The Power of Surrender: Letting Go to Evolve

Week of October 5, 2026

Sometimes growth requires us to let go of something that once brought us purpose, fulfillment, and joy. Not because it was wrong or because we failed, but because we've grown beyond what that experience was meant to teach us.

I've been reflecting on this deeply over the last couple of days as I've experienced a beautiful lesson in surrender, letting go, and allowing myself to evolve.

For eight months, I taught weekly guided meditation classes every Wednesday. In mid-August, I made the decision to step away. I had been noticing subtle signs that perhaps I had grown as much as I could from that particular experience. Some evenings, fewer students would attend, and occasionally no one would come at all.

I was also transitioning into a new position working as a care manager for children with complex medical needs. I'm still in the early stages of learning this role, and it's been a very busy season of my life.

Taking a break from teaching felt appropriate at the time, but I don't think I had fully recognized what that chapter coming to an end meant for me.

Sometimes we physically step away from something long before we're emotionally ready to release the identity we've created around it.

Recently, I decided to hold another guided meditation class at a new location.

And nobody came.

Of course, I felt sad and disappointed. I had put my energy into creating this experience, and things didn't unfold the way I had hoped.

But as I sat with those feelings, I began to recognize something deeper.

I hadn't really had the time or energy to promote this event. And if I'm being completely transparent with myself, I was also falling back into an old pattern. I was trying to recreate something familiar rather than fully acknowledging how much my work, my abilities, and my purpose had evolved.

And I think it's important to recognize something here.

My work didn't evolve because nobody showed up that evening. I was already evolving, and that experience helped me recognize something I had been resisting.

Deep down, I had been feeling this shift for some time. I knew my work was growing beyond simply facilitating meditation classes, but there was still a part of me holding on to what was familiar.

Sometimes we already know when something is no longer in alignment, but we continue trying to make it work because we're attached to how things used to be.

That evening brought something into my awareness that I had been intuitively feeling but hadn't fully allowed myself to acknowledge.

I wasn't being asked to give up my purpose. I was being invited to let go of an old expression of it.

Interestingly enough, before leaving for the class that evening, I had been meditating, and a song began playing within me, almost like a mantra.

"I release. I release control."

I kept hearing those words.

Looking back, I believe my higher self, my intuition, and Spirit were gently preparing me to release my expectations and surrender to what was unfolding.

To let go of trying to control the outcome and make room for something new.

Grieving an Old Identity

As I processed the sadness from that evening, I realized I wasn't simply grieving a class that nobody attended.

On some level, I was grieving an identity.

For so long, I had identified myself primarily as a guided meditation facilitator. And meditation is such a beautiful modality. It's a practice I deeply value and continue to use in my own life and in my work with others.

But meditation is only one of the tools I use.

My work has grown into something much deeper, incorporating inner child work, shadow work, subconscious limiting beliefs, generational patterns, self-acceptance, and integration.

Through years of personal inner work, learning from teachers, attending workshops, working with plant medicine, and having profound spiritual experiences, I've continued to grow and expand in my understanding and abilities.

And perhaps I hadn't fully given myself permission to acknowledge that growth.

I was holding on to who I had been instead of allowing myself to become who I was growing into.

There's a kind of grief that comes with that realization.

Even when we know we're ready for something new, there's still a part of us that has to say goodbye to what was.

And I think it's important to allow ourselves to experience that sadness rather than immediately trying to move past it.

When Surrender Opens the Door to Creativity

That evening, after allowing myself to process the disappointment, something unexpected happened.

I became deeply inspired.

Ideas began flowing through me, almost effortlessly. Within a short period of time, I began developing several workshops: an inner child workshop, a block removal workshop, a manifestation workshop, and a past life exploration workshop.

These are still in their early stages, but the creativity and inspiration that came through were so beautiful.

It felt like divine downloads, one after another.

And I began to recognize something.

The moment I surrendered the need to hold on to an old identity, I created space to receive something new.

I wasn't forcing myself to come up with the next business idea. I wasn't sitting there trying to figure out how to fix what hadn't worked.

I was simply allowing.

And in that state of surrender, I became an open vessel for creativity, inspiration, and new possibilities.

It was a beautiful experience of flow.

Learning to Meet People Where They Are

Another realization that came through was around my audience and the people I'm here to serve.

Let's face it, meditation isn't necessarily the sexiest market.

Even the types of guided meditations I facilitate aren't particularly mainstream. They're often deeply introspective experiences that invite people to explore their inner worlds.

And in today's world, with so many distractions competing for our attention, not everyone is immediately drawn to the word meditation.

But that doesn't mean they wouldn't benefit from the experience.

As a facilitator, a guide, and a student of presence, part of my own evolution is learning how to reach the people who may benefit from my work.

How can I create experiences that invite people to participate, explore, learn, and discover something about themselves?

I don't simply want to provide an experience where someone feels peaceful for an hour and then returns to their life. I want to help people develop awareness, recognize their own patterns, and discover tools they can carry into their everyday lives.

I want my work to become a collaborative experience where people are active participants in their own journey.

And that's what I've been discovering through creating these workshops.

Meditation will still be part of my work. It's a beautiful tool that can help us access deeper states of awareness and connection.

But it doesn't have to be the entire experience.

Recognizing that has opened up so many possibilities for how I can serve others.

And it's also teaching me something important about business, leadership, and being willing to pivot.

We have to be willing to recognize what is working, what isn't working, and when it's time to evolve.

Power Versus Force

One of the teachings that came to mind during this experience was from Dr. David R. Hawkins' book Power vs. Force.

The distinction between power and force has been something I've been reflecting on.

And it brought me to a question.

What is power?

For me, in this experience, power was found in surrender.

It wasn't in pushing harder, trying to control an outcome, or continuing to hold on to something simply because it was familiar.

Power was in my willingness to acknowledge what I had been intuitively feeling for some time.

To witness it, face it, and allow myself to feel the sadness of releasing it.

And then to become open to receiving what was next.

When we become too rigid in our expectations, identities, and beliefs about how something is supposed to unfold, we can unintentionally limit our own possibilities.

We become so focused on holding on that we don't realize how much energy we're using to resist change.

But what happens when we soften?

What happens when we stop forcing?

What becomes possible when we surrender?

For me, surrender created freedom.

It opened a channel for inspiration, creativity, and a deeper understanding of how I want to share my work with the world.

The Beauty of Death and Rebirth

There's something beautiful about the cycles of death and rebirth that we experience throughout our lives.

Not always in the literal sense, but through the identities, experiences, relationships, and chapters we outgrow.

Sometimes something has to come to an end so that something new can begin.

And sometimes we have to grieve that ending, even when we know it's time.

What's been so meaningful about this experience is recognizing how quickly something new began to blossom once I stopped resisting what I already knew.

What initially felt like disappointment became an opportunity for awareness.

And what felt like the end of one chapter became the beginning of something that feels much more aligned with who I'm becoming.

I didn't lose my purpose. I simply allowed the way I express that purpose to evolve.

And I'm genuinely excited to see where this new creative flow takes me.

A Reflection for You

I want to leave you with something to think about.

Is there something in your life that you've outgrown?

Perhaps an identity you've held on to, an experience you've learned everything you needed to learn from, or a path you've continued following simply because it's familiar.

Is there something you've been intuitively feeling called to release, but you've been holding on because you don't know what comes next?

Sometimes surrender begins with something as simple as acknowledging what is already there.

Witnessing it.

Allowing yourself to feel whatever comes with that realization.

And giving yourself permission to let go.

What if releasing what you've outgrown isn't a loss, but an opportunity to experience something new?

For me, I didn't know what would come next. And I think that was part of what made letting go so difficult.

But once I stopped trying to control how things were supposed to unfold, I found myself open to possibilities I hadn't fully considered before.

I'm grateful for this experience, even the sadness that came with it, because it allowed me to recognize how much I've grown and how much more I have to offer.

And I think that's something worth reflecting on. Where in our lives are we still trying to force something that perhaps we've already outgrown?

What might become possible if we allowed ourselves to surrender?

Until next time...

