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I Met A Duck in the Street

Last week, I left the house a little earlier than usual.

Not because the day ahead was spacious. Quite the opposite. It was full. Appointments, responsibilities, errands to run, bags still to pack for my upcoming conference. One of those days where the hours already seem spoken for before they even begin.

And yet, before leaving, I found myself lingering in the garden.

The overgrown bushes had finally been removed, opening up an entire section of the bed I hadn’t really seen clearly in years. New flowers and shrubs had recently been planted, and I stood there for a few moments appreciating the fresh openness of it all. The morning light and the possibility of adding a few colorful blossoms. The beauty of something being tended and made new.

Then I glanced at the clock. My appointment was in fifteen minutes, and I had fourteen minutes to get there. So I got moving.

As I rounded the final curve on my street, I suddenly noticed a small mallard duck standing directly in the middle of the road.

Not hurrying. Not startled. Just standing there as though the morning belonged entirely to him.

I pulled alongside him and lowered the window. “Buddy,” I said aloud, “this is probably not the safest place to be.”

His green head shimmered in the sunlight, absolutely beautiful. He looked directly at me and quacked back as though we were genuinely having a conversation. Then, instead of moving away, he took a few small steps closer to the car and lifted his head.

No urgency. No concern.

No indication whatsoever that he intended to leave his chosen spot in the curve.

I remember laughing softly to myself as I realized I was not, in fact, in charge of this duck’s life.

 

So after a short, delightful conversation about the nature of life, I slowly drove on with a quiet little prayer that he would stay safe and that the drivers behind me would be paying attention in the early morning light.

Then, just as I checked my rearview mirror, I saw another duck fly low across the street behind me.

And there he went. He lifted gracefully into the air and followed her. He wasn’t stranded in the road at all. He was simply waiting for his gal.

By the time I reached the main road, something inside me had softened.

The fountains in the pond shimmered beside the street. The sky was a brilliant blue. The morning felt unexpectedly alive and intimate somehow, as though Life had quietly reached out and tapped me on the shoulder before the fullness of the day began.

Nothing dramatic happened.

Just a few moments of direct contact with a living world that is constantly speaking, responding, moving, relating. And somehow, it was exactly what I needed.

A reminder that life is not only schedules and tasks and moving efficiently from one obligation to the next.

It is also beauty. Pausing in stillness and appreciation. Being in relationship. Enjoying small unexpected encounters. Belonging.

It is the recognition that the world cares well for itself without my intervention.

And the beneficial pleasure of realizing this when I am willing to slow down enough to notice.

Just a note …. no mallard ducks were harmed in the encounter nor in the use of AI who conveniently recreated the scene for your imaginal pleasure. 

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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Via Sophia Retreat in Costa Rica

There comes a moment when something within you begins to shift.

Not because life is failing. Not because you have done something wrong.
But because what once felt meaningful no longer feels like enough.

Many women arrive at this threshold quietly. Others experience it more viscerally, through exhaustion, change, loss, longing, or the growing realization that the life they have carefully built no longer fully reflects who they are becoming.

You may already feel this happening within you now.

After years of showing up for others. Holding responsibilities, meeting expectations, and managing relationships. Decades of navigating constant stimulation, information, urgency, and demand. All the while trying to remain in step with the pressure toward constant self-improvement and personal achievement.

Yet somewhere beneath all of that, there is often a longing that is more difficult to name.

A longing for beauty, spaciousness, and freedom to flow with your own inner rhythm. A desire for genuine connection and depth without pressure to conform. A search for a way of living that feels more natural, embodied, and true.

Certainly not another system to master or demonstration of continued healing and evolution. Rather, some wiser inner invitation to return to something essential.

Via Sophia, the Way of Feminine Wisdom, emerged from this recognition.

Via Sophia is a path of embodied wisdom inviting you into a lived relationship with the Mystical Feminine. This way does not offer a specific idea or belief system.

It invites the recognition of a living intelligence encountered through experience, relationship, reflection, nature, rhythm, and the unfolding of your own life.

The Via Sophia Costa Rica Immersion was created as an immersive environment intentionally designed to support a different way of being.

 

Nestled in the lush mountains above the Pacific Ocean, Via Sophia finds a home in a private retreat sanctuary built in harmony with the natural world.

Jungle pathways, open air gathering spaces, waterfalls, tropical gardens, ocean views, and the steady rhythm of the land itself become part of the experience.

Mornings unfold slowly here.

Moments spent after waking upon a balcony overlooking the trees. Listening to the birdsong echoing through the jungle canopy. Warm air with a hint of the sea moving through open windows. Conversations lingering after shared meals in the platform dining area.

Each day brings teaching and reflection upon the Feminine Path of Wisdom. Simple practices and meaningful dialogue. Movement and stillness with space for inner listening and exploration.

You’ll experience the gift of spaciousness.

Time to rest. Time to breathe. Time to reconnect with yourself outside the pace and pressures of ordinary life. So you may naturally integrate what is arising within you and through the group.

