SLEEP! I’ve been know to stand up in the midst of a party (yep, even ones I’ve hosted at my own home) and bid everyone “good night” and ask that the last person to leave lock the door. Sleep is #1 for me. I go to bed at a regular time and get up at a regular time. I like a place for everything and everything in it’s place. Not just any place but a thought out place related to how things will be used. Plus, I’m not a fan of getting off schedule so when I am off schedule I am on a mission to GET IT DONE! Am I hard to live with? Sometimes. 😅 But here’s the thing—this is also how I get results, protect my energy, and stay consistent. Structure gives me freedom. Sleep fuels everything. Systems save my brainpower. I’m sharing this because a lot of people think success comes from doing more, when often it comes from doing things on purpose. Curious—what’s the one non‑negotiable that keeps your life running smoothly? 👇

Betrayal is one of those words that lands with weight. It carries history, memory, and a kind of bone‑deep knowing. It’s no wonder literature, philosophy, and spiritual traditions treat it as sacred terrain. Betrayal touches the very thing that makes us human. TRUST. Can you be disappointed by another without betraying your own soul? It’s a question that doesn’t just ask us to look at what others have done. It asks us to look at the places where we abandon ourselves. And across time, thinkers and writers have been circling this same truth from different angles. James Hillman wrote that betrayal is the moment innocence ends. Like a rite of passage, not as punishment, but as initiation. Until trust is broken, we don’t fully understand what trust is. Betrayal forces us out of fantasy and into reality. It asks us to see the other person clearly and to see ourselves clearly, too. It's not easy. It's deeply maturing. Maya Angelou reminds us that people reveal themselves long before we’re ready to believe them. Dante places betrayers in the lowest circle of hell. Betrayal fractures the invisible threads that hold relationships and communities, together. It’s not just the act. It’s the quiet afterward. The look. The knowing. Shakespeare tells us, be true to yourself first. Most of us were taught the opposite. Keep the peace. Be loyal. Stay agreeable and don't disappoint. Self‑abandonment is still betrayal. It just happens quietly, in the places no one else can see. C.S. Lewis reminds us that only someone we love can betray us. Strangers can hurt us, but they cannot betray us. Which means betrayal is not proof of foolishness. It is proof that we dared to love. Where have you been more afraid of betraying someone else than betraying yourself?

Our house is on the market, we’re preparing to move 45 minutes south, it’s the height of tax season, and Mike can’t lift anything while he waits for hernia surgery. On top of that, my 93‑year‑old father is recovering from a severe fall, and my heart is stretched across the world as people I love navigate frightening, unfamiliar events. In all of this, the practices that usually ground me — writing, reading, reflection — have been harder to reach. Some days it feels like the world is rushing by faster than I can move. I know I’m not the only one carrying a lot right now. If you’re in a season that feels heavy, disorienting, or simply full, you’re welcome to bring that here. This community is a place to show up as you are, steady, scattered, hopeful, overwhelmed, or anything in between. What’s on your plate today, and how are you holding it?

I remember the day as if it were yesterday. I walked into our bedroom, looked at my husband, my now‑late husband, and said, with absolute certainty, 📣 “This… this life is everything I ever dreamed of.” 📣 I meant it. Every word. And then, less than two years later, everything I ever dreamed of felt suddenly out of reach. At least, that’s what I believed at the time. In the 28 years since, I’ve learned something essential about joy: It isn’t a destination. It isn’t a place you arrive and stay. Joy is a moment. Sometimes two. Sometimes three, when something inside you lights up. It might be your child’s first steps, your first job, the recognition of a hard‑earned accomplishment. Or it might be quieter: a deep breath, a sudden awareness that where you stand is exactly where you belong. What I’ve learned is that joy, much like grief, can wash over you in an instant and disappear just as quickly. And just like grief, it asks to be felt. Savored. Honored. Sometimes it shows up as a smile. Sometimes as a tear. Sometimes in the simple act of closing your eyes, spreading your arms, and spinning, just because you’re alive. And because I’m alive, I know I may experience something new at any moment. For me, there is joy in waking up to a new day with new hope for what may come. Not because life is perfect, or predictable, or anything like what I once imagined, but because joy still finds its way in. And I’ve learned to let it. How are you letting joy in?

Can't wait to see all of you on Saturday. Let us know if you plan to attend. Calendar Link 👈