How Are You Speaking to Yourself?

Week of September 28, 2025

Lately, I’ve been paying more attention to the way I speak to myself.

Not only during meditation or inner child work, but throughout my everyday life.

When I get frustrated.

When I make a mistake.

When my mind starts going in ten different directions.

When I notice negative self-talk creeping in.

I’ve started asking myself:

How am I speaking to myself right now?

Because sometimes the way we speak to ourselves is much harsher than we realize.

We can punish ourselves.

Criticize ourselves.

Rush ourselves.

Tell ourselves we should know better.

Tell ourselves we aren’t doing enough.

And sometimes, when we begin looking underneath that voice, we realize it didn’t begin with us.

Maybe we were spoken to harshly as children.

Maybe we were punished for making mistakes.

Maybe we were ridiculed when we didn’t understand something quickly enough.

Maybe we learned that love disappeared when we disappointed someone.

Maybe we learned that we had to be perfect, quiet, useful, successful, easy, or pleasing in order to feel safe.

And over time, we can begin speaking to ourselves in the same way.

Inner child work has helped me become aware of that voice.

For me, being yelled at, ridiculed, or severely punished as a child for doing something wrong, not understanding something, or not getting something right was deeply painful.

And I can see now how that voice became internalized.

My inner critic can become this monster.

When I feel like I’m falling short, I can become harsh with myself.

When I notice that happening, I try to become curious instead.

Where is this coming from?

Why am I punishing myself right now?

Who taught me that this is how I need to speak to myself?

And sometimes, simply becoming aware of it changes everything.

Because once I notice it, I have a choice.

I can continue repeating the old voice.

Or I can begin creating a new one.

Learning to Speak Softly

A lot of this changed for me through my experience with Ayahuasca.

One of the things that stayed with me deeply was the way she spoke to me.

“My sweet girl.”

There was such a softness in it.

There was no shame.

No disappointment.

No pressure.

Just love.

And I realized how deeply I needed to hear that.

So I began practicing speaking to myself that way.

Gently.

Softly.

Patiently.

Sometimes it is as simple as:

It’s okay.

Come back home. (to yourself...be with yourself)

You’re okay, sweet girl.

You don’t have to figure everything out right now.

Even during meditation, when my mind starts wandering everywhere, I try not to punish myself for it.

I don’t tell myself I’m bad at meditating.

I don’t force myself back into stillness.

I simply notice...sometimes i'm guided by spirit or a master

And then gently:

Come back home.

Come back to the breath.

Come back to the body.

Come back to the heart.

Come back to yourself.

I also connect with my teachers during meditation, and I imagine that same loving presence guiding me back without judgment.

I’m realizing that this practice doesn’t have to end when the meditation does.

Inner Child Work Happens Throughout the Day

Inner child work can happen while you are driving.

While you are getting ready in the morning.

While you are parenting.

While you are overwhelmed.

While you are standing in the kitchen frustrated with yourself.

While you are replaying something you wish you had done differently.

It happens in those tiny moments when you notice how you are treating yourself.

And instead of abandoning yourself, you stay.

Instead of attacking yourself, you soften.

Instead of saying:

What is wrong with me?

Maybe you say:

What do I need right now?

Instead of:

I can’t believe I did that.

Maybe:

It’s okay. I’m learning.

Instead of:

Why can’t I get this right?

Maybe:

Let’s slow down and try again.

There is something powerful about becoming the safe voice that you may have needed when you were younger.

Not pretending that difficult things don’t matter.

Not avoiding accountability.

But learning that we do not have to abuse ourselves in order to grow.

We can grow with compassion.

We can witness ourselves with kindness.

We can learn without shame.

What Happens When We Fall Short?

I think this becomes especially important when we are working toward something.

Maybe it’s a personal goal.

A career goal.

A fitness goal.

Trying to eat differently.

Trying to create a new habit.

Trying to become more disciplined.

Trying to make better choices.

We often begin with good intentions.

And then something happens.

We miss a workout.

We fall back into an old habit.

We don’t get everything done.

We lose motivation.

We make a choice we aren’t proud of.

We don’t meet the expectation we created for ourselves.

And for some of us, that is when the inner critic gets loud.

You messed up again.

You never follow through.

What is wrong with you?

You should be farther along by now.

Falling off the path doesn't have to become another reason to punish ourselves...

What if we could simply notice that we drifted?

And gently call ourselves back.

It's okay

We got off track. Let’s come back.

That doesn’t mean we stop holding ourselves accountable.

It doesn’t mean we abandon the goal.

It means we stop believing that cruelty is what will make us successful.

For me, this has been an important realization.

If mistakes were met with yelling, ridicule, punishment, or shame when we were young, then sometimes we unknowingly recreate that same environment inside ourselves as adults.

We become the person standing over ourselves saying:

You should have done better.

But maybe discipline can look different.

Maybe discipline can also sound like:

I know this matters to you. Let’s try again tomorrow.

You had a hard day. That doesn’t mean you’ve failed.

We can make a different choice next time.

Come back. Keep going.

There can still be structure.

There can still be commitment.

There can still be responsibility.

But there can also be grace.

I don’t believe we have to hate ourselves into becoming better versions of ourselves.

Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is learn how to guide ourselves forward in the way we wish someone had guided us when we were small.

Softly.

Clearly.

Patiently.

And with love.

Begin to Notice

Over the next few days, I invite you to simply notice.

How are you speaking to yourself?

What happens when you make a mistake?

What happens when you feel overwhelmed?

What happens when you don’t accomplish everything you planned?

What happens when you miss the workout?

Break the routine?

Fall back into an old pattern?

What happens when you feel like you aren’t where you thought you would be?

Do you encourage yourself forward?

Or do you punish yourself?

Whose voice do you hear?

And does that voice sound like love?

If it doesn’t, you don’t have to change everything overnight.

Start small.

Choose one moment.

One sentence.

One breath.

And speak to yourself differently.

Maybe it is simply:

It’s okay.

I’m here.

We can try again.

You’re still worthy of love.

Come back home.

Reconnecting with our inner child can begin with something incredibly simple:

learning how to speak to ourselves with the tenderness we always deserved.

Unitl Next time...

The Girl Who Chose Herself

Week of September 21,2026

Hey guys,

This week I thought I might share something a little different with you.

I wanted to share a short fantasy story I’ve been working on. It was inspired in part by my own spiritual journey, but it is very much a fictional and fantasized story.

I also think storytelling can be a beautiful practice. It gives us a way to be creative while reflecting on situations, meaning, growth, and even parts of ourselves that may be easier to understand through a story.

So this is the story of a girl named Joann.

Joann was born into poverty and a very difficult home.

Her parents could be cruel, unpredictable, and harsh. She had a younger sister, and from a very early age Joann learned to become her protector.

Her sister had experienced so much trauma that she struggled to speak and eventually needed speech therapy. Joann would often speak for her.

Protecting her sister became part of who Joann was.

When she couldn’t protect her, Joann felt like she had failed.

She even tried to protect her mother, although her mother was not always kind to her.

Joann grew up very poor. Her clothes didn’t always fit correctly. She didn’t have the nicest things. She was shy, scared, and very aware that she was different.

At home, being too loud or upsetting her parents could have serious consequences.

She was yelled at, demeaned, punished, and sometimes physically hurt. There were times when her mother threw away all of her toys and belongings.

Nothing ever felt permanent.

Nothing ever really felt safe.

School wasn’t much easier.

Joann struggled to make friends. She sometimes felt like teachers treated her differently than the other children, and most of the friendships she did develop were with children who were struggling too.

The poor kids.

The rejected kids.

The children from broken homes.

Joann tried very hard to be liked.

She was sweet. She was kind. She wanted people to accept her.

But Joann was also beautiful and naturally talented.

Whenever she played a sport or tried something new, she often excelled.

And over time, she began learning that being seen didn’t always feel safe either.

So Joann started dimming her own light.

She became good enough to belong, but not so good that she would stand out too much.

She began battling an inner belief that she was never quite good enough.

Her life sometimes felt like one long Tower moment.