In the rhythm of nature, in the presence of other women, and within a grounded and living field of shared experience, something begins to open.

Nothing is forced. You are not asked to adopt a belief, ideology, or spiritual framework. What wants to be known by you is simply revealed. Touching your interior, awakening your own wisdom.

And from this place, a different way of being begins to unfold.

A quieter relationship with yourself. A deeper trust in your own inner knowing. A more intimate participation with Life itself.

Each evening gathering offers space for what has been discovered throughout the day to be more deeply seen, felt, and embodied. As the moon rises and the jungle changes its song, you will move closer within your own lived expression of this path. Deepening within wisdom that arrives often by surprise. 



Seeing clearly, loving compassionately, and laughing gently at the simplicity of living in alignment with life.

Via Sophia offers you an opportunity to inhabit your life with wisdom, gentleness, and spaciousness. Practically. Mystically. Beautifully.



October 16–24, 2026. Uvita, Costa Rica.

If you feel the call to join us, you will be welcomed warmly.  Please take a look as rooms are already booking.

All details and images of our private retreat space may be found on the Via Sophia Costa Rica Retreat page.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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An Accidental Meeting, A Hand Held

A few months ago, when the world was cold and the snow came often, I left for work a little earlier than usual.

The roads had already been plowed, but I knew better than to assume they were clear. That kind of winter morning holds a particular deception. The pavement looks clean, almost dry, while a thin layer of ice waits invisibly beneath.

I was mostly alone on the road.

The sun was out, bright and generous, reflecting across the white snow under a clear blue sky. Everything looked fresh. New. There was a crispness in the air that matched the sharp cold of the morning, and I found myself enjoying the quiet beauty of it all.

As I approached a slight curve leading to a stop sign, I heard something simple and unmistakable inside me.

Stop here.

I was still more than a car length away from the intersection. There was no one behind me. No reason, really, to pause that early. But I did. I brought the car to a stop and sat there, curious, waiting without knowing why.

A moment later, I saw a car coming from the left.

It appeared around the curve moving a little too fast for the conditions. That caught my attention. I watched.

What followed unfolded as if time slowed down.

The car began to slide. Back and forth, a loss of traction that the driver could not quite correct. It went up onto the curb, dropped back down, and came to a sudden stop directly in front of me.

Had I been at the stop sign, it would have been a very different moment. But I was not.

There was no car behind me. No pressure. Just a calm body and space to witness what had happened.

Two young men sat in an older car. I could see the driver’s body tense, his breath caught somewhere between fear and disbelief. They spoke quickly to one another. Then he jumped out of the car, ran to the front, checking for damage. He circled to the back, then looked toward me.

His whole body spoke before his words did.
He was shaken.

He raised his hands, his face tight with worry, and mouthed, I am so sorry. Then he turned, looking again at the curb he had hit, back at his car, and back at me. The distress was real, immediate.

I rolled down my window and motioned him over.

He came quickly, apologizing again, his voice unsteady. He was close to crying. His friend had gotten out as well, moving toward the front of the car, checking the wheels.

“Give me your hand,” I said. 
He did. He held on tightly.

“I lost control of the car,” he said. “I was so scared. Oh my God… what if I had hit you?”

I smiled, not to dismiss him, but to meet him where he was. “Take a breath,” I said. “You’re okay. I’m okay. We’re both okay.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, still holding my hand, the cold air moving through the open window. I began to breathe with him, quietly, without instruction beyond presence.

I could feel his body begin to settle.

Then his eyes opened wide again. “I didn’t realize I was going that fast. I hit ice.” “Yes,” I said gently. “That happens. These roads can be tricky. They look clear, and they’re not.”

There was no need to make him wrong. The moment had already taught him everything it needed to.


“This is something you learn from experience,” I continued. “I learned it myself the same way you did. And now you’ve learned it.”

He took a deeper breath.

“It’s okay not to know,” I said. “And then to learn something new. You’re okay.” Something in him softened. “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.”

“You would have figured it out,” I told him. “But here’s what you can do now.”

I pointed just beyond the intersection. “Pull into that first driveway. Park. Get out with your friend and take a good look at the car. Maybe drive it slowly in the parking lot, see how it feels. And sit there for a few minutes. Don’t leave until you feel calm again. Then you can continue, carefully, now that you know.”

He nodded. “Okay. I will.”
Again, “I’m so sorry.”

“We’re okay,” I said.

He let go of my hand, returned to his car, spoke to his friend, and slowly turned into the driveway on the right. I continued on my way to work.

At the next red light, I found myself sitting in the same sunlight, watching it reflect off the snow, feeling something quiet and steady inside.

Gratitude.

Not for avoiding an accident, though that was certainly there. But for the exchange itself.

He had come toward me, even in his fear, to make sure I was alright. I had reached toward him, meeting his distress without judgment. There was a simple, mutual care in that moment. Nothing elevated. Nothing complicated.

Just two humans, pausing long enough to recognize one another.

What steadied him was not only the breath, or the calming of his body. It was the absence of blame. The normalization that this happens. That we learn. That we adjust.

