It was Sunday afternoon, and I still hadn’t started writing my Mindful Monday for today.  Nothing was inspiring me.

I love this time of year. The air feels fresh, the energy softer, calmer. 

I recently returned from Sedona, Arizona, where my sister Deb and I had the honor of co-hosting a women’s retreat.

As you read this week’s message, I will be in Sedona, Arizona, hosting a women’s retreat with nine incredible women.

This summer, I had the honour of holding my friend Deirdre's newborn grandson in my arms. His name is Irie, which means joy and happiness.

As I sit down to write this week’s message, I’m preparing to participate in an eight-day retreat.

September has arrived, and with it, a noticeable shift in energy. For many people I’ve spoken with, September feels more like the start of a new year than January.

The words “there is nothing to fix” have been echoing in me lately, and I’d like to share why.

Last week, I had the most beautiful, enlightening conversation with Annie, my sister Deb’s fifteen-year-old granddaughter.

I’ve been sitting with the question of what to write this week, and what keeps coming up is this: Stay with it.

I know I said I’d be taking a break from Mindful Monday in August…but I just can’t help myself—when inspiration flows, I feel compelled to share.

Just recently, I took a drive to my friend’s cottage, about four and a half hours away. I loved being on the road. Ontario is so beautiful in the summer.

A few weeks ago, I shared one of my favourite childhood memories: our annual summer trips to Prince Edward Island to visit my grandparents and a large extended family.

There are many teachers and spiritual guides who offer wisdom on how to be present, how to return to peace.

One of the many things I appreciate about summer is the abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables from the local farmers around us.

Right now, many of us are experiencing the intensity of change—both in the world and within ourselves. Structures are crumbling, truths are surfacing, and the ground beneath our feet can feel anything but steady.

One of the most profound gifts of this inner journey is realizing that I’ve truly become my own best friend. I genuinely appreciate who I am, and I love spending time with myself.

This time of year, there is an aliveness in the air that brings the feeling of fresh and unlimited possibilities.

I write about what’s alive in my heart in the moment—and this past week, I’ve been reflecting on a retreat I recently hosted and all that unfolded there.