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?

It’s been nearly fifteen years since I last sat across from my dear friend. The last time we were together, we were both in hard places, tired, stretched thin, carrying more than we could say out loud. Our conversations were heavy, honest, tear‑stained. It was a difficult moment to part, and for a long time I wondered if that was simply where the story would end. But this week, nearly fifteen years older, with more life lived and survived, we found our way back to each other. We acknowledged the hard years, yes, but more importantly, we remembered the joy. We caught each other up on the chapters we’d missed. We shared a meal. I met the older sister I had only ever known by name. He met my husband. We talked about the world, about family, about the strange and beautiful ways life keeps moving. And somehow, time felt irrelevant. We picked up exactly where we left off, as if the thread between us had never frayed. Before we parted, we made plans for the next meeting. This time in India, at his home, where we’ll celebrate our friendship again and tell the stories that have unfolded since this reunion. I know I’ll carry the anticipation with me, just as I did all those years ago. And if life allows, his sisters and my husband will be there too, and we’ll gather as we once did, older, softer, grateful. Friendship has a way of reminding us that some connections don’t disappear; they simply wait for us to return. If you’re holding a story of reconnection, of longing, of someone who remains woven into your life even across distance, I’d love to hear what’s stirring for you today.

Seems every one is out of pocket for today so we will plan to not meet for book club today. Enjoy your Saturday!

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?