There was nothing to defend against, nothing to hide from. And in that, something repaired itself almost immediately.

We met, briefly, in a place where no one was wrong.

There are countless moments like this in a day, though most are far less dramatic. Small openings where we might pause. Where we might soften. Where we might reach out a hand, or receive one.

Instead, we often move past one another, quickly, efficiently, as if nothing meaningful lives in those in-between spaces.

But it does.

Those small exchanges carry weight. They linger. They shape how we meet the next moment, and the next person.

Even now, when I come to that same stop sign, I sometimes think of him. I imagine him driving more carefully, yes. But more than that, I imagine him moving through his life with the same instinct he showed that morning. To turn toward, rather than away. To care, even when shaken. To hold a hand and breathe together.

Not that he must pay it forward.

Simply because, for a brief moment on a cold winter morning, those actions revealed his nature. And it was lovely.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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Every Brilliant Thing I Noticed

Some days don’t announce themselves as anything more than what they are.

My husband and I celebrated our wedding anniversary last weekend with a trip to New York City to see Every Brilliant Thing with Daniel Radcliffe.

On the way up, settling into the lower level of the train, I noticed the view. Train tracks, trash, and graffiti on concrete walls. I realized I’d prefer the upper car with a view of the landscape and the brilliant blue sky. This prompted a move at the same time the train gained its own momentum. Swaying down the aisle, in sync with the speeding train, we dropped into a row where I claimed the window seat.

Only to notice that the glass was blurred and no view was available.

Without distraction, our hushed conversation was relaxed. Along the way, I noticed the woman eating her lunch, two people quietly speaking behind me, a woman reading How Proust Can Change Your Life, and the way the light moved across the seats.

There was nothing remarkable about that journey. And yet, it was not nothing.

Arriving in the city, the wind caught my ears in that intense, almost surprising way it does between buildings. Cold, immediate, alive. I didn’t rush past it. I noticed it. And again, blocks later, when the cold turned sharp within my ears.

New York City is not my favorite place. To me, it’s loud, fast, dirty, and a bit abrasive to my system.

I wasn’t concerned with navigating the terrain as I followed my husband’s lead. Leaving me relaxed and free to notice the architecture, traffic, souvenirs, and food trucks lining our path. I saw the street artists, cautious venders of knockoff purses, bike couriers with their food orders, and the unhoused hoping for assistance.

The city felt different this time. Not better or worse, just available, there for the noticing.

We spent a few relaxed moments in Times Square. Out of the way of the crowds and costumed characters angling for a photo opportunity and a donation.

I looked up at the billboards, Broadway show marquees, news feeds, and advertisements. Color, movement, creativity, pleasure, and ambition stacked on top of itself.

We spoke about shows we’ve seen, memories we’ve shared, and new stage stories that looked interesting.

Without the need to plan or make a decision, I enjoyed taking it in as part of the landscape I was moving through. There was a kind of ease in not needing the moment to become anything else. And a sigh of pleasure when dropping into the perfect table in a quiet, warm restaurant. 



A break from stimulation. A nourishment of the body. An opportunity for more enjoyable conversation. 



Followed by a relaxed stroll to the theatre and quiet time waiting in the short line for entry. Settling inside the theater, my sense of delight and awareness broadened and deepened. Without effort, I was inhabiting a new experience.

Every Brilliant Thing is simple in its structure and expansive in its reach.

A single performer on a small stage telling the story of his life with a mother with depression. A list revealed.

Ordinary things that, somehow, hold the weight of living and perhaps, hopefully, invite some realization of the good of it all. Participation from some of the audience and a fair amount of improv all around.

In the center of the back row, I had a birds eye view of the orchestration that was unfolding.
I watched Daniel enthusiastically greet people as they claimed their seats. Offering them an opportunity for participation in this unique show. Handing over an index card with their lines, sometimes elaborating upon what was asked of them.

In real time, I noticed collaboration with the actor, director, and audience members as this specific performance was being set up … for whatever was to unfold.

Not so different from my experience on the swaying train or the bustling city, I was meeting something alive, relational, and in motion.


I could feel the moment when the room was set.

The people were seated. Index cards had landed. The actor and director gazed out from the stage, gave a synchronized nod, shook hands, and the show continued.

It didn’t feel like the beginning, although officially it was. It felt more like a continuation of the day I had already been inside of.

I was enraptured from the first utterance through the last bow. The story itself was brilliant. True. Deep. Joyful. Sorrowful. Real.

And there was room for the entire audience to meet this real experience easily, without effort. At times with laughter at the wit, improv, and generally funny ways humans move through life. In moments that landed through the entire body, like a soft recognition passing through. A slight tightening. A warmth. A pause. A tear. A deep, resettling breath.

The return to laughter, delight, and spontaneous appreciation of the way an audience member showed up. Put on the spot. With Daniel Radcliffe. Imperfectly perfect in that moment.