And yet, something inside Joann had always remained connected to Spirit.

As a child, she constantly prayed to God.

She prayed for her family, including the people who hurt her. She prayed for their protection. She prayed for forgiveness.

Her heart had been wounded, but it had never completely closed.

And because Joann didn’t feel safe telling other people what was happening in her home, her relationship with God and the unseen world became deeply important.

She had been told that if anyone knew what was happening, her family would be separated and her life would become even worse.

So Joann learned conditional love very early.

She learned people pleasing.

She learned how to stay quiet.

She learned how to disappear.

A few years after graduating from high school, Joann experienced her first major spiritual awakening.

For a brief moment, she understood how interconnected everything was.

She could feel God everywhere.

Around her.

Within her.

Within everything.

She experienced pure bliss.

But Joann’s spiritual path was not a straight line.

She fell away from it.

Life continued.

She struggled.

And then one day she attended a spiritual gathering and met a man named Mathew.

Something about his energy awakened something inside of her.

His energy felt almost opposite to hers.

His divine masculine energy met her divine feminine energy in a way that sparked another awakening.

Joann began having experiences she couldn’t fully explain.

Dreams.

Visions.

Moments of knowing.

And experiences within another realm.

For the sake of this story, we’ll call that place the Underworld.

The Underworld was only one of many unseen worlds that existed alongside the physical world.

Eventually Joann realized that she had been visiting this place since childhood.

During moments of terror, abuse, and fear, some part of her had escaped there for solitude.

She simply hadn’t remembered.

Within the Underworld, Joann encountered strange and mystical beings.

Dragons.

Protectors.

Deities.

Even demons.

Not every being she met was kind.

But over time Joann developed relationships, understanding, and even a place for herself within this strange world.

Mathew had gifts of his own.

He was extremely talented at remote viewing, astral projection, and dream walking.

Eventually Mathew realized that Joann was his spiritual counterpart.

His twin flame.

His divine mate.

Two seeds of the soul, gifted by the Heavenly Father and the Heavenly Mother.

But Mathew wanted to understand who Joann really was.

So he began remote viewing her.

What he saw disappointed him.

Joann was poor.

She was struggling with substances.

She lived in a toxic environment.

She was struggling as a mother.

Mathew had compassion for her, but he could not understand how someone living the life Joann was living could possibly be his spiritual counterpart.

What Mathew didn’t realize was that Joann had the gift of spirit sight.

She couldn’t always see him.

But sometimes she could.

Once, she even saw Mathew walking through her space with his mother.

Still, Mathew decided that the union could not make sense.

He chose to block it.

He chose to ignore Joann.

But before completely walking away, Mathew would sometimes enter Joann’s dreams.

He would dream walk with her.

Because Mathew was much stronger in these practices, he could control the surroundings and guide Joann into different magical realms and planes of existence.

Joann’s spiritual constitution was not nearly as strong.

She struggled to remember.

She would wake up knowing something had happened, but without being able to fully understand what.

Spirit continued showing her signs.

The angels continued showing her pieces.

And slowly, Joann began remembering fragments.

One night, during a particularly emotional dream, Mathew became frustrated with her.

“You won’t remember me anyway,” he told her. “You never remember.”

So Joann decided to write his name on her arm inside the dream.

And somehow, she was able to read it.

As Joann continued working on herself, pushing through her struggles and moving closer to the Divine, Mathew continued walking his own path.

But Mathew still believed Joann was not appropriate for him.

Eventually, he chose someone else.

Her name was Scarlett.

Mathew and Scarlett had known each other for years.

They had been friends for a long time, so there was already history between them.

There was familiarity.

There was trust.

There was comfort.

Scarlett was beautiful, successful, established, confident, and driven.

She could meet Mathew materially in ways Joann could not.

She also carried more masculine energy than Joann did.

Scarlett pursued Mathew, and eventually he surrendered to the relationship.

For Mathew, Scarlett felt safe.

She felt predictable.

He knew her.

He understood her world.

There was already a foundation between them, and with Scarlett, Mathew could imagine a future that felt comfortable and easier to understand.

Scarlett was safe and predictable for Mathew.

And there was nothing wrong with Scarlett.

She was on her own journey.

She had a good heart.

She was beautiful and successful.

But she was not Joann.

Before Mathew made the relationship public, Joann received a premonition.

She saw his lover.

And although Joann still didn’t understand everything happening between the dream world, the Underworld, and the physical world, something inside of her broke.

She felt grief.

A deep sadness in her chest.

An emptiness she couldn’t explain.

Then Mathew made the relationship public.

And Joann understood.

As Joann continued deeper into her spiritual journey, she found herself still seeking Mathew in the spiritual world.

Her awakening continued.

Her gifts deepened.

And eventually Joann became an initiate of the Dark Mother.

The Dark Mother began removing attachments from Joann’s life.

Old identities.

Old relationships.

Old beliefs.

Old places where Joann had given away her power.

And eventually, Joann had to face Mathew too.

For a long time, Joann believed she simply had not been good enough for him.

She wasn’t wealthy enough.

She wasn’t spiritually developed enough.

She struggled too much.

Her life was too complicated.

And Mathew had known about their spiritual connection long before Joann fully understood it.

Yet he had still chosen someone else.

Eventually something changed inside of Joann.

She realized she was no longer willing to hold a candle for someone who had willingly thrown her away.

She could forgive Mathew.

But forgiveness did not mean she had to continue waiting for him.

As Joann stepped deeper into the energy of the Dark Mother, into the teachings of Lilith and Hecate, something inside of her became very clear.

Joann finally began recognizing her own worth.

And strangely enough, the person she had believed was destined to love her became one of the greatest catalysts for learning to love herself.

Mathew, by throwing her away, had awakened something in Joann.

He had pushed her toward her own divinity.

Her own worthiness.

Her own truth.

Joann stopped seeking love outside of herself.

She began cultivating love within herself.

She began cultivating self-worth.

Value.

Divinity.

Truth.

She no longer needed to be chosen because she was choosing herself.

And one day Joann finally claimed:

“I will no longer accept Mathew as my mate.”

Even if things do not work out between Mathew and Scarlett, I will not choose someone who willingly chose not to choose me.

I will not choose someone who could not accept me while I was struggling.

I will not wait to become worthy enough for someone to love me.

I reject the idea that I have to wait for someone else to recognize my value before I recognize it myself.

Joann realized she did not hate Mathew.

She did not need revenge.

She did not need him to suffer.

She could forgive him.

But she no longer needed him to return.

And perhaps that was the real gift hidden inside their story.

Not the promise that Mathew would eventually come back.

Not the hope that the star-crossed lovers would finally reunite.

But the awakening that happened inside Joann when she finally stopped waiting.

She chose herself.

And for the first time in her life, that was enough.

This story is still in its very early stages, but I wanted to share it with you because parts of it were sparked by my own spiritual journey.

I also wanted to share it as a potential outlet for you.

Writing a fantasy story can be a beautiful way to reflect on your own life while still giving yourself room to be creative.

You can make it mystical.

You can create different worlds.

You can write about dragons, gods, goddesses, demons, lovers, dream worlds, ancestors, or anything else that comes through for you.

Sometimes creativity gives us another way to explore our own inner truth and our own inner journey.

Maybe there is a story inside of you too.

Name Meanings:

Joann

Joann is a variation of Joanna, traditionally connected to the meaning “God is gracious.”

I loved this for her because even through everything she endured, her relationship with God and Spirit remained part of her story.

Mathew

Mathew is connected to the meaning “gift of God.”

In the story, Mathew becomes a gift in an unexpected way. Not because he ultimately chooses Joann, but because the experience helps awaken her to her own worth and divinity.

Scarlett

Scarlett is traditionally associated with the color scarlet, a deep red.

Symbolically , it carries the energy of passion, strength, desire, and the material world, which fits her grounded, confident, established nature.

Who I Am Becoming

Week of September 14, 2026

When I ask myself who I am becoming, I also have to look at who I have been.

Who was I?

I moved out of my house for the first time when I was around 17. I went back for a few months, and during that period of my life, a lot happened.

