Reassessing the Value in Our Work — and Where Joy is Found

In my 20 years of working for Indian Country, I used to proudly wear the badge of being a master of many trades. The multiple hats, the different roles, the constant pivoting that comes with serving numerous nonprofits—I wore all of it like a point of pride.

What I didn’t know then was the other half of that saying: a master of all trades is a master of none.

I’m genuinely thankful for the stillness the pandemic forced on many of us. That pause gave me something I hadn’t made space for: the clarity to ask what I actually needed to master.

What I found was a specific kind of contribution—one with real, measurable impact. I found it in medical staffing for the Indian Health Service. The data tells part of the story; the numbers show the positive difference we’re making for our patients, who I call Our Relatives. That has provided immense achievement.

But I’ve been sitting with a harder question lately. Tony Robbins says there are two different skills in life: the science of achievement (which I am still working hard at and finding real success in) and the art of fulfillment (which is as unique as every human being you’ll ever meet).

Through all the amazing feelings that come with what we’ve built—the numbers, the data—there can still be a quiet undercurrent of incompleteness, even when what we’re doing at Ellsworth is incredible. I’ve (almost) mastered the science of achievement. Now, I want to share how I am doing with the art of fulfillment. My hope is that if I master the art, the science will sharpen up, creating a growing cycle of both.

I’m writing this out—honestly, out loud—to help name what that fulfillment looks like. At the end of this piece, I’ll share what I believe it is and the strategy I’m building to make sure I feel it daily.

But first, the question underneath all of it: Is there joy available in this work I’m currently doing?

I’ve been sitting with that. What follows is my honest answer regarding what, right now, is genuinely creating joy for me in this work.

---

Contributions That Feel Real

Contribution for contribution’s sake isn’t the same as a contribution you are emotionally connected to. You can donate to a cause and feel nothing. You can run a company that helps thousands and still feel empty. The question isn’t whether you’re doing good—it’s whether you’re actually present for it.

What creates joy for me are the moments I can see the thread between the work and the person on the other end of it.

In 2025 alone, we were awarded 11 new Purchase Orders for 15 candidates. With those new and existing POs, we placed 35 different candidates across 64 assignments – in three locations. We have won total of 73 government contract obligations and have a lifetime contract value of $9.9 million.

Those aren’t just numbers to me. They are real people—genuinely skilled and talented—making a real impact for Our Relatives.

It’s knowing that our placed candidates are thoughtful, mindful, and passionate about working for Indian Country. It’s knowing they are ensuring our elders receive the care they deserve, bringing a culturally competent, deeply respectful presence to our patients and their families. It’s knowing that even the smaller hospitals on the reservation are providing a heartbeat—literally—for their entire communities, and that we are a small but meaningful part of keeping that heartbeat strong.

I don’t always let myself slow down enough to feel that fully. But when I do, it is genuinely alive in a way that nothing else in the work quite matches.

---

Words Do Matter

The language we use shapes the emotions we carry. What if you stopped framing your work as duty, dread, boring, or bureaucratic, and started seeing what we do as opportunity, innovative, fun, interactive, and helping?

I don’t mean this as a motivational trick, but as a genuine reorientation of how you show up inside what you’ve built.

I’ve been trying this on. When I approach our work at Ellsworth as an obligation—something I carry rather than something I chose—it feels heavy, disconnected, and even a little scary. But when I remember that I chose this, that I am in the extraordinary position of being able to shape something meaningful with my days, it feels different. Not easier, necessarily. But more mine. More alive.

That subtle shift—from “have to” to “get to”—is something I’m actively practicing. And on the days it takes hold, the work genuinely feels like a gift.

---

The Pull Beneath the Push

There’s a version of me that got here through push—through discipline, sheer will, creativity, and a limited budget.  I respect that version of myself. He’s still curious, still mindful, still innovating, and still willing to be coached. He built something real.

But willpower only goes so far. The greater energy comes from pull—from something beyond yourself that doesn’t require force to pursue. Something that calls you forward instead of pushing you from behind.

For me, that pull lives in the mission behind Ellsworth. There’s a real story here about communities that have been underserved, about untapped talent waiting for a door to open, and about the innovation happening across Indian Country that needs to be shepherded back to our communities in thoughtful and respectful ways.

That work doesn’t feel like an obligation. It feels like something I was supposed to find my way to. Lately, I’ve been letting myself feel that more fully, rather than just executing against it.

---

Why I’m Writing This

I don’t write this as someone who has arrived at some enlightened place. Believe me, I’m not there yet. I write it as someone who felt something stir and thought: maybe honesty about this is more useful than another post about strategy.

The art of fulfillment is as unique as every human being you’ll ever meet. No one can hand it to you. But you can ask the question. And asking it, sitting with it, refusing to push past it in the name of productivity—that, I think, is where it begins.

So here is my current answer. And maybe a question back to you, too: What part of what we do in our current work, specifically, is creating joy for you right now?

For me, it’s the moments I stop managing it and start meaning it. Take an honest audit of the work in front of you — the purpose is closer than you think. What I thought I was building for others has been quietly building me all along.

I still have a long way to go. But I know where I’m headed.