Blog #14 How You Make People Feel

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March 14, 2026

I've been spending a lot of time on LinkedIn lately, and I'm noticing a pattern. People often introduce themselves by how long they’ve been doing their work — twenty years in leadership, a decade of coaching, fifteen years speaking.

Experience does matter. Time spent in a craft carries wisdom. But I’ve been sitting with a quieter question lately:

Is the number of years really what moves people?

I don’t believe it is.

When you encounter someone who truly loves their work, you feel it immediately. It’s in the way they speak, the care in their words, the presence they bring to the moment. That feeling doesn’t come from a résumé. It comes from authenticity.

Authenticity isn’t a strategy. It’s alignment — when what you say, what you believe, and how you show up are all pointing in the same direction.

As an author and speaker, I think about this often. There are many people with more years in this field than I have. But what any of us can offer is sincerity — a genuine desire to connect, to share something meaningful, and to leave someone a little better than we found them.

When that intention is real, something interesting happens: the right people find their way to you. Not because you marketed yourself perfectly, but because something about how you show up resonates with them.

Years can bring wisdom, but they don’t guarantee it. The difference is often the quality of attention we bring to our work.

In the end, people may forget how many years you said you had.

But they will remember how you made them feel.

Lisa Bromfield

Transformational Life Guide

Inspirational Speaker

Author

Blog #13 The Ripple Effect of Kindness

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March 10, 2026

There's a lot happening out there. You feel it — in conversations, in headlines, in the tension that seems to sit just under the surface of ordinary days. The world can feel sharp right now. Brittle. Like everyone is braced for something.

And in moments like these, kindness can feel almost too small. What difference does a kind word make? What does a gentle gesture matter against everything that's going wrong?

The answer, I've come to believe, is: everything.

Every act of kindness is a small declaration. It says: I see you. You matter. We are, in this moment, on the same side. In a world that profits from division and feeds on conflict, that declaration is quietly revolutionary.

This isn't naive. Kindness doesn't mean letting the world walk over you. It doesn't mean pretending things are fine when they aren't. It means choosing, deliberately and with open eyes, to treat the people around you with care — because that choice ripples outward in ways you'll never fully see.

Here's something remarkable: researchers have found that kindness is contagious. When someone witnesses a generous act, they are more likely to be generous themselves. One moment of kindness can travel through a community like a wave — touching people who never saw the original act, who will never know where it started.

And the giver? Kindness lights up the same reward pathways in the brain as receiving something wonderful. It lowers cortisol — the stress hormone. It boosts serotonin. It has been linked to longer life, stronger immune function, and greater resilience. Being kind is not self-sacrifice. It is, in the most literal sense, good for you.

We are wired for this. Beneath the noise, beneath the fear, we are creatures built for connection.

So when things feel heavy and the news feels relentless and you wonder if any of it matters — remember: the person next to you is also carrying something. The stranger across the street is navigating something you know nothing about. And you, in this ordinary moment, have the power to make their day a little lighter.

That is not small. That is everything.

Be part of the ripple effect of kindness. It truly matters.

Lisa Bromfield

Transformational Life Guide

Inspirational Speaker

Author

Blog #12 Not Everything Needs A Plan

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March 1, 2026

I’ve never been one to wait, never needed permission to go somewhere or do something just because no one else could come along; movement is simply how I’m wired.

When my cat Sophie died, something shifted quietly inside me. Grief didn’t hit me like a wave; it was a gentle insistence that I slow down, that I step back and simply breathe for a moment.

In six months I will turn sixty-five, and I realized that I needed to begin planning. I made a few calls, and the trip slowly began to take shape. I had been working hard since the beginning of the year with a branding specialist, and in the midst of it all, I was writing a third book. Yet Sophie’s death had pressed the brakes hard, reminding me that creativity can only expand when we take the time to refill ourselves.

Hiking alone was not enough; what I needed wasn’t a plan, a retreat, a deadline, or a pep talk. I needed a drive, a day that could simply unfold. So I drove to Damascus, walked into Damascus Diner, and ordered the big, messy meatloaf sandwich with french fries. Not a typical part of my healthy diet, but it was delicisous!

I then visited some of the hiking stores, and learned about some local hiking trails—Grayson Highlands State Park, and the Channels. I was excited to add two new place on my list to explore.

Later, at Backbone State Park, the cliffs were steeper than I had imagined, and I made the easy choice not to push myself; I wandered, took photographs, and allowed the drive home to be slow and unhurried, recognizing that the day’s purpose was simply to be, and that letting it unfold without expectation was exactly what it needed to do.

And as I drove, something inside me loosened. Grief, I realized, does not always knock us flat; sometimes it quietly dims the edges of our world, softens the light, and makes even the work we love feel as though it deserves space, a pause, a gentle reprieve. The antidote, at least for me, was not pushing through but stepping sideways—into somewhere unfamiliar, into a day without expectations, into a simple rhythm of presence.

I came home ready to return to my book, not with pressure or urgency, but with a quiet, insistent hum of purpose and curiosity. Sometimes, I realize, is that this it all it takes. No grand gestures, no reinvention—just a new road, a good sandwich, and the willingness to let a day surprise you.

Lisa Bromfield

Transformational Life Guide

Inspirational Speaker

Author