I was in hair school.

I entered the adult entertainment industry.

I became a stripper and later a sex worker.

For a long time, I felt trapped in that world. Or maybe more accurately, I believed I was trapped there.

There were parts of that experience that felt liberating. There were also parts that carried a lot of shame and guilt for me.

When I look back at the relationships I had during that time, I can see patterns much more clearly now.

For a long time, I resonated with people who didn't value me, didn't believe in me, or didn't lift me up.

That doesn't mean those people were bad.

I think many times our wounds were simply finding each other.

We were mirroring things back to one another and playing out unhealthy dynamics that had been created much earlier in our lives.

And because I didn't understand what was happening yet, I kept experiencing similar relationships and similar patterns.

The people would change.

The circumstances would change.

But the lesson kept appearing.

A lot of those cycles came back to not believing in myself, not trusting myself, and not having the courage to choose what I really wanted.

I also didn't have the spiritual foundation that I have today.

I didn't understand then what I understand now about my relationship with God, Spirit, Source, the Divine Mother, and the Divine Father.

I didn't understand what it felt like to believe that I was guided, protected, and able to listen within myself for direction.

Today, I am different.

I am someone who practices meditation.

I deeply reflect on my experiences.

I look at what is happening inside of me instead of only reacting to what is happening around me.

That doesn't mean I never struggle.

I still spiral sometimes.

I still experience sadness.

I still get overwhelmed.

There is a full spectrum of emotions in the human experience.

But one of the biggest changes I can see in myself is that I don't stay there as long.

Now I can sometimes recognize the spiral while I am inside of it.

I can sit with myself.

I can breathe.

I can observe what is happening.

And little by little, I return to myself.

I am learning how to listen to myself.

I am becoming more finely tuned to what feels like a yes and what feels like a no.

What feels expansive.

What feels constricting.

What feels true for me.

I get to choose my life.

And part of choosing my life has meant recognizing the places where I have tried to force myself into a mold.

Nursing has been a big one for me.

I have been a nurse for eight years now, and I am incredibly thankful for my nursing career.

It has served me in so many ways.

But after a couple of years, I started to recognize that parts of that path were no longer completely in alignment with me.

Still, I kept thinking I needed to go further.

More education.

Higher levels of nursing.

Maybe becoming a nurse practitioner.

Following the corporate structure and continuing to climb.

Because that felt realistic.

And nursing had become part of my identity.

I think there was also a fear that if I didn't achieve the highest of the high within the ambitions I once had, then maybe I had failed.

But I am starting to understand that differently.

My nursing career can have served me deeply without needing to be the all-end-all of who I am.

I can appreciate the nurse.

I can appreciate the woman who wanted security.

And I can also recognize that there are other goals, dreams, and parts of my soul and life purpose emerging.

For a long time, I had one foot in and one foot out.

I would start businesses and feel excited about entrepreneurship, freedom, spirituality, creativity, working with others, and serving humanity.

And then I would get scared.

What if it didn't work?

What if I couldn't support myself?

What if I wasn't capable?

So I would move back toward what felt safe and understandable.

And I can see now how much of that came back to self-belief.

Could I really believe in myself enough to go after what I wanted?

Could I believe that my gifts had value?

Could I believe that what lights me up inside matters?

That is part of the work I am doing now.

And a huge part of it has been accepting who I used to be.

The girl who got me here.

The woman who got me here.

Forgiving myself for the wrongs, the difficult moments, the bad choices, the things I felt guilty about, and the things I carried shame around.

And recognizing that I really was doing the best I could with what I knew at the time.

I am thankful for that girl.

I am thankful for the woman I used to be because she carried me here.

And as I forgive and appreciate these different versions of myself, I also recognize more of who I truly am.

I am a compassionate being.

I am a loving being.

I deserve love.

I deserve compassion.

I deserve joy.

I deserve to feel excited about my life.

And when I think about the woman I am becoming, she feels whimsical.

She feels free.

She is expressive.

She opens her heart to her desires.

She gets lit up in excitement and follows that path.

She steps into courage even when something feels scary or uncomfortable.

A lot of the work I feel called toward also involves going into heavy places.

Shadow work.

Inner child work.

The parts of ourselves we may have rejected.

And I want to be able to sit with others as they enter those places within themselves so they can access their own wisdom, come home to themselves, and begin cultivating new beliefs and new truths.

In many ways, that is exactly what I am doing within myself.

Emptying the cup.

Stripping away who I am not.

And asking:

Who am I underneath all of this?

One practice that has been really helpful for me lately is working with affirmations and mantras.

One of them is:

I belong here.

But for me, it isn't only about saying the words.

I Feel it.

I embody each affirmation.

I visualize myself living inside of that belief.

What would it feel like if I really believed I belonged here?

How would I move?

How would I speak?

How would I create?

Some of the other affirmations I have been practicing are:

I believe in myself.

I trust myself.

I deserve love.

I deserve compassion.

I deserve joy.

I am supported.

I am guided.

And I would encourage you to try this for yourself.

Think about a version of yourself from your past that you still judge.

Can you recognize what they were carrying?

Can you recognize that maybe they were doing the best they could?

Can you forgive them?

Can you thank them for getting you here?

And then ask yourself:

Who am I becoming?

What brings me joy?

What brings me excitement?

What keeps calling to me?

What would I choose if I deeply believed I deserved the life I wanted?

For me, stepping into who I truly am has meant opening my heart to my desires, allowing myself to get excited, and having the courage to follow what lights me up.

Trusting myself.

Trusting Spirit.

Trusting God.

Trusting that I am guided and supported.

And I am so thankful for the woman I am becoming and for the little steps I am taking toward my goals, my blessings, working with others, and serving humanity.

I hope something in my experience helps you reflect on your own journey.

Until next time...

I Accept You. You Are Welcome Here.

Week of September 7, 2026

This week, something I’ve been focused on a lot in my meditation practice is deep self-acceptance.

I recently made an Instagram video with a short exercise and practice for self-acceptance, and this has really come from what I’ve been practicing myself.

During my meditative state, I’ve been sitting and simply noticing what’s arising.

Maybe it’s discomfort. Maybe I feel like I need to move. Maybe I don’t want to meditate. Maybe I’m frustrated or distracted.

Sometimes I just sit with that, and once the awareness comes in, it helps the energy begin to settle.

But lately I’ve been taking it even further.

When I notice something arising, I begin saying to myself:

I accept you.

You are welcome here.

It’s okay.

This is perfectly normal.

Another mantra I’ve been working with during my meditation practice is:

I belong here.

I’m allowed to take up space.

And I’ve found myself using this outside of meditation too, especially at the gym.

Sometimes I start to feel overwhelmed with all of the people around me. Sometimes I feel insecure about myself or insecure about my body.

When I notice that emotion of insecurity, and I become aware that I’m thinking those thoughts and feeling those emotions, I begin speaking gently to myself.

I accept me.

I’m allowed to be here.

I accept my body.

I appreciate my body.

This has been a really beautiful shift for me, and it’s such a simple thing we can do to begin practicing self-acceptance.

And this can happen anywhere.

Maybe you’re out socializing with friends and all of a sudden you feel like you don’t fit in or you don’t belong.

Maybe you feel like you have to people-please.

Maybe you feel like you have to put on some kind of facade.

Maybe you feel uncomfortable, anxious, ashamed, guilty, angry, agitated, insecure, or like you’re not good enough.

Once you become aware of whatever that pattern is, instead of trying to change it or fight it, I’d like to invite you to simply notice it.

Become aware of the thought.

Become aware of the emotion.

Notice how your body feels.

And then begin practicing acceptance.

I accept you.

You are welcome here.

And notice how you speak to yourself.

I’d like to invite you to speak gently to yourself.

This has been a really important part of my practice, especially since my ayahuasca ceremony in July.

One of my biggest takeaways from working with Mama Aya was how gently she spoke to me and how important it is for me to speak gently and kindly to myself.

She called me:

“My sweet girl.”

That really stayed with me.

Sometimes I come back to that.

