When the world collapses

Before we dive into this week’s newsletter, a quick heads-up: if you want a simple, daily structure to build real resilience momentum for 2026, my 21-Day Resilience Kickstart starts Jan 1. It’s a FREE program that’ll build momentum for 2026 that actually sticks.

Keanu Reeves has a rare kind of fame. We don’t have to think he’s the world’s greatest actor to know he’s a decent human. He’s been regularly called “the nicest guy in Hollywood”.

We can feel it in his interviews, the viral clips of him giving up subway seats, the stories of showing up to wedding ceremonies when asked, or playing catch with a young fan.

What’s less known about Keanu is why he carries himself the way he does.

He struggled at school, dealt with dyslexia, and built his career role by role (with plenty of flops along the way). It was roles in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure, Point Break, and Speed that helped him become a star, but that elevated to global superstardom when The Matrix hit in 1999.

Sadly, as the film was sweeping the world in 1999, Keanu’s real life was fracturing.

In December of that year, he and his partner Jennifer Syme had a daughter, Ava, who was stillborn at eight months. The loss devastated them, and the relationship came under huge strain.

Fifteen months later, in April 2001, Jennifer died in a car crash. She was just 28 years old. Keanu acted as a pallbearer and Jennifer was buried next to their daughter.

All of this was happening right as The Matrix was exploding and the sequels were gearing up. On paper, it was the peak-career moment for Keanu. But in real life, it was far from peak happiness.

He refused to let interviews turn his grief into entertainment. He kept it private. And he took the time he needed before stepping back into the machine.

And yet, when he did go back to work, his response was generosity over bitterness.

He quietly redirected some of his earnings to support the people around him. On The Matrix Reloaded, he bought Harley-Davidsons for the 12-person stunt team as a thank you for throwing their bodies around so he could look spectacular on screen.

He’s taken pay cuts on other films so studios could afford actors he respected. He’s given a struggling crew member $20,000 to help with family trouble. He’s quietly funded cancer research and children’s hospitals, including a private foundation inspired by his sister’s battle with leukemia. The list goes on and on.

What’s consistent is that none of this is loud. It’s just a man who has been through more than we realize, choosing to let pain turn him towards kindness.

And that’s resilience too. It’s the moment we notice that life has dealt us an unfair hand, but we still choose a kind, decent, generous, and honourable path.

A quiet strength.

Neuroscience is blunt when it comes to grief and chronic stress: they shrink our capacity. We become more reactive, less patient, more self-protective. But simple choices like setting clear boundaries, naming the moment, and turning outward through generosity and gratitude can interrupt that spiral. Not to erase the pain, but to stop it from driving the bus.

Here are four ideas we can take from Keanu’s story and turn it into something useful on a random Tuesday at work.

1. Protect space for private storms. Keanu decided early to draw a line around what was his, and chose not to perform his pain for the cameras. At work, we don’t owe people our whole story. But if we can decide a level of information and make it clear, we do them and ourselves a great service. Something like: “I’m dealing with something personal. I’m ok to work, but I’m running at 70% this week.” It’s clear and kind….and clear is kind. People around will appreciate the transparency, which helps manage our own space and also offers a chance for stronger relationships.

2. A clear identity. Keanu was a star on screen while his real life was fracturing. It’s important to remember that our role is what we do, not who we are. When work gets intense, it’s easy to fuse identity with our performance. But resilience is keeping ourselves intact while we do the job, even in the most stressful moments. We can care deeply without collapsing into it, and feelings can be present, we just don’t want them to be in charge. The next time we’re in a stressful meeting and the overwhelm threatens to grab us, it’s our chance to silently label it for what it is: “This is a moment, not my identity.”

3. Turn pain into generosity. One of the quickest ways out of a mental spiral is to be useful to someone else. This isn’t to bypass our feelings, but rather to stop the hurt folding inward. Keanu’s pattern is clear: he uses success to support people quietly. Our version can be smaller with perhaps a genuine check-in, helping a teammate prep for a meeting, or covering one task without being asked. It gives the hurt somewhere useful to go.

4. Over-index on gratitude. This is similar to the concept of radical gratitude, but it’s extremely difficult to be grateful in moments of devastation, especially when it comes to loss. The idea here is to try and channel that gratitude towards others and to make our appreciation disproportionate to what’s expected. An unexpected (and perhaps even unnecessary) two-line message naming what someone did and why it mattered can change the tone of an entire team. So let’s send one specific gratitude note today.

Life breaks us sometimes. It’s full of difficulties and pain that can strike at any moment. But real resilience is choosing what we become afterward and letting that strength show up in quiet, practical ways.

Because that’s the kind of toughness that households and workplaces need when times get tough.

Carre @ Resilient Minds

PS - In the spirit of upholding the generosity message from Keanu, I’ve made the 21-Day Resilience Kickstart completely free. This program will help turn these resilience ideas into daily reps instead of nice thoughts we forget by Wednesday. It starts Jan 1, 2026 and you’ll receive structured daily pushes to build these ideas into your nervous system. Could be great to do with family members and friends.