I was waiting for an earthquake. It never came.
September 2026
I was standing in my kitchen with a cup of coffee going cold in my hand, looking around the room like a woman doing an inventory. I had just come back from a healing experience that had gone deeper than anything I'd done before — the kind of deep inner work that unearths things you didn't know were still buried. It had been profound.
So I stood there and waited for my life to catch up.
I didn't even know what I was waiting for. I just thought the tectonic plates had shifted, and surely the ground had to crack somewhere. I kept checking. For weeks, honestly, walking into rooms slightly braced, scanning conversations, waiting to catch the moment where everything looked different.
Nothing looked different.
I got frustrated, in the specific way you get frustrated when you've done everything right and the results don't arrive. Where was the earthquake?
There was one thing though. And it made no sense.
I had an idea for my business that I had been building for more than a year. It was sound. It was logical. It sat inside everything I knew how to do, and the business plan I'd built around it said a big yes. But now I would sit down to work on it and feel absolutely nothing. No joy. No passion. No inspiration.
That was the whole yield of my great transformation: one perfectly good business plan that had gone quiet on me. I didn't know what to do with that. So I put it aside, thinking I'd take a break and get back to it at some point.
It never occurred to me that this was the thing. The only change I could actually name, and I filed it as a delay because it was happening inside me while I was watching the outside.
That's what I couldn't see then. Every day, scanning my calendar, my relationships, my work, waiting for the evidence to show up somewhere I could point at it. The change had already happened. It was inward, and it was quiet enough that I walked past it every single day on my way to look for something bigger.
It shifted when I stopped trying. I gave up hunting for proof, and things got quieter. In that quiet I could finally feel what had been true for weeks. There was something moving in me, and it had been tugging the whole time. It wasn't a decision I made. It was a pull I finally stopped talking over.
I followed it. The idea took shape, then it took me and carried me forward with a momentum I wasn't generating. That's how this work was born. Not from a plan. From letting something come through that had been waiting for me to be quiet enough to notice it.
Months later, I started noticing. Nothing looked different, even then. Everything felt different. The people around me felt different to me, and they began telling me they felt different around me. My job flowed differently, and I hadn't changed anything I was doing in it. Underneath all of it, a calm I had never had before and hadn't thought to look for, because I was busy scanning for something dramatic.
Nothing in me was overthrown. No part of me lost so another one could win. It just rearranged itself, patiently, while I stood in my kitchen waiting for the ground to crack.