Shift into Self Healing Thoughts

  I’ve been chewing on the word   sovereignty   like biting into a stalk of celery—fibrous, gritty, resistant. It’s the kind of word that lingers, stuck between your teeth. But what does it   really   mean to be free? What is agency, self-governance? What is emotional liberation? For too long,   sovereignty   has been tangled in political discourse. It’s time to reclaim it for ourselves. The hardest prison to escape is the one we build to feel safe. I know this because I designed mine—constructed the walls, employed the guards. But if you are beholden to someone or something, are you  ever  truly free? What holds you captive? For my sister, it was alcohol. For me, it was something more insidious: the craving for approval, the need to be needed. I hid pieces of myself to be accepted, shrinking into a mold for validation. Recently, as I dismantle the prison I built, I’ve been excavating the remnants of someone desperate for others’ acceptance. ...

  This past summer, my boys and I went tubing. As we climbed onto the inflatable, the boat’s owner, Matt, gave us one crucial piece of advice: " I’m going to go really fast, and when it gets to be too much, your instinct will be to hold on. But that’s when I need you to let go. Don’t fight it—just let go. " My nephew, Grant, turned to me, eyes wide. " This is not going to work for me," he said. "I am not going to be able to let go ." Matt, suddenly serious, looked at him and said, " Grant, if you don’t let go, you could get really hurt. I’ve seen guys dislocate their shoulders. Just let go ." The boys did great. They whipped around, held on tight—and didn’t let go. Not me. I lasted only a few minutes. There’s video evidence. It shows me being tossed from side to side before finally surrendering. The moment I let go, I’m airborne—terrified, flailing. And then, as I hit the water, you can see it on my face: relief. I swam back to the tube and climb...

I carried extra weight as a kid. This was the early ’80s—long before body positivity was a thing. I wasn’t obese but I wasn’t thin. At 10 years old, my parents got me a personal trainer. His name was Bob. Nice guy. I don’t remember much from that age, but I remember Bob’s face. I remember being told I needed to be healthier.   Maybe I had a slow metabolism. Lately, I’ve been thinking about the story I told myself around that. What does it really mean to be healthy? And what would have better served 10-year-old me? My parents were doing the best they could, and at 49, I’m grateful for a lifetime of movement. But the shame around my weight lingered for years. Ok, fine—it still sneaks up on me sometimes and lord knows I’ve held onto that metabolism story. It sort of fits. Healthy. Heal-thy. I wonder how things might have been different if, instead of a personal trainer, I’d had someone who was curious—someone who asked  why  I was eating my weight in cheese and sneaking cook...

I was listening to a podcast recently, and the host shared a metaphor about weathering life’s storms. They described it as being a rock in a tumultuous river—letting the twigs hit you, letting the water swirl around you, but staying steady. It captured me at first, you know I love a good metaphor. But then my next thought was… how boring. A rock? Being the victim in our life’s story, now that’s dramatic. There’s an allure to the chaos it brings—a sense of justification, even. Who doesn’t love a compelling arc in their narrative? It pulls you in, but ultimately, it spits you out. Living as the victim will never serve you. Sure, it feels right and just sometimes, but eventually, we all come to realize that even those who’ve hurt us were just doing the best they could—just as we are. This doesn’t diminish the reality of pain, trauma, or suffering. These are true, valid, and inevitable parts of life. The absolute power lies in what we do with them—how we transmute and transform our sufferi...

  We are not on a path to “becoming” but rather removing all the masks, layers, and roles that keep us from our truest essence - love. When we strip these away, thin veil by thin veil, what is revealed is often found in the whispers of our intuition. In those naked, quiet moments, we hear the call for something wise, something deeper. This longing isn’t for the external but for an awakening within—a return to wholeness. We chase success and security, only to realize it’s the intangible we truly crave: a sense of belonging and connection to ourselves and the natural world. The answers emerge in the seeking itself. Each step reveals the essence of who we are. As Dr. Tom Pinkson beautifully reminds us, “You are a sacred, worthy, luminous being. You are love, and your love is for giving.” It's not about acquiring skills or knowledge; it has nothing to do with doing and everything to do with being, it’s about reconnecting with our true selves. Intuition comes from a deep understanding o...

I was listening to a podcast recently, and the host shared a metaphor about weathering life’s storms. They described it as being a rock in a tumultuous river—letting the twigs hit you, letting the water swirl around you, but staying steady. It captured me at first,  you know I love a good metaphor. But then my next thought was… how boring. A rock? Being the victim in our life’s story, now that’s dramatic. There’s an allure to the chaos it brings—a sense of justification, even. Who doesn’t love a compelling arc in their narrative? It pulls you in, but ultimately, it spits you out. Living as the victim will never serve you. Sure, it feels right and just sometimes, but eventually, we all come to realize that even those who’ve hurt us were just doing the best they could—just as we are. This doesn’t diminish the reality of pain, trauma, or suffering. These are true, valid, and inevitable parts of life. But the absolute power lies in what we do with them—how we transmute and transform ou...

  My dad, having experienced profound trauma in his own childhood, unfortunately, directed some of that pain toward us. The apology he shared made me reflect on the concept of relationships as a cycle of reciprocity, rupture, and repair. Even Dr. Becky Kennedy's recent Ted Talk on repairing relationships with children resonated, highlighting that this crucial step applies to all our relationships. "The holidays, a beautiful time for togetherness, can also present both opportunities and challenges to put our hard healing work to the test." Recently, my dad sent an email to my siblings and me, offering a sincere apology for the times he took out his anger on us during our childhood. It opened up a flood of memories, reminding me of the challenging times we faced at home. My dad's journey through trauma has given him invaluable wisdom, emphasizing the significance of repair. His acknowledgment of the past, which we were previously discouraged from discussing, brought a o...