Hi My Love,

I know it’s been a while since I last wrote. I have been in the middle of a re-brand and an upgrade—which has come after a long period of intense hibernation. I will share all of it with you as I continue to come out of my shell. In fact, for the longest time I have felt like a hermit crab in between shells. So soft, mushy, fragile, sensitive, and vulnerable. But, as Life has Her way of doing, She has—in Her beautiful Divine Timing—finally helped me land in my new larger shell. And as I adjust, I feel called to reach out to you. Because I have sorely missed you. 

Last week, I found five rusty pieces of metal sitting near my front door.
They had been arranged carefully, like the petals of a flower.
I had no idea what they were.
At first I thought they might be horseshoes. Then bells. Candle holders, perhaps? A talisman? 
For whatever reason, as soon as I discovered them I felt love and protection.

I had just had my front yard landscaped. The tall grasses that had been there for years were dug out, roots and all, and I imagined that maybe these strange little pieces of metal were buried beneath them.
Someone found them.
And instead of throwing them away, he carried them to my front door and arranged them there.

I don’t know why, but they make me so very happy. Because I am sure they were put there with love.

They are rusted and weathered and completely useless, as far as I can tell.

And they are beautiful.

I stood looking at them this morning and thought about how funny it is that I am creating a newsletter called The Remembering.

Because this is exactly what remembering looks like.

Not becoming something new.
Not fixing ourselves or improving ourselves or searching endlessly for the person we are “supposed” to be.
It is simply uncovering what has been there all along.

Something gets buried.
Life grows over it.
Years pass.
We forget.
And then one day, something comes along and starts digging.

A heartbreak.
A loss.
An ending.
An adventure.
A person who loves us.
A person who doesn’t.

Something that disrupts the landscape enough to expose what has been hidden underneath.

And there we are.
Still there.
Maybe a little weathered.
Maybe no longer recognizable as the thing we once thought we were supposed to be.
But somehow more beautiful for everything we’ve lived through.

I still don’t know what my five rusty pieces of metal are.
I don’t know how long they were buried beneath my yard or what they were before they ended up here, by my front door.

But someone pulled them from the earth and saw something worth saving.
Then placed them together in the shape of a flower. As an offering.

And maybe that is the reminder I needed today:

We are not lost.
We are not confused.
We are not off-track, damaged, or falling behind. 

We are remembering.

I will be back in touch soon.

Until then, in a world that the media portrays as confusing, scary, and dark, but is actually being flooded with more Light than we can imagine . . . 

Remember who you were before the world told you who to be.
Live your truth, no matter how off-putting it can be to those who prefer you play by their rules.
Share your light, even among those who prefer to live in shadow. 

So much LOVE,