My Word Of The Year Is Authority. I'm Still Learning What That Means.
On claiming your own life, the James Hollis rabbit hole, and why a four year old has more personal authority than most adults
If you’ve ever realized you’ve been living by everyone else’s rules except your own, this one’s for you.
I’ve been chatting with my girlfriend on Marco Polo about my word of the year. It feels almost comically formal. I’ve never been a word of the year person. And yet here I am.
There’s something powerful about ritualized moments. New Year’s, birthdays, any meaningful marker that invites a real commitment to growth. These timestamps let us iterate on our projects, processes, and possibilities. The three P’s.
This isn’t theoretical for me. A few years ago on January 1st I committed to a year of meditation. I’m now 1,099 days in. The secret wasn’t ambition. It was sustainability. I set the bar deliberately low: five minutes minimum. Most days I go longer. That practice has seeped into the smallest corners of my life. Reading for ten minutes while waiting for my middle schooler to get out of school. Walking the dog in actual silence instead of feeding myself an endless supply of productivity podcasts. Counting my breaths while doing the dishes.
I know. Very braggy. I own it.
The Word That Found Me
The word authority showed up through my 2024 immersion in James Hollis. I tend to become obsessed with older intellectual men, Rich Roll, Steven Pressfield, Robert Greene, probably because they remind me of my dad who died when I was 23. After reading three of Hollis’s books I had to confront an uncomfortable truth: I don’t really have authority over my own life.
It’s deeper than confidence or self-assertion. Carl Jung, who heavily influenced Hollis, saw personal authority as the capacity to author your own life story. To stand firmly in your own truth even when it conflicts with family dynamics, cultural expectations, or your own internal critical voice.
This lack of authority shows up everywhere in my life.
Money makes me flinch. Setting prices for my work, managing finances, even looking at my bank balance. I delete my daily account summary email before acknowledging it exists. My relationship with money lacks the quiet certainty that Mary Oliver hints at when she asks what you plan to do with your one wild and precious life. That question demands we claim authority over our answers. I’m still working up to it.
Solo ventures trigger similar fears. Producing a concert independently, playing piano for myself, publishing on my own platform instead of someone else’s. My nervous system does not enjoy any of that. Freeze, flight, or fawn. Every time.
The Four Year Old Problem
It’s fascinating to think that children naturally possess this authority before society teaches them to doubt themselves. A four year old doesn’t question whether they deserve to take up space or express their creativity. They just do.
Jealous.
I over-apologize, over-give, over-compensate. I tolerate toxicity from people who don’t value me. Or maybe just don’t like me. I can be a lot. I own that too. True authority includes accepting that not everyone will like you and that’s okay.
Sort of.
What Authority Actually Looks Like
In practical terms I’m beginning to understand that personal authority might be as simple as trusting my own experience over other people’s opinions about my experience. Or the pause before automatically saying yes. Or the quiet decision to spend money on something that feeds my soul. Or sharing work before feeling ready, not because I’m certain of the outcome but because I’m certain of my right to take up space.
Growing up is complex and I’m only now realizing that many authority figures in my life haven’t fully matured themselves. At almost 49 I feel like I’m just beginning this journey.
Just as my meditation practice started with five minutes and grew into something life changing, maybe authority grows the same way. Through small daily acts of trusting yourself, setting boundaries, and choosing to author your own story.
One small act at a time.
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