What’s Being Released

...and What’s Beginning Again

Over the weekend, I let go of something I had been tending for many years.

I released my general mailing list.

I know how that sounds. You’re supposed to grow your list, not dissolve it. But mine had become too big. Too scattered. I couldn’t feel a real connection to it anymore.

I no longer knew who I was speaking to. I couldn’t remember how I had met most of the people on it, through what season, what offering, what part of myself.

For twenty years, I’ve been walking alongside others. I’ve spent a long time aiming myself toward different versions of service. People from my storefront. From the podcast. From Tarot readings, green burial work, grief circles, directee sessions, mediumship, retreats and programs.

Each connection mattered. But together, they no longer pointed toward one life.

They felt like fragments.

Trying to write something to my mailing list felt like standing in a field of felled arrows.

Some flew straight. Some didn’t.

They were all part of the process. Each one marked a shot in my own Becoming.

But I see now, what I was really trying to find was my correct stance.

So I’m gathering the arrows. Placing them back in the quiver.

…and Re-aiming.

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This is part of the rhythm of things. Spiritual Direction has taught me this.

There are seasons to build. Seasons to rest. Seasons to ask gentle questions about where we are, and what we’re still holding:

Who am I now?
What is God asking of me today?
What becomes possible when I stop trying to hold everything?

"Before you tell your life what you intend to do with it, listen for what it intends to do with you." —Parker J. Palmer

For much of my life, I shifted shape depending on who I was serving. In Unitarian Universalist congregations, I led through spiritual formation. But I kept back my own esoteric language. Mysticism made Humanists uneasy.

When I opened my storefront (a spiritual boutique in my conservative rural township) I offered beauty, creativity, and inspiration. Never “woo”. That wouldn’t work. I avoided anything that might seem too strange.

Later, while working in green burial, I represented the cemetery. I walked with families through loss. But what they didn’t know was that I had been listening to their dead for years. Of course, I never said so. It wasn’t the place.

Each of these seasons formed me. Each brought me closer to fulfilling my unique divine calling in the world. I have always been reaching toward something whole.

I just didn’t always know how to hold my own voice yet.

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Then grief came.

I didn’t begin writing on Substack with a plan. One morning I woke up and the only thing I could do was write what was breaking my heart. The loss I was living. The weight I was carrying. The sharp knowing that gender ideology was harming not just our culture, but my family.

The writing began as survival. A place to say what needed to be said.

And people came.

Quietly, they gathered around.

That ache was the most honest thing I had ever written.

Everything else, Instagram, polished emails, the persona I had built, suddenly felt disconnected from the life I was actually living. Grief brought me to the ground of my own soul.

And in that space, something became clear: the people I serve don’t need to hold my story. But I do. I need to be whole when I sit with them. Whether the story is spoken or silent, it’s part of my presence.

That’s why I did what I did. I released them all with one simple invitation to join me here, at Substack, in my own wholeness.

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I’ve created something quieter now. A new beginning.

I know deep in my bones that I’m here to hold space, for my own alignment, and for others’, so that each of us can live from the soul’s quiet direction.

This is the shape that’s emerging for me. What I call The Path to Wholeness. It holds my work and my witness.

‘The Path to Wholeness’ brings together Spiritual Direction, Intuitive Guidance, Dream Work, and symbolic language. It lets me live and serve without fragmentation.

So, this is the season I’m in now. And I’m glad you’re joining me in it.

I’m still gathering the arrows. I’m still checking my stance.

and I’m still listening.

There isn’t much I’ve carried forward from Unitarian Universalism in terms of theology (albeit a minimal theology at best). But one line from the hymnal has stayed with me:

We begin again in love.

That’s the posture I’m in.

The Hebrew word most often translated as sin is chataʼ. The Greek is hamartia. Both come from archery. They mean you missed the mark. You aimed for something, and the arrow landed elsewhere.

That’s all. No shame.

Just the truth of trying.

I’ve spent years aiming at different targets. Each offering, each version of my work, each shift in voice, these were sincere attempts at alignment. Some flew straighter than others. But none were wasted.

Now, I’m gathering the arrows. Placing them back in the quiver. Checking my stance. Re-aiming with attention.

I’m walking in the direction of soul.
One arrow placed gently back in the quiver.

I begin again in love.