re-entering the room
Sunset in Salvador, Bahia
Lately, the world feels loud in a way that rattles the nervous system. War declared. State violence normalized. People killed and violated under the guise of order and protection. It’s a lot to metabolize, and I don’t believe we’re meant to move through moments like this untouched. I feel like I’ve been in this loop of gathering my pieces to move forward, only to be shaken up by the latest updates and headlines. All the while the guilt of shoulds and coulds have been keeping me from truly feeling grounded. There’s a difference in my mind between being informed and being consumed. A difference between witnessing harm and letting it fracture our wholeness.
For me, this season has been an ongoing practice of resisting the urge to respond to chaos with urgency. I notice how quickly I want to make a plan, set goals, build something solid, anything that promises control. The pace. The grief. The pressure to “get back to it” or “do something” that fits in with what’s been expected of me are bringing the chaos inside. When I slow down for long enough to listen, my body keeps asking for something else: steadiness.
I’ve said a million times my sabbatical is over. In reality, there’s a small but important truth missing from that headline: I don’t want it to be over. Not because I don’t want to work. Not because I’m avoiding responsibility. But because this season of listening, softening, and unlearning urgency has changed me. And I’m no longer interested in returning to grind as proof of seriousness or value.
What I am interested in is work that honors the body, the spirit, and the long arc of becoming. That means walking in the wilderness of transformation with my friends, peers, and community. My heart and mind are open to partnering and being in community in the midst of chaos and uncertainty.
If you’re ready to keep moving through your own season of change, let’s walk together.

