We don’t have to rush the shedding and we don’t have to know what the next season will look like before it arrives. We can simply take a breath, feel our feet on the ground, and remember that we’re still here. Still growing. Still connected. Still becoming. And that’s something worth honoring. May we remember those who came before us, honor the lives that shaped our own, and have the courage to grow beyond the stories that no longer fit. May we enter the darker half o

It feels like excavation. The kind that reveals roots you forgot were there. The old stories beneath the old stories. The places where fear and self abandonment disguised itself as responsibility.

Spring doesn’t arrive all at once - even though sometimes it may seem like it. It stirs gently beneath the surface, unseen, unheard...