Insight and Healing

The Journey With the Horses

This summer I stepped into a different kind of circle—one not held in a room, but in a field, with the quiet presence of horses as my guides.

Horses carry a wisdom that goes beyond words. They listen with their whole bodies. They respond to energy, to intention, to what is unspoken but deeply felt. Standing with them, I couldn’t hide behind polished words or practiced smiles. They met me exactly as I was—present, raw, true.

It was humbling, and it was holy.

As I walked beside them, I felt layers of armor fall away. Old fears, old roles, the need to prove. In their eyes I saw a mirror of my soul—still strong, still steady, still worthy of trust.

The journey with the horses wasn’t about control, but about connection. It was about remembering that leadership comes not from force, but from presence. That healing happens not through effort, but through authenticity.

I left with dust on my boots, sun on my skin, and a heart that felt wider, freer. The horses had spoken, and I had finally listened.

✨ Reflection for You: Where in your life can you lead less with effort, and more with presence?

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Three Days of Finding My Voice and Speaking from My Soul

For three days, I sat in sacred space with kindred spirits, each of us leaning into the tender work of voice. We listened, not just with our ears, but with our hearts. We spoke, not just from our mouths, but from the deep well of soul.

At first, my voice felt shy, like a bird unsure of leaving its nest. I noticed all the ways I had kept it small over the years—holding back, silencing truth, softening edges to make others comfortable. But as the days unfolded, something shifted. A new courage rose. My words began to carry not just sound, but the vibration of who I really am.

Finding my voice has not been about speaking louder. It’s been about speaking truer. About letting my story be medicine, even when my voice trembles. About trusting that what flows through me comes from a deeper Source, and that it is enough.

These three days reminded me: the soul is always speaking. The question is, am I listening—and will I allow her to sing?

✨ Reflection for You: What is your soul longing to say right now, if you give it space to speak?

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Three Days to Find My Voice

At first,
my voice was a whisper,
a bird unsure of leaving the nest.

But the circle held me,
the silence invited me,
and slowly,
my soul began to speak.

Not louder,
but truer.

Each word a thread of light,
woven from the marrow of who I am.

I remembered—
my story is medicine,
my voice is holy,
and I was never meant to be silent.

Burnout and the Need for Rest

This summer has reminded me of something I often share with others but sometimes forget to practice myself: rest is not a luxury—it’s a necessity.

The swirl of moving, renovating, and starting fresh brought joy and momentum, but it also left me weary. Burnout whispers in subtle ways—fatigue that lingers, creativity that feels heavy instead of alive, a nervous system that says, slow down.

I’ve learned that honoring these signals is not weakness, but wisdom. Rest allows the soul to catch up with the body. It clears space for clarity, inspiration, and healing to return. Without it, we risk running on empty.

So I’m giving myself permission to pause. To let the garden, the walks, and quiet mornings refill me. To trust that even when I’m not “doing,” life is still unfolding in sacred order.

Perhaps you need that reminder too: it’s okay to rest. In fact, it’s essential.

New Beginnings

June has been a month of endings and beginnings. After nearly ten years at the Healing Arts Center, I said goodbye to a space that held so many stories—healing sessions, sacred circles, laughter, and tears. Letting it go wasn’t easy. There was grief in the leaving, in closing a chapter that shaped so much of my journey.

And yet… life has a way of surprising us. My new space feels alive with possibility. The light pours in differently here, softer but steady, as if reminding me that beginnings can be both tender and strong. There’s a freshness in the air, a sense of renewal that I didn’t expect to feel so soon.

I’m still settling in—finding new rhythms, creating new rituals, allowing the energy to root itself. But I can already sense this place becoming a sanctuary, ready to hold the next chapter of my work and my life.

Grief and joy often walk side by side. In saying goodbye to one space, I’m discovering how good it can feel to say yes to the new.