Friends!

The first thing I notice is the quality of the air. Even as I climb out of the car, close the door, and reach for my key to lock it up, I am breathing in the cool, fresh air like medicine. The temperature feels cooler than at the coast, although it’s windy there. Humans are outnumbered in the forest, and I feel like the ratio of trees to mammals is such that there’s more oxygen in the mix. My lungs feel it immediately. It’s morning and early enough that the silence is here, too. The cool air and the vibrant quiet combine to give my brain a little caress. I experience a feeling of welcome, of belonging. Moving through the parking lot and onto the dirt path covered with pine needles, I barely notice the border of fallen branches and stones. My gaze wants to stay focused on Up. These majestic redwoods stretch to the clouds, dwarfing the few of us meandering in the grove. The bird song comes and goes, silence broken by a cacophony of excited news moving through the overstory. My eyes drink in the majesty of these 2,000-year-old trees.

Aliveness, the gift of right now, here. 

As I shed 2025, a year of vast transformation for me, I imagine sailing away from a decade fraught with miserable self-doubt, many months striving to be someone that others valued and needed. I lost too much clarity of who I needed myself to be. I imagine burying the doubt and hurts of the last decade deep into the earth, composting the past into this loamy earth. My heart is full of many blessings. I have immense gratitude for the work accomplished, the love received and given. I moved into professional independence, formed new and meaningful connections with people near and far, but most of all, I discovered the superpower of my “No”. 

The trees stand here listening to my pulse, watching me find the spot where I will rest among them. 

In my life, the yeses have twinkled and shone for me; I have wrapped my arms around a thousand yeses and felt them hug me back. I have seen places and faces, tasted the wild mysteries of food, of shelter, of thrilling laughter I never knew I needed until I found myself holding my stomach for the muscles strained from my giddiness. Saying yes to myself has been my lifelong occupation. But some of us must strive to find our yes. We need to dig down into the belly of our desire and name the yeses we long for. 

How do you welcome Yes into your life? What sweet little yes needs your attention? How can I help you say yes to your dream? 

Sign up for coaching with me here. 

We also know the bitter disappointment of yeses that turn to nos. The way a fresh piece of fruit gets moldy, and before you can bite into the juicy sweetness, it becomes heavy with bruises, pungent with decay. I am working on disappointment, that prickly realization that shows me my need more clearly. How to be hurt and still be kind? How to be angry and still have grace?

Saying yes has not been the Big Learning of the year for me. The unlikely hero of 2025 for me has been No. Not the scarcity of telling myself a story, but the no that comes through in order to clear a path. The no that shows up with its arms full of gifts, and I am propelled forward so as to lighten their load. 

The great No of 2025 has grace and dignity, centers loving kindness, maybe a little playful snark on a day such as this.  A big, gorgeous No whose work is to make space for Yes. As I ground down into the nest of my No, I attract people and situations where no is welcome, clear, honored. It’s magical. A club where love comes with boundaries. 

Where do you need more No in your life? How are you finding support for your Nos? How can I help you make more space for your Yes? 

Sign up for coaching with me here. 

Lying on 14 inches of pine needles, breathing in the cool, dry air, staring up at the tree branches, and sinking into the soft, pliable earth, I feel some tears of gratitude slip into my ears. I watch the sky for an occasional hawk. I wonder at the majesty of this grove. Somewhere, someone said No to the Target or the condominium, so that these trees would continue to be. A No that made way for a Yes. 

As I find my No, I decide it’s so, and I claim my place among the redwoods. 

Poem of the Month

Perhaps the World Ends Here

By Joy Harjo