(With a generous dash of science as a starter — and self-observation for dessert)
Are you off to a flying start in 2026?
Here in the Netherlands, the year opened in a very different rhythm. We were tucked in under a thick, heavy blanket of snow that lingered far longer than expected — the biggest dump I can remember since 2005, after more than fifteen years abroad. Airports and public transport were disrupted. Roads slowed. Schedules softened. And for a few days we were, quite literally, snowed in and forced to physically slow down. And it was great!
The crunch of snow under my boots when walking in the forest. The contagious excitement of children and dogs (the sheep were less enthusiastic and still needed feeding). And most of all: the silence. That rare, almost sacred quiet snow brings, as if the world itself is holding its breath.
For me, it felt like an invitation to reflect on a festive season that had flown by too quickly. Days filled with loved ones, laughter, song — and beautiful, rich, exquisite food. Food in most cultures equating to connection. Ours is no different. And yet, as I sat with that stillness, a different question popped up.
When we founded HeartWork, we explored leadership as something deeply human — not just strategic or cognitive, but embodied. We spoke about values, purpose, inner alignment, courage, shadow, resilience. Over time, it struck me that one dimension of personal leadership seems to receive surprisingly little attention in leadership development spaces: nourishment.
Not nourishment as a metaphor for mental or spiritual intake.
Quite literally: what we eat and drink.
A steadily growing body of scientific research is beginning to suggest that the mainstream diet we are so casually “served”… may not actually serve us very well at all.
Over the holidays, I found myself listening with great interest to an American psychiatrist (Harvard-trained) who specialises in the relationship between food and neurological and mental health conditions. What caught my attention was not only the science, but the compelling clinical results she described.
Many of her patients — some juggling three, four, even five different medications — experienced profound improvements after making relatively simple dietary changes. By drastically reducing insulin and glucose spikes — through ketogenic or low-carbohydrate approaches — symptoms diminished. In some cases, they disappeared altogether. Over time, some patients were even able to taper off medication under medical supervision.
I was mildly surprised to learn that conditions such as type-2 diabetes, Parkinson’s, dementia, depression and other ailments may also be catalysed — or at least exacerbated — by our diet.
She was careful to emphasise that this is deeply personal. Genetic make-up, age, lifestyle, type of work, gender, activity level — all of it matters. There is no one-size-fits-all solution. And yet, across this diversity, some general conclusions emerged about the benefits of significantly reducing carbohydrate and sugar intake.
Her working hypothesis is both simple and unsettling: that much of what we consider “normal” food may contribute to chronic inflammation — including inflammation of the brain — leading to chemical imbalances that affect how we think, feel and regulate ourselves.
Now, most of us are not dealing with severe neurological disorders. But on a much more everyday level, there is compelling evidence of strong correlations between what we consume and our levels of patience, irritability, focus, concentration and energy throughout the day.
Think about it. How often do we experience:
- Mid-afternoon crashes, when energy dips just as complex decisions, difficult conversations or strategic thinking are required — and we default to quick fixes rather than wise choices.
- Short fuses and low tolerance, where small irritations feel disproportionately big, and leadership subtly shifts from curiosity to control, from listening to reacting.
- Foggy thinking, where nuance disappears, trade-offs feel overwhelming, and decisions become either/or instead of both/and — not because the situation is complex, but because our cognitive bandwidth is depleted.
- Restless energy followed by exhaustion, creating a leadership rhythm of overdrive and collapse rather than steady presence and sustainable performance.
- Reduced capacity for reflection, where we move quickly to action or opinion simply because slowing down to sense, integrate and choose feels unavailable.
- Lower quality decision-making, not due to lack of intelligence or experience, but because blood-sugar spikes and drops quietly hijack attention, patience and emotional regulation.
- A narrowed leadership horizon, where short-term relief or certainty is unconsciously prioritised over long-term value, alignment and impact.
And how often do we trace any of this back to what — and how — we’ve eaten (or not eaten) that day?
Interestingly, just as sustainability is often reduced to carbon-dioxide emissions rather than embraced as the full, interconnected system reflected in the 17 SDGs, our relationship with food tends to narrow quickly to weight loss. Calories in. Calories out. Numbers on a scale.
But weight is only one signal.
What about mental clarity? Emotional regulation? Presence? Capacity to listen? To lead? To respond rather than react?
In other words: does this menu truly sustain me — not just physically, but mentally, emotionally and relationally?
That question stayed with me.
So, purely out of curiosity — not discipline, not self-improvement, and definitely not a New Year’s resolution — I decided to run a small experiment. On January 1st, I shifted my eating pattern quite fundamentally, drastically reducing sugars and carbohydrates to experience what would happen.
Within four days, I began to notice changes. Steadier energy across the day. Fewer peaks and crashes. Clearer focus. Less reactivity. A quieter nervous system. And yes, some weight loss too — but that felt more like a side effect than the point.
What interested me most was how I showed up. In conversations, at work and at home. There was a subtle sense of balance. Of groundedness. A little more space between stimulus and response. A little more access to patience and presence.
Now, let me be clear: I am not prescribing diets or declaring a single “right” way to eat. As mentioned, bodies and contexts differ. This is simply an invitation to curiosity: to check in with self and discover how (subtle) changes in your diet might benefit you in your leadership, in how you show up.
What if, for a short while, you treated your eating patterns as an experiment — not to fix yourself, but to listen? What if you gently observed how changing what’s on your plate influences how you think, feel and relate? How you show up in meetings, in moments of pressure or fatigue or when big decisions need to be made.
As we step further into 2026, I wish you good health, playful curiosity, and the freedom to experiment. Not as a resolution, but as an exploration. May your plate nourish not only your body, but also the way you live, lead and relate.
Here’s to a healthy, curious and well-nourished 2026!!
Please let us know what you think, we would love to hear from you via sendlove at heartwork dot earth.