Meena's Newsletter May 2026

The Hidden Cost of Being the One Who Gets It Done

If you’re the reliable one, this may be shaping your relationships more than you think.

There’s a particular kind of person people come to rely on.

The one who follows through.
The one who keeps things moving.
The one who can see what needs to happen next and makes sure it does.

Maybe that’s you. It has certainly been me. I’ve often been someone who steps in and follows things through. Someone others can rely on when something needs to get done. At times, people have even described me as a “force,” and I can feel the truth in that. There is a real capacity I have to move things forward and bring ideas into form. Naming that feels important, not as ego, but as clarity.

And this is where discernment matters. This energy is a gift. It can be in deep service. It can be an expression of seva. And it is not always needed. There are moments where our roles genuinely call for us to step in. And there are moments where the same impulse is no longer service, but habit. Where we move too quickly. Where we do not leave space. Where systems begin to rely too heavily on us.

At 46, this is the edge I am learning to feel more clearly. Not to shut down the energy. But to meet it with lightness and wise discernment. To ask, more often: Is this mine to carry? Or is this a moment to trust, to wait, to let something else emerge, and to create space for someone else to step up?

Before I go further, I want to name the spirit in which I’m sharing this. One of the guiding principles in my work is leading as a public learner, shaped by my experiences with Mills Teacher Scholars, now Lead by Learning. We do not lead from having everything figured out, but from being in practice and ongoing inquiry, that's what guides these monthly newsletters.

A Moment That Changed How I See It

A few weeks ago I woke up and went to sit in my meditation room and saw that one of the windows had shattered overnight. Right behind the Buddha, looking out at the mountain where Deer Park Monastery rests, a shape we lovingly call the "sleeping elephant" in our home.

Not broken in the way you would expect. The entire pane was cracked, but still intact. Holding together. Almost like a piece of art. One side of the window was clear. The other, completely fractured, but still whole.

My husband’s first instinct was practical. We should replace it. For me, it did not feel like a problem to solve. It felt like something to listen to. A reflection of what I was living. The clarity and the fracture. The holding together.

There was something in that moment about accepting things as they are, not rushing to restore them to a version that feels more controlled or complete. And a deeper question emerged: Can I be with the fractures and still experience wholeness? Not just in a window. But in a place. In relationships. In myself.

Being capable is a gift. And over time, that gift can quietly become a pattern. You step in. Things get done. People trust you more. You carry more. And slowly, something shifts. Others step back, or never step forward, and you begin holding more than is actually yours. At first it can feel meaningful. And then it starts to feel heavy.

Recently, this landed in a deeper way for me. Watching one of my parents over many years brought this into sharper focus. In our family, one parent carried so much, often out of duty and devotion. Over time, that created a pattern where the other did less and less, not out of ill intent, but because the space to step forward was never really there. It led me to ask: Where in my life am I creating the very dynamics I struggle with?

After eight years with Transformative Educational Leadership (TEL), I now know what deep love and interdependence can feel like on a team. Because of that, I can now more clearly see where that is not yet true in other areas of my life, and I find myself longing for that same balance, trust, and ease.

Another truth I’ve realized is that overfunctioning rarely feels like overfunctioning. It feels like responsibility.

You might recognize it if:

You think, "If I don't do it, it won't happen"
You move faster than others and feel frustrated
You step in before being asked
You feel both needed and burdened
You notice a growing narrative that others are not as capable or reliable

If this resonates, nothing has gone wrong. Something is simply ready to shift.

Practices to Begin Letting Go

Pause When You Feel the Pull: That moment of urgency is where the pattern lives.
Ask What Is Actually Yours: Is this in my lane, or am I stepping in out of habit?
Let Others Step Up: Space is what allows capacity to grow.
Practice Lightness: Do what matters without carrying everything, practice putting the luggage down.

A Different Kind of Strength

There is a version of strength that looks like holding everything together. And another that looks like: Trusting others, sharing responsibility, allowing space.

I am learning that the second kind requires just as much courage, maybe even more. Where in your life are you carrying more than is yours? And what might shift if you put one small thing down?

I am practicing with you, step by step, breath by breath...with patience for the times it feels like two steps forward and four steps back. Learning how to care without carrying.

With Tenderness,

ON TV WITH A MONK...TO PROMOTE A MUSIC FESTIVAL!

Had the joy of being on local TV sharing about Rhythm of the Earth alongside Brother Phap Luu. Yes...we were talking about a music festival at a monastery. With an incredible lineup including Born I, Joe Reilly, Free Cloud Collective, Makeda Makossa, and more--it's a full day of music mindfulness and community. Get your tickets (https://bit.ly/3QA9PrD)! It's all in support of the Thich Nhat Hanh School of Interbeing! You don't have to be in Southern California to join the music festival, you can join the festival from anywhere via the livestream (https://bit.ly/4eW4vsv) with an opportunity to participate and support the school (tnhschool.org) in real time!

A STORY ABOUT MY SON, A HAIRCUT, AND TENDERNESS

I’m in Santa Cruz, California right now for a speaking engagement. It’s a gift to be in this special place I return to almost every year to offer a keynote. There’s something about being here that invites reflection and renewal. In that spirit, I’m sharing an excerpt from a recent keynote where I speak about Tenderness through a personal story about my son involving a trip to Sport Clips, anticipatory loss, and "car dancing" to BTS. It’s a story about the moments that open us and the quiet ways tenderness reshapes how we see ourselves and each other. If you follow me on LinkedIn, I’ll be sharing more clips from this keynote over the next month.