Death keeps showing up in life’s later chapters. What if it isn’t the end? Thousands of people who’ve actually died describe leaving their bodies and finding something waiting. Maybe we don’t need to be so scared.
Good memories from your twenties. That worn toolbox that still works. Dreams you’re building. Stuff you just haven’t dealt with yet. What are you holding onto and why?
“Shut up. Suit up. Show up.” The slogan on my fridge reminds me to keep functioning and stay focused. But this blog exists because honest talking matters too.
How do you actually balance dealing with challenges and getting on with life?
Not necessarily what you’d buy for yourself—but whose life would you change if you could? The people we’d help financially reveal something about gratitude, love, and what really matters to us.
I can teach a class with confidence but put me at a drinking party and I’m internally counting the minutes until I can leave. The split between professional ease and social awkwardness that might not make sense to others.
Last week, walking past a shop window, I glimpsed someone I didn’t immediately recognize—gray-haired, lined, slightly stooped. It took a second to realize I was looking at myself. That stranger looked older than the person I see each morning.
Welcome back to our “All About You” series. Today’s focus: What daily practice genuinely changed your life? Not the Instagram-worthy routines or productivity guru recommendations. The real stuff. That one thing you started doing that actually stuck and helped you…
This morning, after working hard on the farm, I came home feeling completely balanced. Physically tired but mentally clear, ready to blog without restlessness. It got me thinking: we often know what helps us feel centered, but how often do we actually protect those things?
Is your comfort actually avoidance? I thought I was serving well in Japan, but a growing spiritual tension is forcing me to ask: When does easy service become a selfish way to dodge a harder, truer calling?
I’ve been studying Japanese for 505 consecutive days without feeling passionate about it. Turns out, competence builds its own momentum—passion isn’t required before you start.