At times, I felt the stillness of the crowd as if we had been paused in flight. A shared breath held. The joy of movement returning with a well timed laugh. I sensed a current moving through the group, the shared acknowledgment of the depths and heights of human experience, and a recognition of ourselves in a single story.

The truth of it moving through the room in different ways for different people. Without any need to interpret or analyze, it landed. Touched the room. And took flight once again.

There is something about being in a space where life is being reflected back, not as an idea, but as a lived texture.

Small things. Ice cream. A song. A moment of connection. A heartbreak. An unexpected action. The kinds of things that don’t ask for your attention, and yet hold everything.

Throughout this full day, I wasn’t thinking about being present. I was just not somewhere else. And that feels important to say.

Because this rich experience didn’t come from effort. It didn’t come from reminding myself to stay in the moment. It was more like the absence of leaving.

After the show, the city received me again. The same streets. The same movement. And still, that quiet thread of being inside of it continued.

The train ride home was softer. A short nap offered a small kindness to the body after the motion and the movement of the day.

There is a way of living where the meaningful moments are the obvious ones. The show. The peak. The thing you went for.

And there is another way that has been quietly revealing itself.

Where the walking there matters. Where the cold air matters. Where the looking up at a billboard for a show you may never see matters. Where the way your body sits in a chair, or breathes in a room, or softens into a moment is not separate from the experience, but the experience itself.

The events of the day may look ordinary from the outside, yet from the inside, it felt full. Not full in a way that needs to be held onto. Just full in the sense that nothing was missing from it while it was happening.

I am noticing more and more that this is less about creating a certain kind of life, and more about inhabiting the one that is already here. Not perfectly. And certainly not with effort.

To notice not only the moments that move through the day, but where I am standing as they do.

Living inside the life that is unfolding, however ordinary or brilliant it may appear on the outside.

Recognizing that, like that swaying train, crowded city, and engaged audience, life is already unmistakably alive, responsive, and coherent.

Ripe for the noticing.

 

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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Reflections In A Venetian Window

You arrive in Venice the way you always arrive in places that have lived longer than memory can hold. 

Not just by plane or train, but by stepping into a rhythm already in motion.

The Duomo rises before you, not asking for attention, but receiving it anyway. Gold mosaics catch the light in a way that feels almost intentional, as if the building itself knows how to speak to the human longing for beauty. You stand there, looking up, letting your eyes follow stories set into stone and glass. There is devotion here, layered over centuries. Hands that built, restored, and protected. A quiet insistence that something sacred matters.

In the main square, the blue clock turns its ancient face toward you. 

Time, but not the kind you check on your phone. This one carries a story. Figures emerge, disappear, reappear. You watch, not because you need to know the hour, but because something in you recognizes continuity. The kind that outlives urgency.

The tide has pushed into the square and you step through the water at its edge. 

Shoes in hand, coolness around your ankles. People laugh, hesitate, complain, adapt. It is all happening at once. Venice does not pause for inconvenience. It absorbs it.

Later, in a narrow alley, you sit outside and eat what you are certain is the best pizza of your life. The kind that requires no commentary. Simple, perfect, immediate. The table is small. The air is close. Voices move around you in languages you do not need to understand.

You wander.

The streets curve and narrow, then open unexpectedly. Every turn offers something. A small shop filled with glass. A doorway framed in flowers. A bridge where someone pauses just long enough to take a photograph and then disappears into the flow again.

You notice the people.

Waiters moving quickly, carrying plates with practiced ease. Some warm, some indifferent, and some clearly tired. Shopkeepers who greet you with a smile or barely look up. 

There is no uniform mood here. Just life, in all its expressions. 

You can feel the weight of history beneath it, not as something romanticized, but as something lived. A place that has known beauty and strain, wealth and hardship, continuity and change.

And then, without planning it, you stop.
A window.

At first, it is simply a display. White masks, dozens of them, layered and suspended in different shapes and expressions. Some delicate. Some exaggerated. Some almost unsettling. The glass reflects the street behind you, so for a moment, everything overlaps. Faces without bodies. Movement behind stillness.

You step closer.

Masks have always belonged here. Not as decoration, but as function.


In another time, they offered anonymity. Freedom. Protection.

A way to move through society without being fully seen. To speak, to act, or to participate without consequence. They held power. They allowed expression that might otherwise be constrained. They served a purpose.

You stand there, looking at them, and for a brief moment, you see your own reflection layered into the display.

And something in you recognizes something. Not as a dramatic revelation that demands attention. Just a quiet noticing of the masks you have worn.

Not the literal kind, but the ones that form over time. The ways you learned to move through the world. To be accepted. To stay safe. To navigate expectations. To belong, or at least to avoid exclusion.

Some of them were subtle. A tone of voice. A way of agreeing. A way of not saying something. Some of them were more defined. Roles you stepped into. Identities that shaped how others met you, and how you met yourself.

None of them were random. They formed in response to something real. A moment, a relationship, or an environment. Each one carried intelligence. Each one served you.

You can see that now.

