Perhaps the invitation here isn't to transform, but to become curious about the transformation already underway.

Approaching the age my father was when he died, I was overcome with a sudden reverence for my life and a desire to honour it in a more intentional way. It was time to recalibrate and decide what I wanted the next chapter to look like.

Life is beautiful. And life is hard. And life can plateau on the in-between. How do we hold these truths together when it’s so tempting to cling to either polarity?

We are never the same person in a new season, and therefore old routines might not quite fit. The routine that September yearns for doesn’t necessarily have to be the one you had before your journey into the sun.

My little office offered an imposed contrast of somatic connection and BEing that mitigated all of the cerebral DOing. This balance, I believe, is what staved off burnout and enriched my learning process.

We’ve just had 366 days of feeling and being and receiving and achieving and struggling and loving and not loving. How much of it can you recall, not in your mind but in your body?

I felt joy for this new pace and sadness for the years that mindlessly sped by. I vowed then to remain present, yet still, somehow, I’ve missed the blooming dogwoods now.

There’s been tremendous loss and the grief for these passings has moved through bodies in myriad ways. But I believe that we’re settling into the hardy nucleus of change.