After the rush of the holiday season, one word kept returning to me: effort.
Not necessarily productivity, hustle or doing more.
Just effort.
I started noticing it everywhere - in homes, displays, gatherings, handmade gifts, traditions carried forward year after year. Someone put effort here. Paid or unpaid. Visible or invisible. Intentional or automatic.
And it made me wonder:
How much effort does something actually require before it becomes meaningful?
Is effort required at all?
We often assume effort and meaning are tightly linked. That if something mattered, it must have taken a lot of energy. That if we didn’t push ourselves, we didn’t “really” show up.
But when I look closer, that story doesn’t always hold.
Effort vs. Meaning
In knitting, this shows up clearly.
Some people finished three projects this year. Others finished twenty-five. On paper, the effort looks wildly different. But does that automatically mean the meaning is different?
Not necessarily.
A simple scarf worked slowly, intentionally, during a difficult season can carry more weight than a dozen finished objects made during a time of ease. The effort isn’t just in the quantity or complexity - it’s in how present we were while making.
Meaning doesn’t scale linearly with output.
The Invisible Effort We Don’t Talk About
When I think about holidays, some hosts pour themselves out: cooking, planning, remembering details, managing emotions, holding traditions together with sheer will. Others seem to thrive - not because they care less, but because their effort aligns better with their energy, resources, and season of life.
The difference isn’t commitment, but possibly where the effort is coming from.
Effort that comes from depletion feels heavy.
Effort that comes from alignment feels alive.
When Effort and Energy Don’t Match
This is the question I keep circling back to:
What happens when we keep applying effort that doesn’t match our energy?
Sometimes the outcome looks the same from the outside - the project gets finished, the meal gets served, the obligation gets met. But internally, the cost is different.
When effort consistently outpaces energy, resentment creeps in. Joy thins out. Even beautiful things begin to feel hollow.
That doesn’t mean effort is bad. Perhaps means effort needs context.
Is the Effort in Preparation - or Something Else?
We often assume effort lives in preparation: planning, organizing, anticipating what’s next.
But preparation alone doesn’t always make something feel good.
Sometimes the effort that matters most is quieter:
Choosing presence over perfection
Staying with something instead of rushing past it
Allowing “enough” to actually be enough
In knitting, this might look like returning to the same simple pattern again and again - not because it’s impressive, but because it steadies you. The effort isn’t in learning something new; it’s in showing up consistently.
A Different Intention for the Year Ahead
As I look toward 2026, I don’t want to put more effort into everything.
I want to put more effort into the little things - not from pressure, but from choice. Not to produce more, but to feel more alive and aligned inside the life I’m already living.
Less reacting, less chasing the “big feeling”, and way more intention in the ordinary moments that already exist.
Knitting reminds me of this again and again: meaning isn’t made by forcing effort - it’s shaped by how we relate to what’s already in our hands.
