If you’re reading this, and you care to read this, you’re someone who wants to look deeply at life. Who wants to live and show up as your true self more and more in your world. Who has an inkling that there’s more to you than the patterns that tend to surface in your day-to-day life. You’re curious about exploring your deeper self.
Actually, no, not just curious. It’s an imperative for you somehow. You feel drawn to that exploration as a deep calling.
I’ve been wanting to write to you for so long, to find you and connect with you. To walk this journey alongside you. To explore together, to learn together, to share with you the insights I’ve had, and to listen and learn from you in turn.
Because this journey is deep. Sacred. And sacred journeys deserve to be witnessed and seen, honored and celebrated. I want to celebrate with you, as our journeys unfold together. To marvel at the glimpses, or the huge uncoverings, of truth that you and I each discover along the way. To pause together and receive those moments that take our breath away in their beauty and simplicity and complexity, like a startlingly radiant flower on a trail, fresh, miraculous, fleeting, covered in dewdrops and surrounded by magic.
And yet, I haven’t written to you. I’ve been, at best, waiting, wanting, yearning. But more often, I’ve been avoiding, doubting, analyzing, judging, filtering away my bursts of spontaneous insight and my desire to share them with you, because I felt unfinished, unpresentable. And because I felt like what I had to offer wasn’t enough, somehow.
My son Kendrick is about to turn 2 this Sunday, so I dedicate this story to him.