Once upon a December.

This year arrived like a teacher—unpredictable, relentless, and strangely generous.

It held both grief and grace.

I lost my father, and with him a version of myself I’ll never fully be again. I spent countless hours on the mat and in stillness, letting yoga, breath, and ritual hold me together when words couldn’t.

There were new friendships that felt like soul recognition.

A road trip across Montana that reminded me how wide the world still is.

Days teaching preschool—tiny hands, big feelings, sacred reminders of presence.

There was pain too: my dog getting hurt, the ache of moving, the unsteady ground of change.

I fell in love.

I let go of love.

I danced anyway.

I sang karaoke like no one was keeping score. I nourished myself with good food, explored new cities, and followed curiosity wherever it knocked.

This year stripped me down and built me back up—more rooted, more tender, more true.

As I look toward 2026, I’m not wishing for fireworks. I’m choosing calm. Spacious mornings. Deep breaths. Steady joy.

A life that feels aligned, intentional, and softly powerful.

Root & Ritual