Hi Reader,

My neighbor's tree right out my office window has gorgeous purple blooms right now that the migrating Monarch butterflies can't get enough of. It's been cool but so nice. And now today, it's 51 degrees (feels like 45 according to the weather app) and leaves are blowing off their branches against the bright blue sky.

It reminds me that it’s the season of both letting go and holding on.

This time of year used to make me anxious. I’d look back and wonder if I’d done enough, grown enough, achieved enough, because OMG the year is running out! But grace has a funny way of shifting the story.

Grace says:

You did more than you think.​
​You don’t have to earn rest.​
​Even the quiet seasons are sacred.

We live in a culture that glorifies endless blooming, but nature reminds us that every garden needs time to go fallow. The soil has to rest before it can nourish new life again. You’re no different.

So instead of rushing to finish strong, what if you softened into the wisdom of the season?

Take a breath.
Thank the version of you who showed up, even imperfectly.
Acknowledge the growth that wasn’t visible but was deeply real.

Because growth isn’t always the shiny kind you can measure.
Sometimes it’s the courage to rest.
Sometimes it’s the moment you didn’t spiral.
Sometimes it’s choosing gentleness when you used to choose judgment.

This week, I invite you to write yourself a short letter, not a to-do list, but a thank-you note. We're about to be in gratitude season and it's hard to navigate gratitude when the world is on fire.

So let's start small. Thank yourself for all the ways you kept going (and continue to keep going). For what you learned. For who you’ve become.

You’ve tended your own garden beautifully this year, and now, it’s time to let the earth breathe.

I hope you have a wonderful Halloween and Samhain.

Love you!