
I woke up disoriented earlier this week, in a strange hotel room in the midst of holiday travels. Out of sorts, I gazed out the window at a not-so-inspiring view that included a chain link fence, a drainage area, and the beginnings of a brand new condo development.
Then I looked up.
After days of clouds, the last full moon of the year was beaming forth, despite my waking way past sunrise.
As I took a deep breath, out of nowhere, a deer bounded across the fenced-off area, legs bounding and tail flashing, impossibly exuberant.
Dear ones, some years are all rainbows and ocean views, and others seem to be nothing but drainage ditches and chain link fences.
No matter what is in sight at first glance,
may we always remember to look up.

There are few things more restorative to me than curling up with a good book. With that in mind, I’m glad to share my latest Honeybee reading list, with all best wishes for the new year.
Honeybee Book List – Winter 2023


On my way to visit family this week, I saw a man shouting at the TSA agents, a family sprinting to the gate in their pajamas, and a person so anxious to fly that they embraced their companion’s arm like a boa constrictor for the entire flight.
It wasn’t until I was settled in my own seat, gazing out at the solstice sunrise, that I realized I’d been holding my breath too. Wrapping up the last work project, packing a ridiculously large suitcase of presents, waking for the dawn flight… even though these were happy preparations, they were not full of calm and ease. I do not think I thanked the check-in agent properly. I know for sure that I was mad about the too-long line for coffee, as if it were an orchestrated personal insult.
Dear ones, it is a season of joy, yes. And also, it can be hard, in tiny ways and profound ones.
May we cultivate care, for ourselves and for others.
May we demonstrate grace.
May we honor the stresses and sorrows.
May we revel in each moment of joy.
There are few things more restorative to me than curling up with a good book. With that in mind, I’m glad to share my end-of-year Honeybee book list, with all best wishes for the new year.

Today I turned off the news and set aside the lists for a bit.
I read a poem as the sun rose.
I made cookies with a dear friend.
I viewed some footage of magnificent sea creatures.
I saw a tiny rosebud blooming beyond the frost.
Dear friends, our world is full of heartaches, yes.
And full of wonders, too.

These past days have been full of little sparks from friends. A random text about a ‘90’s TV star, a link to an online concert, an invitation for cookie baking – all shining out from a sea of other inbound messages.
Alongside these sparks were added glimmers from the season’s rituals. The tree-lighting ceremony in the park, the scratch of skaters in the ice rink, the subconscious humming along to holiday muzak – all linked to years of familiar fondness, just like those notes from friends.
When the days are sunny and bright, it’s easy to for the sparkles to be lost in the glare of bigger lights. But when darkness falls, whether literal or metaphorical, a spark can be a blaze.
Dear ones, as the days grow shorter, let’s gather up the light.

Legendary investor Charlie Munger passed away this week at the age of 99. Volumes have been written, and more will come, about Munger’s wisdom and his exemplary multi-decade partnership with Warren Buffett. What stands out most to me are two lessons, one from the very start of his professional life and one from the very end.
When Charlie was a young lawyer, he disliked the idea that his time was for sale to others, and decided to “bill himself” by working an hour a day on his own priorities instead of his clients’ projects. I’ve often caught myself putting obligations to others ahead of my own most important endeavors, and while there is an occasional whiff of nobility in this kind of self-sacrifice, it is not a path to either greatness or contentment. Munger’s example showed me that it’s possible to pursue independent dreams without forsaking others, nor abandoning common sense.
Near the end of his life, the most insistently repeated advice Munger highlighted was the importance of learning – endless reading, exploring, and engagement with the world and its ideas. In this past year’s Berkshire Hathaway annual report he was quoted,
You have to keep learning if you want to become a great investor. When the world changes, you must change.
Even more remarkable than the brainy parts of Charlie’s success is the fact that they were accompanied by constant wit. Warren noted in this same report, “I never have a phone call with Charlie without learning something. And, while he makes me think, he also makes me laugh.”
Dear ones, we might not all be destined to become 99-year old billionaires.
But let us be steadfast and true.
Let us invest in lifelong friendships.
Let us help each other to think.
Let us laugh together along the way.
A coincidentally timed and beautiful new edition of Poor Charlie’s Almanack , Munger’s collected wisdom, will be published this week – this volume comes highly recommended, especially since the original unabridged version is a bit harder to find these days.