Last Sunday, under the darkness of a new moon and on the eve of the autumn equinox, a group of us gathered to honour a sacred pause, that liminal space between seasons, between moon cycles, between what has been and what is becoming.

Together, we moved through intentional breath and movement. We set an intention. We released what no longer served us through the alchemy of fire, smoke, and ash. Though the act was private, it was witnessed. Though deeply personal, it was held in community.

I left that gathering feeling clear, grounded, and energized.

After six months of stepping away from teaching, from learning, from holding space for others, I am returning. Gently. Slowly. In rhythm with the turning season.

As the Fall Equinox arrives, I find myself reflecting on its quiet wisdom. This is the moment when light and dark are equal. A brief pause in the tilt of the earth, a sacred balance point between expansion and contraction, between doing and being. Nature reminds us there is power in stillness, and wisdom in transition.

The world feels like it is unraveling, like loose stitches in a seam that has needed attention for a while but has been ignored for far too long. I am constantly searching for ways to best respond to these times with well-thought-out action. It is an ongoing process.

When life comes at me as it has this past week, I am calmed by the knowledge that I know where I can work out my stuff in private and then decide what action needs to happen from a place of clarity and calm.

I took the challenging circumstances to my journal, and on both occasions, within minutes of writing, clear responses to these situations became abundantly apparent.

I wish I could go back and tell my 20-something self to focus on progress, not perfection. Each time I quit and started back up, I learned something about the harmful habit I had fallen into at age 13. I only saw starting again after quitting as a pure failure. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

If you know me even a little, you will likely have seen my “BFF,” my beloved art journal, who travels with me everywhere I go. This book is my lifeline. It has seen me through the best of times and the hardest of times.

I use it in many ways: to clear the clutter when my emotions sweep me off my feet, to help me show up in the best possible way when life circumstances or a relationship are not going as I want or need them to. It reveals limiting beliefs, keeping me small and unhelpful patterns that are unconscious until they are made visible on the page.

When the quiet of January descends and the busyness of December subsides, I brew tea and pull out my journals and day-timer from 2024. I get cozy whenever I can and begin my year in review.

On Sunday I found myself at a Farmer’s Market where I purchased some raspberries, my favourite berries by a long shot.

They are my faves because they have the magical ability to transport me back to a perfect summer day in my childhood. I was with my cousin, Shelley, who was more like my sister as we were only four months apart in age. We were having a sleepover at my house which we did a lot back in the day. People often confused us for sisters which we loved and most of the time we did not bother to correct them. That morning we awoke very early as we usually did, well before the adults. We loved this time of the morning because we could do what we wanted without adult interference.

This past weekend I opened my home, garden, and growing dome to the Denman Island Home and Garden Tour. We hosted 731 visitors over two days through our indoor and outdoor living spaces to give them a peek at Gulf Island living. It was wonderful and busy and ane the feeling in the air was festive. The proceeds of this event go to the Denman Island Conservancy, a great cause.

Whenever I experience synchronicities I pay attention. I have been a part of several conversations very recently around the many tools folks have in their toolbox for wellness and that it can be hard and sometimes overwhelming getting to them all. What to do if the daily breath work practice gets missed or if we choose not to go to the gym even when we know how damn good it makes our body feel, or what if we don’t engage in our dancing or journal practice everyday?

I pulled that abandoned quilt out and had a second look. That little voice stated the obvious: I had left this quilt halfway... I had walked away in frustration and defeat because of the perception of it not meeting some kind of perfectionist standards for quilting. My uneven stitches and squares, imperfectly sewn together, had resulted in a quilt that embarrassed me. So it was banished to the back of a closet never to see the light of day again… until it was time to move houses.