Everyone’s soul has a timeline.

A time when we are ready to know the truth about what this journey has cost us. And who we had to become to get through it.

Not an intellectual knowing.  Not the laundry list of the things we have suffered that we recite to our therapist each week while remaining safely removed from what it would mean to actually be with the reality of it all.

I mean, really know.

Jesus once said;

“Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”

You don't always realize how far life has carried you from yourself until you begin the process of coming back—especially when the leaving begins in childhood.

My journey back to myself started with an unsettling realization of how far away I actually was. It was like sitting somewhere on a bench absorbed in your book thinking you are alone, and then when you look up, you realize there is actually someone sitting next to you.  When did they sit down? How long have they been there?  How did I not notice?  Except the person beside me was me.

I wouldn’t change a thing.

There’s a kind of truth that comes with getting older that isn’t always spoken about.

At 66, I can see my life so much more clearly—including the parts I wish I could have done differently.

And I hold that alongside this other truth—

I would have had to be someone else to do it differently; someone who had not been born into a family of generations of unhealed, passed-down trauma.

Friday night was powerful.

11 souls filled the floor… after we got started, each one slowly moving into their own experience, on the way to their own journey inward… guided simply by their breath and their willingness to let go. Trusting the infinite wisdom of their body to release what they were never meant to carry.