Standing in front of that window, in a city that has made an art form out of masks, you are not inclined to judge them. Not yours. Not anyone’s.

There is a kind of beauty in them. Although, you notice that you are no longer reaching for them. Nor have you forced them away. Not because you have decided they are wrong. Simply because, in this moment, they are not needed.

You stand there, unmasked, and realize nothing is missing.

No performance is required. No adjustment is necessary. No role to step into. Just presence.

The street continues behind you. People pass. Conversations unfold. Life moves without interruption. The masks remain in the window, as they should. Honored for what they have been. Available for those who still need them.

So you move on without fanfare. Walking, just as you are now, through a city that has seen everything.

And in this moment, that is more than enough.

 

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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The Moment You Begin Living Differently

There comes a moment, sometimes quietly, when you realize you don’t want to keep postponing your life.



Not in a dramatic way, nor as a declaration, but as a simple, honest recognition that what you are living now matters. You begin to sense an invitation, not to fix yourself or become someone else, but to turn toward your life as it is and meet it more fully.

This is where the path of Via Sophia, the Way of Feminine Wisdom, begins. Perhaps it whispers, or perhaps the invitation is felt strongly within you.

Somewhere within, there emerges the knowing that you don’t need to wait to begin living well.

From that recognition, something softens. You begin to notice where you turn away, where you brace, where you hold parts of yourself outside your relationships. Imagine being shown how you could gently, without force, begin to allow more of your experience to be here. The grief, the tenderness, the uncertainty, the quiet knowing.

Not as something to solve, but as something to include. Because it is in this inclusion that the field of your life begins to reorganize.

Imagine realizing that nothing in you needs to be exiled for your life to come into coherence.

Exploring this through direct experience within a supportive circle, you find yourself arriving more fully. Not performing, not managing, not presenting a version of yourself that feels more acceptable, but simply present to the moments of your everyday life.

You begin to bring your whole self into your relationships, your choices, and your inner life.

And in doing so, something unexpected happens. Life becomes more direct. More intimate. More real.


Walking the Sophia Spiral, you begin to sense that wholeness is not something you achieve. Rather, it is something already present that you stop leaving.

This changes so much. Here, in the midst of it all, you discover a place of rest. Not outside your life, but within it. Even as things move, even as emotions rise and fall, there is something in you that can remain steady, present, and responsive.

This is not detachment. It is a deeper form of participation within life.

Now, you are no longer trying to control your experience, but learning to move with it. You discover that there is a way to be with life that is both fully engaged and deeply at ease.

Over time, the need to have everything figured out begins to loosen. You become more comfortable not knowing, more open to what is emerging, more willing to live inside the mystery rather than solve it. You begin to trust your capacity to meet what comes, rather than needing to predict or manage it.

And from here, life begins to feel less like something you are trying to navigate, and more like something you are in relationship with.

Life is no longer a problem to solve. It is a living experience to meet.

This way of intimate living changes everything. Not just for you, but for the relationships you are part of, the families you are woven into, and the lineage patterns you are both shaped by and shaping in return.

When you live present, responsive, and in right relationship with yourself and life, you interrupt cycles of disconnection. You contribute to something more coherent, more humane, more alive. This is not small work. It is foundational.

Imagine meeting your life just as it is showing up for you. Without trying to transcend it, you discover you can experience a way of living that feels natural and quietly freeing.

During the Via Sophia Immersion, you’ll explore the Feminine Spiral of Unfolding, with phases that align with the natural rhythm of life. These phases help you recognize where you are within your own unfolding, so you can participate more consciously and wisely in what is already emerging.

This Way of Wisdom includes the rich resources of the 13 Mystical Mothers, each offering a unique field of Feminine Intelligence that supports your understanding of and alignment with the Spiral. All exploration naturally places you at the center of your own life while strengthening your capacity to inhabit it more fully.

Walking the Spiral of Via Sophia invites you into a more intimate way of being with your life. You live in rhythm with life as it unfolds.


You feel yourself as belonging to a vast living intelligence.
You have the capacity to turn toward, not away, from your experience.
You don’t abandon yourself while caring for others.
You are able to stay present, open, and responsive.
You move with life instead of against it.

Entering Via Sophia, the Way of Feminine Wisdom, invites you into a way of living that is receptive, available, participatory, relational, and embodied.

This is practical mysticism.

Imagine joining an intimate Circle of 13 women who are called to explore a skillful, embodied, and natural way of being in rhythm with this extraordinary experience of everyday living.

Two places remain in the Via Sophia Circle beginning March 31st. If you feel a call to explore, please reach out for a conversation. All details may be found on the Via Sophia course page.

 

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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Distracted? Airport Personnel Weigh In

I enjoy airports. Most likely because they signal that a travel adventure is about to begin.

My family followed the “arrive two hours early” rule for every flight, and I’m still a fan. It allows me to relax and enjoy the airport phase of the travel experience. I’m not worried about security lines, overpriced water, or what boarding group I’m in. Although, truth be told, those days of being upgraded to first class have left a subtle longing for wider seats and fewer people.

