Blog

I recently traveled to Florida, and part of the trip included hosting a breathwork session for a local community. We planned it as an outdoor event, because, well, it's Florida. All day, the weather apps showed nothing but clear skies. We checked and re-checked. Clear skies. Clear skies. We set up outside. People arrived, laid out their mats, and got comfortable. Five minutes after we started, it poured.

I'm always a little surprised when people don't make a big deal about their birthdays. You know, the kind of people who shrug it off with, "Oh, just another day." Meanwhile, I'm over here shouting, "It's my birthday! It's my birthday MONTH."

It's so interesting how we never know where our life threads are going. We can't see how they'll weave together five years from now, ten, or even twenty years down the road. And then one day, something appears and suddenly everything clicks into place like that last jigsaw puzzle piece that fell behind the couch.

December brought me more free time than I'm used to. But instead of filling every moment with activity (my usual pattern!), I found myself drawn to a home project I'd been avoiding for over three years: the loft.

Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is... stop. Yes, it sounds counterintuitive. But creating space for the new often means lovingly releasing what we've been holding onto, even when it's something we deeply cherish.

Sometimes it's best to just dive in, so here goes… I recently lost my best friend of 50 years, and it's brought everything into perspective in ways I never expected.Karima is gone. Even writing those words feels surreal. She had cancer, and I knew for quite a while that she was going to die. Yet when it happened, it was still a shock.Isn't that strange about grief? Even when we see it coming, even when we think we're prepared, the finality of loss still takes our breath away.