a stranger, the way the light bursts into your kitchen each morning or a conversation that goes that one question deeper.

I feel grateful that I learned to appreciate the present moment at a relatively young age.

When your mind is always fixed somewhere in the future or stuck back in the past?

You miss so much of what’s happening right in front of you.

The stuff that gives our days their colour and meaning.

It encourages a brighter, more intentional way of living.

When we appreciate that each moment we experience won’t repeat in the same way?

Noticing it, feeling it, and responding with more care becomes less a nice idea and more an everyday practice.

If you want to try, start small.

Then see what shifts in what you notice, and how you feel.

Please share; I'm always keen for great suggestions.

This week’s bright idea comes from a story you may already know.

The starfish on the beach.

I love it because it cuts right through that “it’s all too much” feeling and brings us back to the power of one small action.

An old man was walking along the beach at sunrise.
The tide had gone out and thousands of starfish were left stranded on the sand.

In the distance, he saw a young boy bending down, picking something up, and gently throwing it into the waves.
As he got closer, he realised the boy was tossing starfish back into the sea, one by one.

The man shook his head and said, “There are miles of beach and so many starfish. You’ll never save them all. You can’t possibly make a difference.”

The boy picked up another starfish and threw it into the water.
“It made a difference to that one,” he said.

This story is a great antidote to the thought, “It’s all too big, so why bother?”

The beach can feel a lot like our world right now.

So many problems, so much noise, so many people who need something.

When you zoom out too far, your whole system can slide into shutdown or numbness.

The starfish story pulls your focus back to the one thing.

The one person, the one moment right in front of you.

You may not be able to fix everything.

But you can choose to show up right here, today, in small ways that matter.

It helps to remember that our job isn’t to save the whole beach.

It’s to notice and act on our one starfish today.

It could be giving someone your full attention, or finally tackling a task you keep avoiding, or offering a kind word, or taking one small step toward a bigger dream.

When that familiar wave of overwhelm arrives, practise asking, “What is one thing I can do right now that would matter to this person, or to this situation?”

Then if “It won’t make a difference” pops into your mind?

Picture the boy on the beach.

Pick up your one starfish and act anyway.

That one move says more about your life than the whole beach ever will.

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