What did I learn today? Lessons on the Journey to Unconditional Self Love

  It’s been twelve days since I last wrote. Twelve days of life life‑ing in its full, unfiltered way. Twelve days of feeling absolutely no motivation to put words anywhere — not on paper, not in my notes app, not even in the quiet corners of my mind. And yet… here I am again. In the in‑between, I found myself returning to my spiritual toolkit — the practices that hold me when my energy dips and my clarity scatters. The ones that remind me who I am beneath the noise, beneath the fatigue, beneath the stories my mind tries to run on repeat. One of those anchors has been The Abundance Process by John Randolph Price. A simple, steadying study. A mirror that keeps whispering, “Look again. Abundance is here. It has always been here.” It’s been a timely reminder, especially in this season of my life where certain things feel uncertain, stretched, or slow. The practice keeps nudging me back to truth: Focus on what is present, not what is missing.   Focus on what is flowing, not wh...

  May has arrived, and with it, an invitation: How will I show up in my power this month? Not the kind of power the world tries to sell us — the grasping, the controlling, the performing, the hierarchy of who is above and who is below. No. My power has never lived there. My power is inward. It is how I breathe, how I move, how I honour myself. For this month, I am choosing  integrity over image, alignment over approval, truth over noise. Real power, the kind I am committed to, is sometimes quiet. It liberates. It uplifts. It moves with love, not force. It doesn’t need to dominate anyone; it simply asks me to show up as who I truly am. This month, I am reminding myself that I don’t have to chase anything or anyone. I don’t have to run behind opportunities, validation, or timelines that were never mine. I don’t have to prove, perform, or pretend. My only work is to show up in remembrance of who I am. To live in integrity. To act from love. To do my best — and leave the rest in t...

  T here are seasons in life when you feel the ground shifting beneath your feet — not in a way that threatens you, but in a way that calls you. A quiet invitation to step into a new way of being. A new way of choosing. A new way of seeing yourself. Lately, I’ve been sitting with this idea of Creating a New Reality — not as a slogan, but as a lived practice. A discipline. A spiritual unfolding. As I prepare for my upcoming conversation with Emily  on Monday for her podcast Coming Home, I’ve been reflecting on the questions she’ll be exploring with me. Questions about intentional choices. About dignity and belonging. About the sacredness of process. Question s that have shaped not just my work, but my becoming. Here are a few of the thoughts that are on my mind: 1. The power of the pause I’ve learned that creating a new reality often begins with a single moment of stillness — that breath between the trigger and the response. That sacred space where truth becomes louder than fea...

There comes a moment — sometimes quiet, sometimes disruptive — when you realise that the life you are living is being shaped by beliefs you never consciously chose. Some of them you crafted from your own experiences. Some of them were handed to you — by parents, teachers, religion, culture, community, media, and the people you loved long before you had the language to question anything. And as Daniel Kahneman once said, “For some of our most important beliefs, we have no evidence at all, except that people we love and trust hold these beliefs.”   When you really sit with that, it shakes something loose. Because if that is true, then how many of the beliefs running your life were never really yours? The Autopilot We Call Survival Most of us don’t stop to examine our core beliefs because the system feels like it’s working. It has kept us alive. It has kept us functioning. It has kept us from too many surprises. So the mind says: Don’t touch this. Don’t question this. Don’t chang...

  There are answers in the stillness. There are questions too. When I sit with myself — truly sit — everything arrives. The self‑awareness, the boredom, the thoughts that loop, the stories that rise like old film reels, the flashbacks that tug at memory, the self‑talk that can be both balm and battle. Stillness is not empty. Stillness is a mirror. And I’ve come to believe that spending time with Self is a kind of worship. A returning. A communion with the Most High. Because in the stillness, the Divine speaks. Sometimes in my own voice. Sometimes in the trees swaying their quiet wisdom. Sometimes in the waves that refuse to stop showing up. Sometimes in the rivers that remember how to move even when the path is unclear. Sometimes in the birds who sing without asking permission. And sometimes — unexpectedly, tenderly — in the voices of my ancestors. My grandmother. My grandfather. Their guidance arriving like a soft breeze across the chest. Anything that nudges me out of comfort, an...

There comes a moment — sometimes quiet, sometimes loud — when your spirit whispers, “Come home.” Home not as a place, but as a way of being. Home as breath. Home as truth. Home as the version of you that existed before the world told you who to be. For many of us, that whisper gets buried under responsibility, expectations, and the endless hum of busyness. We move through our days on autopilot, doing everything for everyone, while the parts of us that need tending go untouched. But the body remembers. The soul remembers. And eventually, the whisper becomes a call. This is the heart of Rooted: A Journey Back to Self — a four‑part online experience for women who are ready to slow down, listen inward, and reconnect with the truth beneath the noise. It’s not a course. It’s not a webinar. It’s a return. A return to clarity. A return to courage. A return to the rhythm your life has been asking for. Over four sessions, we explore what it means to live from the inside out: Session One: Rooted ...