I tell myself:

I’m a sweet girl.

I’m a kind person.

I am a good mother.

I say nice things to myself.

And especially during those moments of discomfort and self-judgment, I’ve found this to be really helpful.

I also want to share that on the meditative journey, whether you’re just beginning to meditate or you’re deep in your practice, you’re not doing anything wrong.

It’s completely natural to be distracted.

It’s completely natural to have moments where you don’t want to sit there.

Some days you may have a beautiful meditation that feels easy and flowing.

Other days it may not feel so easy.

You may even go through seasons of that.

For me, a big part of the practice has become noticing what’s arising, becoming aware of it, and instead of fighting it, gently saying:

I accept you.

You are welcome here.

A Journey Within: A Gentle Self-Acceptance Practice

So this week, I want to invite you to try the same practice I’ve been using.

Think of a moment today when you felt uncomfortable or out of place.

What was that feeling?

What thought was going through your mind?

How did your body feel?

Maybe you felt anxious.

Maybe you felt angry or agitated.

Maybe you felt ashamed, guilty, insecure, or like you weren’t good enough.

Maybe you felt like you didn’t belong.

The first step is becoming aware.

Notice the thought.

Notice the emotion.

Notice what is happening in your body.

And then, instead of judging yourself, fighting the feeling, or trying to make it go away, begin speaking gently to yourself.

I accept you.

You are welcome here.

I love you.

You belong here.

It’s okay.

This is perfectly normal.

And then just notice.

What happens when you begin speaking to yourself this way?

Does anything change in your body?

Does your breath change?

Does the emotion feel different?

Does your energy begin to shift?

Allow yourself to notice whatever arises.

Can you look at this part of yourself without judging it?

Can you see yourself with the same gentleness you would give to an innocent child who was feeling scared, uncomfortable, angry, or unsure?

This is what I’ve been practicing.

Notice. Become aware. Accept. Speak gently. Then notice what happens.

And sometimes, instead of fighting what’s arising, we can simply say:

I see you.

I accept you.

You are welcome here.

Unitl next time...

When the Past Comes Back Around

Week of August 31, 2026

A reflection on betrayal, boundaries, compassion, and what deep inner work can bring forward.

Over the past month or so, I’ve been doing a lot of deep inner work.

A lot of shadow work and compassion for myself. I’ve also been awakening to different perspectives of my past.

I’ve been recognizing more clearly how people treated me, but I’ve also been looking at myself. My lack of self-love, my lack of worthiness, my deep desire to be chosen, and how those things affected the relationships I stayed in.

While I’ve been going through this inner transformation, something really interesting has happened.

Within about 30 days, two different people from my past reached out to me.

Both relationships were highly dysfunctional and codependent, and both people resurfaced while I was already doing inner work connected to those exact periods of my life.

For me, there is synchronicity in that.

I’ve experienced this many times throughout my spiritual journey. When I begin shining light on a wound, a pattern, or something from my past, something connected to it seems to come forward.

It becomes another spiritual catalyst and gives me an opportunity to look deeper.

The First Person Who Reached Out

The first person was a man from my past.

He apologized for things that had happened between us and pointed out something I already knew about myself.

He talked about how much I used to seek his approval.

And he was right.

I wanted to be chosen. I wanted someone outside of myself to confirm that I was worthy.

I can appreciate that his own spiritual journey has allowed him to recognize some of the dysfunction within our relationship and his part in it.

How deep that awareness goes, I don’t know. And I don’t really need to know.

What mattered to me was what his message brought up inside of me.

There was one part of his email that stayed with me, and not in a comfortable way.

At the very end, he wrote, "I’ll be watching.”

Maybe he meant it as a joke. Maybe he meant it as encouragement. I really don’t know.

But it bothered me.

Especially because earlier in the same email, he acknowledged that I used to seek his approval and that he knew how much his approval affected me.

So when I read, “I’ll be watching,” something in me immediately felt that old dynamic again.

It felt like he was still placing himself in that position of watching me, maybe even approving or disapproving from a distance.

And I noticed that I didn’t like it.

I don’t need to perform well for someone from my past.

Maybe that wasn’t his intention at all. But part of this work for me is paying attention to what happens inside of me instead of immediately dismissing it or explaining it away.

That line bothered me. And I’m allowed to notice that.

Then Came the Second Person

The second person was a woman I was very good friends with for a long time.

We had an extremely dysfunctional and codependent relationship.

We both worked in the sex industry together as strippers during that period of our lives.

There was competition, jealousy, and this constant feeling of needing to be better or needing to be chosen.

Recently, she reached out because she wanted to make amends.

She has been sober for a year and has been walking her own Christian spiritual path.

During our conversation, she confessed things from our past that were extremely painful for me to hear.

One was that she had slept with one of my lovers behind my back.

I didn’t know.

We continued having a friendship afterward while she knew what had happened and I didn’t.

But there was another confession that was much more difficult for me.

It involved a serious relationship I was in for years.

I loved this man very deeply.

Through that relationship, I became part of his friend group, and I eventually introduced her to the man who is now her husband through that same group.

As time went on, I became very uncomfortable with the dynamic developing between her and my boyfriend.

I saw the sexual tension. I saw behavior that didn’t feel appropriate to me.

I knew something was happening.

And I called it out.

Because I was the one calling attention to it, I became the problem.

I was made to feel jealous and like I was seeing something that wasn’t there.

Eventually, I was ostracized from that group while other people defended her.

What was happening between the two of them also deeply affected my relationship with him.

All these years later, she confirmed that there had been an emotional affair between them.

She knew he was falling in love with her.

She told me she was going through a very difficult time and that she was using him to comfort and support her through it.

She sexualized and hypersexualized herself with him. She manipulated him for her own gains and continued allowing that emotional relationship because she was getting something she needed from him.

That was incredibly painful for me to hear.

It was painful because of what it did to me, but also because of what it did to him.

And he is no longer here.

He has passed away.

I won’t share the circumstances of his death because that part of his story is not mine to tell.

But I loved him deeply.

To hear all these years later that something I had seen, felt, and tried so desperately to communicate was actually happening brought a lot up for me.

I had been made to doubt myself.

And now I was being told that I had been right about what I was seeing.

There is something difficult about finally receiving validation for something you begged people to understand years before.

It didn’t immediately make me feel better.

In some ways, it created another layer of grief.

Watching My Own Pattern Come Back

What was also interesting was watching my own patterns return while we were having this conversation.

I started fawning.

I started people-pleasing and trying to make her comfortable while she was telling me things that were incredibly painful for me to hear.

There were explanations and justifications.

We weren’t together when this happened.

We weren’t friends when that happened.

And I could feel myself trying to smooth everything over.

I was comforting the person who was confessing these things to me.

After the conversation ended and I actually had time to sit with myself, everything started coming up.

Anger. Grief. Sadness. Pain.

And validation.

There was a younger version of me saying, I knew what I saw. I knew what I felt. Why didn’t anybody believe me?

Where I am today, I don’t want to repress that version of myself anymore.

If she’s angry, I want to allow her to be angry.

If she’s grieving, I want to allow her to grieve.

I want to hear what she has to say.

I don’t want to force forgiveness or compassion before I’ve even allowed myself to feel what happened.

And I don’t want to use spirituality to bypass what actually happened to me.

At the same time, I can still recognize that another person is on their own journey.

I don’t have to abandon myself in order to have compassion for somebody else.

What Does It Mean to Make Amends?

This experience has also made me think a lot about what it actually means to make amends.

If we confess something to another person that we have been carrying for years, who is that confession serving?

Is it serving the person we hurt, or is it helping us release our own guilt?

What happens when something that makes us feel lighter makes the person we harmed feel heavier?

Those are questions I have genuinely been sitting with.

During our conversation, there was even some awareness that telling me these things could be something she was doing for her own release.

Afterward, I had to sit with the fact that she released something she had been carrying for years while I immediately went into an old pattern of comforting her through it.

I also believe she genuinely thought she was doing something meaningful.

She is on her own spiritual journey. She has grown and developed awareness she did not have years ago.

I respect that.

