Letters to Myself: Entry Seventy
A few years ago I made a small choice — to start reading consistently. What I didn't expect was how much it would change everything else. The wisdom, the hope, the patience it built — none of that was on the label. But it showed up anyway.
Letters to Myself: Entry Sixty-Nine
Rilke wrote that the more love you give, the more you possess. Viktor Frankl survived a holocaust holding onto that truth. And sometimes you can see it just as clearly in a long line at the State Fair — if you're paying attention.
Letters to Myself: Entry Sixty-Four
The world will always have darkness — that's not going away. But darkness has an opposite, and sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is choose lightness anyway. A smile, a laugh, a moment of grace — these things matter more than we give them credit for.
Letters to Myself: Entry Sixty-Three
Sometimes your heart knows something long before your mind is ready to hear it. The trick isn't ignoring that voice — it's learning to pause, listen, and let your mind catch up before you act. That balance might be one of the most important things we can practice.
Letters to Myself: Entry Twenty-One
Sometimes we hold onto painful memories because they remind us of what we’ve survived. In this reflection, I explore how our hardest moments can shape strength, perspective, and peace — and why remembering isn’t always a bad thing.
