Let’s Marinate… On Purpose

Let’s talk turkey. 🦃
Well... sort of.

Lately in our ops meetings, there’s been a word floating around that’s become our unofficial theme: marinate.

No, we’re not just talking about brining your Thanksgiving bird (although yes, please do that too). We’re talking about something deeper—something our fast-paced, always-on culture doesn’t always give us room to do.

We’re talking about letting ideas “marinate.”

You know that moment when someone shares something bold or vulnerable or wildly creative—and instead of giving an instant response, we say:

Let’s marinate on it.

That phrase has become our little sacred pause.
It’s permission to not rush.
To let something settle into our bones before deciding what to do next.
To let the wisdom rise instead of trying to outsmart the unknown.

And honestly? It’s magic.✨

Why “marinate” matters—especially right now.

We live in a world obsessed with answers. Fast ones. Clean ones. Preferably with bullet points and a 10-step action plan.

But the truth is, some of our best insights come not from thinking harder, but from feeling deeper. From sitting with the messiness. From letting it swirl around a bit. From allowing it to season us before we serve it up to the world.

So yes, this Thanksgiving you might be marinating actual food in your kitchen—but what if you also marinated…

• A decision you’ve been forcing?

• A dream that’s been quietly whispering?

• A truth that’s been rising up in you, asking to be seen?
  
  

This season, what if we slowed down enough to savor the moment we’re in?

✨ Marinate on your progress—big or small.
✨ Marinate on what you’re ready to release.
✨ Marinate on what’s calling you forward, even if it’s not quite clear yet.

And while you're at it, marinate on this:

You don’t need to have it all figured out to be on the right path.
You just need to be willing to pause long enough to hear your own inner wisdom.

So here’s your invitation…

This Thanksgiving, as you baste the turkey or stir the cranberry sauce, ask yourself:

• What am I trying to figure out too quickly?

• What deserves more space to unfold?

• Where might clarity come if I simply marinated in the mystery a little longer?

Let this be your season of savoring.
Of trusting the slow burn.
Of letting yourself be tenderized by time and grace and quiet knowing.

Because some of the most nourishing things in life—love, purpose, clarity—aren’t fast food. They’re slow-cooked, soul-fed, and worth every patient moment it takes to get there.