I recently breezed through security and settled at my gate in a small Florida airport.

I had ninety minutes before boarding, so I pulled out my laptop, AirPods, and playlist. My belongings comfortably beside me, I settled into my project with Ludovico Einaudi playing at just the right volume. Loud enough to drown out most conversations around me, while still allowing the flight announcements to filter through.

I began noticing the voice patterns of the many announcements being made. Cheerful gate agents, no-nonsense gate agents, and a variety of pleasant voices making neutral announcements about people leaving their stuff behind.

And by stuff, I mean important stuff.

You might be surprised by the things people leave behind at the airport.

a hard shell brown carry-on suitcase
a phone left at security
a phone left on the plane
a stuffed animal (ouch!)
a carry-on left on the plane
a string of red licorice
(just checking your attention here)
yet another phone
Mr. “Smith,” please come to the information desk to pick up the “personal item” you left behind
another personal ID
one small blue sneaker (another ouch)
a backpack left at security
a white and yellow sweater waiting at the information desk

You get the idea, and that was just a short snippet of time while I was only partially paying attention to the frequent airport announcements.

Still, it made me wonder.

What narrows attention so much that really important personal items get left behind?

Travel offers the perfect storm for distraction.

There is rushing, overstimulation, unfamiliar environments, constant announcements, and the subtle background stress of schedules, security lines, and gate changes. The mind narrows its focus to the next task, and everything else drops outside the frame.

Of course, this isn’t limited to airports.

You may have left your credit card at a store, your sweater at the salon, or your sunglasses on a restaurant table. I once left my purse hanging on the back of my chair in the pizzeria at the mall. It goes without saying that my friends laughed among themselves as they tracked my head bobbing through the crowd while I raced back to retrieve it. I can still recall the startled expression on a woman’s face as I appeared, slightly breathless, pointing to my purse.

So no judgment here.

But if you are distracted or overwhelmed enough to leave your purse, your ID, your phone, or your child’s shoe behind (okay, that one probably slipped off a foot in a stroller), it might be time to slow down.

This applies whether you are commuting in the air, by car, on foot, or simply traveling between floors in your own home.

Before you rush off to the next place, or the next task, pause for a moment.
Take a breath.
Look around.
Check in with where you are.
Notice what you’re doing next.

Sometimes the smallest pause is all it takes to gather yourself, your attention, and hopefully all of your belongings before moving on.

Distracted? Of course you are in this day and age.

Yet you are also quite capable of using simple moments of awareness to protect your precious documents, your peace of mind, and perhaps even that favorite yellow and white sweater.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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Entering the Living Architecture of Wisdom

I remember walking into Westminster Cathedral in London, looking up, and being struck still by the vast beauty and scale of the architecture.

People milled around me, some even bumping into me, yet my face remained turned heavenward. I could not move. Eventually I noticed my body returning to its normal sense of size, as if I had taken a journey within that vastness without realizing it.

Wiping the tears flowing down my face, I smiled at my patient husband and we began our exploration.

Centuries of builders, artists, worshippers, and people from every walk of life had moved through that grand architecture. Many were buried within its walls. Others left artistic impressions and stories of their living legacy for me to witness.

Cathedrals have a way of right-sizing you.

You feel both vast and small at the same time.

This experience requires no belief or prescribed faith. It is a visceral sensory perception of wonder and belonging.

The Field of Feminine Intelligence, while vast and full, is not abstract. It too has architecture that can be sensed, related to, and lived within.

Via Sophia, the Way of Wisdom, unfolds within the architecture of this Field of Feminine Intelligence.

Without rigid structures or spiritual rules, you encounter living forms that appear as pattern, rhythm, and relationship. As you enter a relaxed and coherent state where perception softens, many women begin to notice that Life itself has shape. Movements repeat. Thresholds appear. Cycles of emergence and retreat unfold naturally.

When you begin to sense this architecture, you realize your life is not random.

You begin to see that you are already participating in phases and movements shaping your experience. In Via Sophia, the Feminine Spiral of Unfolding reveals these rhythms as they move through every area of your life.

Rather than a ladder of spiritual ascent, Via Sophia offers a spiral of lived participation.

This spiral reflects how life continually unfolds through phases such as softening, differentiation, expansion, coherence, release, integration, and renewed embodiment. These are not spiritual concepts to achieve, but expressions of the natural intelligence already organizing your life.

Discovering this rhythm and aligning with it brings a deep relaxation to the subtle undercurrent of striving many women quietly carry.

Within this architecture exists another circle-spiral of 13 Mystical Mothers.

Each Mystical Mother illuminates a distinct quality of embodied wisdom. They serve as relational doorways into Temple or Garden environments where particular aspects of Feminine Intelligence become easier to recognize and engage.

One temple may invite compassion.
Another awakens sovereignty.
Another reveals creativity, wildness, humor, or fierce love.

Walking the Way of Wisdom, Via Sophia, invites encounters that are lived experiences within a relational field rather than abstract teachings or distant figures.