And I can still admit that the experience was extremely painful for me.

It also made me think about the importance of mentorship, teachers, programs, and having people around us who can help us see what we may not be able to see ourselves.

It helped me understand why 12-step programs have specific guidance around making amends and considering whether an amends could cause further harm.

We can genuinely believe we are doing something spiritual or morally right and still have blind spots.

I certainly have my own blind spots.

I watched one of mine happen in real time when I started fawning during this conversation.

Looking at My Own Part Without Blaming Myself

When I look back at this period of my life, I can see myself differently now.

My self-worth was incredibly low.

I wanted so badly to be loved and accepted that I tolerated things I would not tolerate today.

When I go deeper, I can also see how some of these dynamics mirrored things that began much earlier in my life.

My relationship with my mother carried its own feelings of not being accepted, jealousy, competition, and trying to earn love.

So when similar dynamics showed up later in my adult relationships, there was already something familiar about them.

These patterns didn’t begin with this friendship.

They didn’t begin with these men.

These relationships became another place where older wounds were playing themselves out.

And I don’t want to tell this story only from the perspective of what another person did to me.

I also want to look at myself.

I want to look at what happened to me, what I allowed because of where I was within myself at the time, the intuition I stopped trusting, and the ways I abandoned myself because I wanted to keep relationships.

Most importantly, I want to have compassion for the woman I was when all of this was happening.

I can’t go backward and give her the awareness I have today.

But I can stop judging her.

I am learning to trust myself.

Compassion Does Not Mean Reconnection

During our conversation, this woman told me that she wished she knew who I am today.

She also told me this wasn’t goodbye.

I don’t know what the future holds or how I’ll feel later.

Right now, I don’t feel called to reopen that relationship.

And I’m allowing myself to feel that way.

I can appreciate her growth without inviting her back into my life.

I can have love and compassion for somebody and still have boundaries.

One of the biggest things I’ve been sitting with throughout all of this is the timing.

I was already looking at these wounds and these old versions of myself. I was already beginning to release things I had carried for years.

And then these two people came back.

For me, they became spiritual catalysts.

There was more for me to look at and process that maybe I wasn’t able to fully process while I was actually living through these experiences.

I’ve also been thinking about how, as we move deeper into our spiritual journey and our inner light grows, it can almost feel like moths being drawn to a flame.

People, old patterns, wounds, situations, and even heavier energies can come forward because they are seeking light too.

I don’t think that means we have to take everything back into our lives.

I don’t think every person who returns is supposed to stay.

But I do pay attention when something from my past suddenly comes forward while I am already doing work around that exact part of myself.

So I want to leave you with some of the same questions I’ve been asking myself.

Have you ever started doing deep inner work and suddenly somebody or something from your past came back around?

Have you ever received validation years later for something you knew deep within yourself all along?

And if something from your past is coming forward now, what part of you is asking to finally be heard or believed?

Know you are the light you see in others... As our light grows the darkness will follow, like moths to a flame.

Until next time;

Stasia

The Beliefs I Carried Before I Had Words

Week of August 24, 2026

I was conceived from rape.

I know this is really heavy. I learned about this back in 2024 at an Ayahuasca retreat, and afterward I was able to confront my mom and have a conversation with her. She verified the information and the wisdom that I learned from the medicine.

My mom was 19 when she conceived me. At the time, her boyfriend was a coke dealer who had been arrested and was in jail awaiting trial. His friend and his mother conspired to rape my mom so that she would be with child, making him look more like a family man and potentially helping reduce his sentencing by showing that he was needed.

His friend took my mom out, drugged her, and raped her.

My mom told me as a child that she tried to get rid of me a couple of times and that I was lucky to be alive. She also told me at various times that I was special, and that was why.

But I want to talk about the environment I was developing in as a fetus, embryo, and baby inside my mother's womb, and how I believe that environment created subconscious beliefs within me.

My mom was probably terrified and experiencing a huge lack of trust. At the time, she was also abusing cocaine. I was conceived in a very unhealthy environment filled with a lot of heaviness.

My mom also believes that her boyfriend's mother was a bruja and that she used her spiritual practices to help bring about my conception. So from my mother's perspective, my conception involved not only what happened to her physically, but a spiritual dimension as well through the practices of this Puerto Rican woman.

This is where a meditation I did several months ago comes in, when I found what I believe is one of my roots of shame.

During my conception and while I was in the womb, my mother experienced a lot of shame, fear, and anxiety because of what had happened to her. In that, she was also rejecting me.

And of course, I don't blame my mother. I think she was doing the best she could with what she had, and I believe she kept me largely out of fear.

But I also believe that environment created a subconscious belief within me that I wasn't wanted.

I was developing inside an energetic environment filled with shame, fear, and rejection, and that left an imprint on me.

After I was born, my mother was still dealing with everything she had experienced without having the tools, ability, or consciousness to process it. So those things came out indirectly. The rejection was still there.

Then my grandmother, who was one of my caregivers, died from breast cancer when I was only six months old.

Shortly after that, my mom met somebody else, and they eventually moved to Canada, to the Mi'kmaq Nation, where he was from. My mom essentially fled the Puerto Rican family that had damaged her and caused her a lot of pain and suffering.

The man she married, my sister's father, was Mi'kmaq. He was an alcoholic and very abusive, and the two of them fought horrifically.

Through my meditation practice and flashbacks, I've come to understand that as a child, I wasn't fully received or accepted, especially by him, but also by my mother.

There was the toxic environment, the judgment, shame, guilt, yelling, and being treated differently, especially after my sister was born. I was only about two years old. At that age, I couldn't intellectually understand what was happening, but on an energetic level, I knew I wasn't being received and I didn't feel loved.

Because I couldn't understand what was happening as a two-year-old, I believe a belief system became ingrained in me that I wasn't enough.

I started trying to seek approval and love. I would do everything I could not to upset them and to be accepted, while also noticing the radical difference in how I was treated.

And that pattern followed me.

There has been this underlying subconscious program throughout my life:

I am not wanted.

I am not loved.

There is something shameful about me.

I've sought out relationships that mirrored those same patterns of rejection and not being enough. I became a people-pleaser. I adjusted myself. I chased unhealthy relationships, not just romantic relationships, but friendships and other social relationships as well.

I continued to find myself in situations where the people around me, whether friends, kids, teachers, or others, weren't accepting of me.

As I've become aware of this as an adult, I've been able to see how much I was chasing acceptance.

There was this underlying belief within my inner child that if I could just get them to accept me, then I would be worthy of love.

I kept trying to change difficult people who weren't for me because, somewhere underneath it all, this little girl inside of me so deeply wanted her daddy to accept her.

I didn't know at the time that I was conceived from rape. I believed my sister's father was my biological father, and I desperately wanted him to love me.

And on an even deeper and more painful level, I wanted my mom to love me.

I experienced a lot of betrayal as a child because I didn't feel that she chose me or protected me. I experienced horrific physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, and my mom didn't have the capacity or strength at that time to stop it or change it.

There was also an undertone of jealousy. I felt that my mom saw me as a threat and would constantly dim my light.

I share this because recognizing all of this has been a lifelong process for me.

Through my awakening journey and my journey within, I've come to realize that these programs have been running in the background.

Now, at 39 years old, I'm becoming conscious much more rapidly when these patterns begin to mirror themselves again in my life. I can recognize when I'm pursuing relationships with women who, on some level, are treating me in ways that feel like the environment I grew up in: not accepting me, rejecting me, or competing with me.

And I used to chase those relationships.

Now, I'm able to shine light on what is happening much sooner.

Instead of going down a long road with someone, experiencing the rejection again, and recreating what I went through as a child, I'm learning to recognize it, create space, and protect myself.

This is something I find really powerful about inner child work.

Part of this practice is recognizing that I have to soothe, nurture, and take care of my inner child.

And sometimes that means creating space.

In some of my meditative practices, I sit with my inner child. I allow whatever version of her needs to arise to come forward, and I give her whatever it is that she needs.

Sometimes she just needs to be held.

More recently, my practice has been allowing her to experience joy.

