I’ve come to believe that my opportunity in life is to desire, to dream, to envision and build — to be unlimited. The Divine gathers all the pieces and assembles them for me with great joy.

Finding this freedom has been quite a journey. Never a straight line, it’s taken years of unearthing limitation and accepting my innate worth.

We absorb far more than we realize during childhood. Long before we have language for it, we are taking in what we see, what we hear, what is modeled in quiet moments and casual comments.

Though I’m admittedly skeptical about resolutions, I love the clean slate that arrives with a new year—the fresh intentions, invigorated curiosity, and openness to noticing new possibilities as they emerge.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the Year of the Horse we’ve entered—especially after discovering it’s also my birth year. And yes… I am very much a horse. I embrace the momentum, power, and forward motion she represents. But a friend also reminded me that even the strongest horse needs a wise jockey—one who knows when to rein her in so she doesn’t run herself to exhaustion.

There’s a difference between rest and renewal. Most of us are experts at the first, but it’s the second our hearts quietly crave.

Honest Heart Journeys has learned that the most powerful itineraries don’t just cross continents — they cross new thresholds and question assumptions within us. We travel not to escape life, but to return to a deeper truth: that we are whole, connected, and more spacious than the defined roles and routines we’ve been living inside. And in that remembering, something shifts. We begin to see ourselves with wonder again.

A butterfly cocoon carries a thousand stories.

Sue Monk Kidd’s midlife memoir When the Heart Waits offers just such a cocoon—one that holds insight, longing, and connection—on our Utah trip—Journey Into Grace. The butterfly’s transformation, the central metaphor of her spiritual unfolding, reminds us that beautiful things are born in darkness. From womb to tomb, light and life emerge.

Gratitude is the recognition of grace moving quietly through our lives.

It’s the awareness of Love—steady, devoted, unwavering—shaping what we cannot always see, protecting what we sometimes forget, guiding us with a tenderness that asks for nothing in return.

People cross our paths, circumstances rise and fall, and each becomes a teacher. Through them, Life lifts us into a deeper understanding of trust, surrender, and the subtle architecture of grace.

Gratitude has a way of softening the edges of worry and dissolving the weight of doubt. It wraps the heart in a spacious, reassuring embrace and whispers, You’re held. You’re guided. You’re not alone.

A wise friend recently shared an idea that I’ll paraphrase here: Life is like a spiral.

As we move around it again and again, we encounter familiar things — repeated challenges, lessons, habits, and relationships. And yet, we’re not truly repeating them. Each time we circle higher, our vantage point changes. We see farther, understand more, respond quicker, and adapt easier.

This past week, I’ve been processing a recent battle. I don’t share it as justification or explanation, but as grateful awareness —

My baby gets married in just a few days. It’s been almost a decade since he left for school, but somehow this is a new milestone. Just like that, all three of my children will belong to “their person” — that person with whom they build families, communities, and their chosen life. Weddings feel like this, too — a bittersweet release followed by the joy of watching them fly.

That Mama Bear tenacity is rising in me again. It’s been a while, but she is awakened. To be honest, it’s been a year of inner struggle. I know I’m not alone. And I know there are so many bigger concerns in the world than mine. I also know we experience the emotions and energy of what we believe. We create tumultuous inner worlds that grow if left unchecked. Life can come to feel like a war zone.

I’ve found that Trust is not a state I achieve once and hold forever. It’s a practice, a way of being. When fear rises in my heart—grieving the world’s confusion, questioning my ability or intentions, whispering scarcity and doubt — I pause. This is the invitation. Not to resist, but to remember: I am not the thought. I am the one who observes the thought. And from this place, I choose how to love it.

There’s nothing more expansive or soul-awakening than nature to rouse us from the slow lull of complacency that can so easily set in. Nature opens thought to new perspectives. It invites wonder back into our lives.

Confidence rises not through striving or polishing what was never broken, but through quiet release — the soft unhooking of vain ideals: human perfection, masked performance, success without soul.

I rest within a state of gratitude, embraced by light and fullness of being. I am whole, worthy, one with all that is naturally mine and me.

I find myself thinking about those of us who are feeling uncertain. This simple meditation on ‘abundance’ came to me as comfort this quiet Saturday morning. I see so many of us finding a renewed strength of consciousness to be the change, the peace, we want to see.