The Wheel of Mystical Mothers offers orientation. The Feminine Spiral of Unfolding reveals movement.

Together they help you recognize where you are within the rhythms of your life and how to engage the moment with greater care and understanding.

Over time, something surprising becomes clear.

The architecture within the Field of Feminine Intelligence was never outside of you. It has always been alive within your own field of being.

Temples, gardens, thresholds, and bridges appear as perceptual environments through which intelligence becomes recognizable. They are not rigid structures, but relational spaces that arise as needed.

Just as a map can orient a traveler, these structures help you navigate experience.

The recorded journeys in the class archive provide easy access for exploration and navigation. Yet the terrain itself is always lived directly, and you remain the center of every architecture that appears to support your unfolding.

Via Sophia gently shifts your orientation from managing life to participating with it. From explaining reality to encountering it. From spiritual effort to Living Sacred.

I have explored the Via Sophia architecture intimately over many years, and I am often struck still and right-sized by the vastness and deeply human relational quality of each encounter.

While I still love entering grand cathedrals from time to time, I now recognize the same beauty and wonder within the living architecture of the Feminine Field of Intelligence present in everyday life.

The Via Sophia 16-Week Immersion begins March 31, and three spaces remain in the Circle of 13 women.

Early Circle pricing ends Sunday, March 15.

If something in you resonates with this invitation to walk the Way of Wisdom with me, you can explore the full details here.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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A Horse Bumped My Heart

I’ve always had a distant relationship with horses.

I once rode the pony a friend cared for at a local barn when I was a pre-teen. I’ve done a few trail rides, including what felt like a few death-defying adventures in the Colorado Rockies. I even calmly steered my horse back onto the trail after she reared and raced down a small forest hill.

It was a natural instinct. After all, I’ve watched enough television to witness experienced equestrians deftly managing rearing horses.

Beyond admiring the beauty of horses, especially those running free, I’ve never had any interest in spending time with them. I admired my friends who cared for horses, offered equine-assisted therapy, and even rode into their forest wedding ceremony on their horses with a miniature “flower horse.”

When friends at Liberty Stables in Florida invited me to visit with their three horses, I was eager to witness their new project, which has brought much joy to their lives. Visiting the horses was part of my interest, but mostly it was my relationship with the humans that warmed my heart.

My ambivalence lifted with my first surprising meeting with Zor, a gorgeous Friesian horse who stands between 17 and 18 hands tall.

On a snowy day in New Jersey, I took a break in my comfy chair. Closing my eyes, I noticed the replay of a short “movie” I’d seen of Zor dancing with his previous trainer. He was magnificent, and the fluid interaction between horse and human was like a ballet that moved me deeply.

Suddenly, I saw Zor’s face in my inner sight appear directly in front of me. We were almost nose to nose.

As soon as I indicated a ‘hello and welcome,’ my chest warmed, my heart blew open, and the image disappeared. I stayed within that delicious experience for a while, now intrigued to meet Zor in person.

The first day at the barn, we were going to greet the horses and spend time with them in the paddocks. Liberty training offers the horse freedom in space and interaction with humans.

With four paddocks to choose from, the herd of three horses and three humans would spend time in territory together.

Entering the paddock with some trepidation, I was struck by how Zor towered over the other two horses. I was fully anticipating watching them graze from afar, so was surprised when Zor came directly toward me. I put my closed fist up for a possible greeting, like a fist bump to his nose, as instructed.

Almost immediately, Zor lowered his head and bumped his nose hard against my heart, pushing me back a step.

Contact established, power demonstrated, and heart connection activated, he wandered away to another paddock.

I, in the meantime, took a few moments to both welcome the greeting and calm my nervous system, which had activated with that push.

The afternoon was spent lazily relaxing in a chair beneath the shade of a tree. 



Eyes closed, perception widened, I listened to the breeze in the trees, the bird song, and the sounds of the horses grazing. At times, a horse would come to stand behind us, presencing the harmony felt within the natural world and our bodies.

I felt like I took a nap without sleeping.

I enjoyed watching my daughter and friend brush the horses, always keeping my respectful distance. I squatted before the smallest horse as he ate his hay and had a lovely exchange through both spoken language and inner awareness. All in all, it was a lovely day.

Two days later, I woke up with genuine excitement as I couldn’t wait to spend time with Zor. I was surprised by feelings of strong affection and even a bit of inner longing.

Upon arrival, I was immediately greeted by one of the smaller horses. Again, a nose-to-heart bump, followed by a lovely exchange.

Once these niceties were complete, I made a beeline for Zor. I noticed my delight and respect. Even as I was careful of my position given his size, the intimidation of the previous day was gone.

As I dry brushed his coat, chatting with him, I was struck by the intimate, relational nature of the encounter.

Here was this enormous animal, power incarnate, demonstrating the same comfort with me as I was feeling with him.

Once brushed, Zor walked away to roll around on the ground before returning to me for yet another brushing session.

Laughter, care, and increasing familiarity left me conversing with Zor on multiple levels. Chatting aloud with him and others around us often seemed to narrate the quiet exchange we were having beneath the surface.