Because I've experienced so much pain, trauma, and conditional love, playfulness, lightness, and joy can actually feel uncomfortable for me. These aren't the ways my patterns, my brain, my consciousness, and my neural networks were formed.

Joy can be hard for me. I can even resist it.

So now, part of my practice is seeing my inner child and intentionally giving her moments of joy. Sometimes those moments are very brief because that's all I have the capacity for.

And I wonder, where are you in your own patterns and subconscious programming?

What arises for you?

Where do you see heavy emotions and patterns playing out over and over again?

And where can you begin to see that maybe these patterns aren't really you? That you may be reliving subconscious programs and traumas from childhood.

I hope this helps.

Until next time.

Learning to Be Present When Life Is Happening Around Me

Week of August 17, 2026

My meditation practice in the morning usually starts a little while after I wake up. I practice on the couch, and normally my son and his dad are doing their own morning routine. Paul is usually in the kitchen, and Asher is usually on the couch having breakfast or watching one of his shows. We have an open floor plan, so they're always around me doing their morning thing.

I actually choose to practice meditation in an environment where there can be distractions. Not that it's necessarily always loud in the morning, but this practice reminds me of a Zen teaching I learned when I went to a Zen center in New Haven, Connecticut.

The Zen master taught us to think of the mind almost like a screen. You're aware and conscious of everything happening around you, but instead of grasping onto everything, you allow it to filter through your mind, like noises outside coming through a window screen.

I've also been influenced by Eckhart Tolle's teachings about bringing presence into everyday life. It's one thing to practice in an environment that has been fine-tuned for spiritual practice without all of the distractions of everyday life. It's a completely different experience trying to practice presence while living in the real world, surrounded by distractions, difficult situations and sometimes difficult personalities.

That's where I want to practice.

So I sit on my couch, close my eyes and begin tapping into what's happening around me, in my body and in my mind.

This is where it gets interesting.

I'll hear something happening around me and immediately know Asher needs something. My first visceral reaction as a mom might be, Paul, do this for him while I'm meditating. Or I'll suddenly become aware of a problem and immediately start thinking of a solution.

This is one of those moments that pulls me away from presence. I move out of the witness state and into "doing." Instead of simply observing what's happening, my mind wants to intervene, solve or respond.

Interestingly enough, when I begin moving into a meditative state, I sometimes tap into the energy of my teachers. Sometimes it's a Zen master or another teacher, and it's like I'm in this mind space with them. Their role is usually to guide me back to center.

The Zen master I tap into quite a bit is always telling me something along the lines of, It's okay. Come back to yourself. Sit with yourself. You have nothing to do.

And I come back.

Some days it's easier than others. Sometimes I can stay present longer, and other times I'm bouncing back and forth between presence, what's happening around me, my thoughts and even the future.

Sometimes I start finding future solutions to problems while I'm meditating. This can be really annoying because I'm trying to get present and tap in, and suddenly my mind has decided we're going to solve everything.

So I continue coming back.

Which brings me to another part of my morning practice: tapping into the body for presence.

Moving through my body helps me become more present. For me, it's a multidimensional experience.

One level of my awareness is hearing and absorbing everything coherently happening around me. I don't necessarily tune those things out. That's not my objective. I'm aware of what's happening without following every sound or situation and trying to solve it.

Then I begin drawing my attention inward through my body. Almost like level-two presence, haha.

I start at the top of my head and slowly bring my awareness down through my body. I notice my face, jaw and neck. I move into my shoulders, chest and back, down through my arms and hands. I bring my awareness into my stomach and digestive system and then continue moving down through my hips, legs and feet.

I'm not necessarily trying to change anything. I'm feeling what's there.

Where am I holding tension? Where do I feel relaxed? Where can I feel energy moving? What sensations are present? What is my body communicating?

Sometimes my body becomes very specific about certain foods I've recently eaten and how difficult they are for me to digest. I'm also on my own wellness journey, so learning to listen to my body has become part of this practice.

I notice where energy is moving through my body and where it isn't. Maybe I notice tension in my shoulders and allow them to drop. I notice the nerves and energy flowing through my hands. I bring awareness to my digestive system.

I'm aware of what's happening inside my body while still consciously aware of what's happening in the environment around me.

And sometimes it becomes a back and forth.

One moment I'm completely in my body. Another moment I'm more aware of everything happening around me. And then there are those golden moments where somehow I'm holding awareness of both.

I'll have these glimmers of complete presence where I'm aware of my body, the outside world and my mind at the same time without needing to attach myself to any of it.

Then my mind intervenes again.

Maybe suddenly I have an entire diet plan. Or I've started emotionally going down some rabbit hole. Seriously, why did you eat that? Why aren't you exercising every day?

And there it is.

A self-shaming pattern at some level.

When I follow it, I can feel that intuitive channel and presence becoming smaller and smaller.

So I come back to my body.

I come back to presence.

I observe.

Sometimes I can actually watch my mind begin this process without reacting to it. Something I've noticed over time is that the less reactive I am to the mind, the shorter these stories and spirals become.

That's where the awareness begins to arise that I am not my thoughts.

There's a level of detachment that begins happening. The thoughts can be there without me having to follow them.

They're happening automatically. Becoming aware of that has been a really powerful experience for me.

Who Am I? I Don't Know.

This brings me back to another Zen practice I learned: Who am I? Don't know.

It's a meditation where you breathe in with Who am I? and breathe out with Don't know.

I don't practice that exact meditation much anymore, but I'm beginning to understand its value differently through my current practice.

The more aware I become, the more I begin stripping away who I'm not.

I'm aware of Paul and Asher moving around the house. Sometimes I become so aware that I get visual glimpses of what they're doing, almost like seeing it in a movie.

I'm aware of my body. I'm present enough within it that I feel like a channel opens and my body begins communicating its needs. I can notice where energy is flowing, where there's tension and what my body may be asking for, whether that's nutrition, rest or hydration.

Then there's another level of awareness where I'm observing my mind.

I see how my mind likes to stay busy. I see how it wants to solve problems, find solutions and sometimes even protect me by creating stories.

And I can look at that and think, Oh, that's interesting.

Those are the things I'm observing.

So who am I underneath all of that?

I don't know.

I think there are layers of presence. As our consciousness and awareness expand, so does our ability to hold all of this information at once without being attached to the information.

For me, this has become a really interesting and beautiful practice.

Beginning Your Own Practice

If you're new to meditation and want to experiment with this kind of practice, I think three to five minutes a day is realistic.

I personally like practicing in the morning because things are moving a little slower. I also know myself. If I don't get certain routines done first thing, they typically don't get done.

You could even practice while you're still in bed after waking.

Close your eyes, or soften your gaze like you might in a Zen-style meditation, where you're looking toward the floor without fixating on anything.

Then just listen.

What's happening around you?

Maybe it's cold. Maybe it's hot. Maybe you hear your neighbor upstairs, a dog outside or a truck driving by.

Become aware of what's happening in your environment.

Maybe you stay with just this part of the practice for a while. It could be weeks. Don't worry about moving forward quickly. Just start noticing how you feel.

Then begin noticing what arises within you.

Are you irritated?

I go through this sometimes. I'll think, Ah, why can't they just be quiet?

Then I remember that isn't actually what I want. I want to learn how to go inward within this environment. And honestly, my environment isn't even that hectic. It's just the normal morning routine with my son while his dad is making breakfast or coffee.

But irritation can still arise.

Instead of judging it, I can notice it.

Oh, that's interesting.

What emotions are coming up? What rabbit holes does your mind want to travel down? Are you suddenly trying to solve something? Are you trying to fix something?

Then tap into your body.

Scan from your head to your toes. How does your head feel? Your neck? Is there tension in your shoulders? How does your digestive system feel? Your chest? Your back?

Move through the body and allow yourself to become more and more present.

I have found that the body will speak to you. It's subtle.

Then you'll probably find the distractions again.

Notice your desire to follow them and continue bringing yourself back.

Eventually, you can begin watching the mind itself.

There really isn't an exact order that you have to follow. Do it however you'd like. This is simply how the practice tends to unfold for me in the morning.

As our awareness grows and we become more present, we begin witnessing the emotions, triggers, rabbit holes, problems, solutions and subconscious patterns that arise.

The practice isn't necessarily about finding solutions.

It's about allowing and observing.

The more I observe these things, the more light I shine on them, and the freer I become.

Because eventually this awareness begins showing up in everyday life.

Maybe you're dealing with someone and suddenly recognize a familiar pattern arising within you. Maybe it's happening in a relationship or during a conflict at work.

Because you've been sitting with yourself and becoming conscious of your patterns and the way your mind works, you may now have enough awareness to witness what's happening and pause.

You've created a little bit of space.

And it's not going to be perfect.

Maybe somebody cuts you off in traffic and you get really angry. Then afterward you think, Wow, I wish I didn't get so angry.

The practice isn't beating yourself up for getting angry.

It's becoming curious about what's underneath it.

Maybe it's a pattern around feeling wronged. Maybe it's That's not fair. That's not right. Why am I being treated this way? Maybe your defiant teenager is trying to come out.

Whatever it is, it doesn't really matter. What matters is that you're beginning to become conscious of it.

And the more conscious you become, one of the byproducts of that awareness is choice.

You begin having the ability to choose which direction you go, which spiral you travel down, whether you react or pause, and what you attach yourself to.

These are words we hear in spiritual practices all the time: attachment, non-attachment, the middle path, duality.

But what do they actually look like in our lives?

Are you attached to the anger? Are you attached to the injustice of being cut off in traffic? What is that moment actually challenging within you?

Or can you witness it? Observe it and allow yourself to come back?

Please Be Gentle With Yourself

There's one more part of this practice that I think is really important.

As you begin observing yourself, you're probably going to become aware of a lot of things. And if you're anything like me, I've always been particularly harsh on myself.

Being gentle with yourself in this practice is of the utmost importance.

You are not a being who deserves to live in shame, self-doubt, guilt and pain. You need to take care of yourself. You deserve to be taken care of. You're worthy of being taken care of. You're worthy of self-love. You are so worthy of these beautiful experiences.

This practice isn't here to point out everything that's wrong with you.

Instead, it's helping you become aware of everything you're not.

So when you notice the patterns, the thoughts, the anger, the shame or the rabbit holes your mind goes down, please remember that. Be kind to yourself.

Know that there are beautiful forces out there that love you and are conspiring for your highest good.

Journaling can also be a beautiful tool if it helps you observe the patterns and experiences that begin arising through your practice.

I hope this gives you something to experiment with in your own meditation practice. Thank you for taking the time to sit here with me and read a little bit about mine.

Please be gentle with yourself.

I hope you have a beautiful day.

Until next time.

Coming Back to Center

Week of August 10, 2026

This morning, I found myself really angry.

I'm currently training for a new position, which means I'm essentially glued to my computer for nine hours a day learning an entirely new area of nursing. I'm moving from long term care into children's medical services, so there is a lot of new information, regulations, compliance, and complex medical cases to learn.

At the same time, I'm navigating training while my son is home with me two days a week as part of his homeschool program, while still managing meals and the everyday responsibilities of our home.

Lately, I've been asking for more help with the dishes. I do the meal prep and cooking, and I felt like asking for help with the dishes was a reasonable way to share some of that responsibility.

But there was resistance.

This morning, I was trying to get ready, thinking about everything I needed to do, looking at the dishes that still weren't done, and I got angry. I became consumed by my frustration and reacted from that place.

Eventually, I did the dishes myself, still angry and agitated. I gave him the cold shoulder and stayed in my frustration for a while. But as the intensity of the anger began to settle, I started looking at the situation differently.

I realized how much energy I was spending trying to change someone else.

My need for support was still valid. The boundary I was trying to create still mattered. But I had communicated what I needed, and at some point I had to recognize that I couldn't control what another person chose to do with that information.

I only have control over myself.

But there was another part of this that I needed to look at too.

Where Could I Have Shown Up Differently?

The truth is, I know Paul is tired too. He works all day, and I know that can be mentally draining. We both have a lot going on, and when two tired people are trying to manage a home, parenting, work, and everyday responsibilities, things can get messy.

And if I'm looking at this honestly, I could have communicated differently.

Instead of waiting until I was already frustrated, I could have gotten grounded and allowed myself to be more vulnerable.

I could have said, "I'm really overwhelmed right now. Training is taking a lot out of me, and I feel like I'm struggling to keep up with everything. Can we figure out a system together that feels manageable for both of us?"

That conversation feels very different from one that begins after resentment has already built.

I also know that I'm messy. I know this about myself. There are systems I could create that would make things easier for everyone in the house. That doesn't mean everything becomes my responsibility. It means I can look honestly at what I contribute to the dynamic while still communicating what I need from someone else.

Maybe this isn't about whose fault it is.

Maybe we need better systems.

Maybe we need more communication.

Maybe sometimes the house is simply going to be messy because we have a lot going on, and that doesn't mean anyone has failed.

One thing this morning reminded me of is how important my own grounding practice is.

I have a morning meditation practice, but sometimes I put it off until later in the morning. I'm realizing that I need that time before I step into everything else. Even a few intentional minutes to breathe, connect with my body, and become present can change the energy I bring into a difficult conversation.

Because when I'm grounded, I have more access to vulnerability.

Instead of, "Why haven't you done this?"

I can communicate what is actually underneath my anger:

"I'm overwhelmed."

"I need help."

"I don't feel like our current system is working."

"Can we figure this out together?"

There is softness in that, but softness doesn't mean abandoning a boundary.

When You Feel a Boundary Being Crossed

When you notice yourself becoming reactive because a boundary feels like it's being ignored, start by pausing.

Take a few slow breaths and notice what is happening in your body. Where are you holding the anger? Is your jaw tight? Is your chest heavy? Are your thoughts racing?

You don't have to shame the reaction or pretend you aren't angry. Just notice it.

Then remind yourself:

I have communicated what I need. I cannot control their response. I can control what I do next.

And ask yourself:

What is one small thing I can do right now to continue honoring my boundary?

Maybe you step away until you feel grounded enough to continue the conversation.

Maybe you stop taking responsibility for something that isn't yours.

Maybe you communicate your need again, but this time from a calmer and more vulnerable place.

Maybe you realize that the boundary needs a practical system behind it so everyone understands what they are responsible for.

Or maybe you simply accept that the situation will not be resolved in that moment.

We can communicate our boundaries, but we cannot control how another person responds to them.

What we can do is continue returning to ourselves.

Breathe. Ground. Communicate. Get curious about our own part in the situation, and then decide what is actually within our control.

I don't expect myself to handle every difficult moment perfectly. I don't expect the people around me to either. We are going to get tired. We are going to miscommunicate. The house might be messy sometimes. We might react before we regulate.

But we can come back.

We can have another conversation. We can create a better system. We can apologize when we need to. We can communicate more clearly. And we can practice meeting one another with a little more softness.

For me, that is becoming part of the boundary work too.

Not just learning how to say what I need, but learning how to communicate it while staying connected to myself and leaving room for the other person to be human too.

A Moment for Reflection

How can you relate to this in your own life?

Where might you need to come back to your center, get grounded, and allow whatever wants to arise to simply be there for a moment?

Can you witness the anger, frustration, hurt, or resistance without immediately acting from it?

And once there is a little more space, can you look at the situation with a clearer mind? Can you step into the other person's shoes and consider what they may be carrying too?

This doesn't mean abandoning yourself or allowing your boundaries to be crossed. It means creating room for compassion and empathy, not only for yourself, but for the other person too.

Ask yourself:

What is one small thing I can do to be more vulnerable, honor my boundary, and communicate what I truly need?

Maybe it's taking a breath before responding. Maybe it's sharing what is underneath your anger. Maybe it's asking the other person what they need too. Or maybe it's sitting down together and creating a new way forward that honors both of you.

Allow yourself to get curious about what arises.

Come back to your center. Witness it. Listen inward. Then choose how you want to move forward.