Preserving What Matters Most

I’ve been on a jam streak lately. Jars and jars of it. I’ve traded school books for recipe books. Self-employment is sticky, smells like rhubarb, and involves a nap a day.

Sometimes, I feel guilty for not sitting at a laptop for nine hours. Shouldn’t I be hustling more? Marketing more? Wearing something with buttons and brushing my hair? I catch myself blurting out, “Oh, I’m still working! I’m very busy!” to anyone who asks. But really, it’s just different now.

After years of infertility, miscarriage, surgery, and IVF — all while working full-time, navigating a pandemic, earning a master’s degree, and starting a business — my whole being just wants to… make jam. Walk with Nixie. Get my hands dirty in the garden. Read fiction. And have deep conversations with clients about their own transitions, grief, joy, and purpose.

This slower pace — one I don’t think I’ve experienced in over 25 years — has reminded me of something essential: I’m not just preserving jam. I’m preserving myself.

Canning has become a metaphor for the kind of leadership I believe we need more of. It’s intentional. Seasonal. It honours cycles of energy and rest. You don’t rush it. You prepare now to nourish what matters later. That’s the rhythm I want to live and lead by.

And I believe our workplaces could reflect that too.

As leaders, how would you respond to these questions:

• Are you modeling rest as much as you measure KPIs?

• Do your teams feel resourced, or are they running on fumes?

• Is your culture built for the long haul — one that preserves energy, creativity, and well-being?

  
  

Success doesn’t have to mean burnout. The future of leadership is regenerative — rooted in values, purpose, trust, and care. To create healthier, more sustainable organizations, maybe it’s time we move from pressure cookers to slow-simmering kitchens —spaces where urgency is replaced with intention, and performance is grounded in purpose.

This isn’t about slowing down for the sake of it. There will always be seasons to sprint.

But let’s be honest:

How many people suffer heart attacks shortly after retiring — because their bodies never learned how to rest? How many miss out on raising their children, drift away from aging parents, or lose relationships to the grind — because late nights and early mornings became the badge of success?

Over time, our values may get buried under urgency. And meaning gets lost in the hustle.

We have but a short time on this earth. Are you enjoying it?

If you’re reimagining what leadership can look like in this season of your life — and exploring how to preserve what truly matters along the way — let’s jam.

(Yes, it’s a terrible pun. And yes, I’m sticking with it 😉)