When an afternoon snack of hay was delivered, he received my offer of energy healing.  Instinctively, we worked together. It was quiet, clear, and intimate.

Later that evening, I saw some photos my friends had taken of us during this healing exchange.

It struck me fully then what I had experienced but had not fully realized at the time. After a lifetime of indifference or intimidation around horses, I was completely at ease and confident in my interactions with Zor. Beyond comfort was a full-body sense of delight within the beautiful “territory.”

I realized then that this wasn’t about skill development or even courage in the face of a really huge horse.

It was coherence.

Horses respond to the state you are presenting. When the heart, breath, and nervous system settle into rhythm, the body becomes steady. Nature is naturally coherent, and horses, finely attuned to the natural field, recognize coherence.

When you arrive in the ‘field’ or ‘territory’  open, present, and steady, you naturally enter deeper states of coherence.

Beyond your own nervous system relaxation and expanded perception is the dance between other coherent systems: birds, horses, pasture, breeze.

Upon reflection, I recognized there was a mutual reading of one another’s state of being that allowed trust to arise. The connection with Zor revealed itself between us in the relational space enhanced within coherence. Trust was established rapidly, and a relationship formed.

My last moments with Zor were outside of his stall after he enjoyed his snack of watery green nutrition.

I had a hard time saying goodbye. He tried time and time again to give me that hard nose bump to my heart. Given his dripping green snout, we settled for ear scratching.



Coherence exists naturally. When you relax enough to meet life within it, you begin to notice the quiet harmony already unfolding all around and within you.

You don’t need to hang out with horses to discover the way in to coherence. Time in nature is often an easy way to explore harmony within and without. If you’d like to learn more about heart coherence and a simple technique to support you, feel free to enjoy my free resource The Self Soothe Strategy. 

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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Via Sophia. Modern Woman. Ancient Path.

I have been reading a series of novels set in the late nineteenth century that portray the social structures women were expected to live within. 



Hardships were often hidden behind social niceties, beautiful homes, fashionable clothing, and the polite manner considered fitting for a lady of society. A woman’s ability to enjoy simple pleasures such as reading freely, choosing her friendships, or expressing her opinions was often restricted by her husband. Abuse was tolerated, and the risk of being sent to an asylum for “hysteria” was real if a woman challenged the status quo or stood in the way of an affair. 



If they were fortunate, women in those times found ways to connect with one another, offer support, and quietly explore meaning beneath the surface of their lives. 



Some women even learned how to play the social game skillfully. They fulfilled the expectations placed upon them while privately recognizing the petty absurdities woven into many of the rituals of polite society. 



The modern woman may no longer face the threat of institutionalization for her independence or passionate expression, yet every era carries its own challenges. 



I see how much many of you are navigating so many challenges at once. Family, work, relationships, and a wide range of responsibilities often overlap.
When you are raising children, managing a household, preparing teenagers for college, and supporting aging parents, it is easy to feel stretched thin and quietly undernourished.

Perhaps you recognize this feeling yourself. The sense that life is full and meaningful, yet something within you is asking for more depth, more space, or a quieter kind of wisdom.

Current culture asks a great deal of you. Performance, efficiency, and constant self-improvement are often held up as measures of success. These expectations are not only exhausting. They can slowly erode self-trust and create confusion about how to live in alignment with your own inner knowing. 



Beneath this pressure, another message quietly circulates. 



If you cannot manage it all gracefully, perhaps something is wrong with you. If you are still searching for meaning, perhaps you should try harder, optimize more, or elevate yourself spiritually.

Yet beneath the noise and speed of modern life, something older continues to move.

Steady and persistent. It does not hurry. It does not compete. It simply waits to be noticed.

Via Sophia, the Way of Wisdom, explores this natural rhythm through what I call the Feminine Spiral of Unfolding.

This 16 week Immersion will not ask you to fix yourself or become someone new. Rather, the Spiral Path invites a slowing down and a widening of perception.

Through reflection, conversation, and guided experience, you begin to recognize this unfolding rhythm where it already lives in the body, in the Earth, and in the quiet lineage of women who came before you.

The Feminine Spiral of Unfolding reveals patterns that have always been present in women’s lives. A movement of softening, enduring, choosing, releasing, and beginning again.

Via Sophia does not remove you from contemporary life. It strengthens your capacity to inhabit your life more deeply and more steadily.

As awareness grows, you begin to recognize the phases of this spiral within your own experience and within the wider feminine lineage that has always carried this wisdom.

When you live with awareness of this ancient rhythm while remaining fully present in modern life, something changes. Feminine wisdom begins to guide you quietly from within.

If this reflection resonates with you, you are warmly invited to explore the Via Sophia journey.

A small circle of women will gather for sixteen weeks to walk this Spiral Path together, discovering the wisdom that unfolds when you learn to listen more deeply to Life itself. 



A few places remain in this upcoming Circle of 13. We begin March 31st. You are welcome.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions.