We’re not looking for answers…not really.

We’re looking for the truest parts of ourselves that we left behind.

After speaking, facilitating, and guiding people through workshops, trainings, and retreats over 2000 times, I’ve come to realize that no matter the setting—no matter the topic, the depth, or the form, there’s always one thing I’m ultimately making space for and inviting. I’ve started calling it—the moment.

It doesn’t arrive on demand. But when it comes, you know it.

I’m reminded of a brilliant quote I heard long ago about enlightenment, which is so close to my sentiments for “the moment” that I wanted to share it with you.

It goes:

Enlightenment is an accident.
You can’t make it happen…
But, you can become accident-prone.

And perhaps that’s what my work is, at its most essential.

It is the work of creating spaces and experiences where what is truly possible in life, what is most beautiful about life, can happen more often.

In this “moment,” someone’s shoulders may drop after years of carrying the weight of the world.

Their breath comes all the way in, maybe for the first time in decades.

Their old story finally loosens its grip.

In this moment I’m speaking to, the habits of coping and protection are rightfully replaced by presence, authenticity, and agency.

Sometimes it’s quiet, just a subtle shift, a softening, a pause where the air feels different.

Sometimes it arrives like a wave…tears, laughter, trembling, awe.

And sometimes it’s collective—the whole room breathing together, the whole room remembering together.

I recently came back from a six-day retreat in Northern California called Coming Home to Love. It was one of the most beautiful, cohesive, and profoundly safe containers I’ve ever been a part of.

And it was full of these moments.

Over and over, I heard people say:

“I’ve never felt this safe before.”

“I didn’t know it was possible to feel so at home in my body.”

What they were touching wasn’t just relief. It wasn’t just healing. It was meaning.

It was possibility.

But here’s what so much of the industry of human potential missed and what this moment, when it is authentic, reveals.

Every. Single. Time.

The thing we’ve been searching for isn’t “out there.”

It isn’t found in a practice, a method, a plant medicine, a therapist, or a teacher.

It’s already there.

We are the source.

It is you, being what you most naturally are.

You know, the one who effortlessly laughed, played, and loved before the loss and grief of life convinced you otherwise.

That’s what I get to watch happen over and over again in the work that I do.

People realizing that the love they’ve been longing for, the safety they’ve been chasing, the transformation they’ve been craving wasn’t going to come from anyone or anything else.

It was in them all along.

And when they let themselves see that.

When they deeply feel that, everything changes, without anything needing to be different.

This may seem a contradiction, but it’s not.

It’s not because it includes a shift of context.

We’re so used to identifying ourselves and our lives by the content. The “stuff” of life.

When we discover that we are more like a conscious space within which our life takes place, an ever-present space of possibility and agency, everything is free to change.

Knowing we are the container for life instead of its contents allows us to be the source of change instead of just being subject to it.

And when we do, all the self-created suffering and limiting beliefs fall away.

We finally have room to shift.

Our relationships can shift.

Our world can shift.

I’ve seen this happen on stages, in church basements, conference halls, school gymnasiums, corporate boardrooms, shelters, festivals, and living rooms.

Countless times, in thousands of faces. And every time, I’m in awe of it. And I’m reminded:

There is no arrival.

There is only remembering.

It is a homecoming.

And, I’m sure, you’ve felt it too.

That shiver of aliveness, that sudden clarity, that deep knowing that there’s more to life than surviving.

We are not just a conglomeration of atoms bouncing around.

We are life itself.

Maybe it came during a piece of music that cracked your heart open. Maybe in a conversation that changed everything. Maybe in the stillness when no words were needed at all.

This is what keeps me showing up. Year after year. Room after room. Breath after breath.

Because when we find that place in ourselves, when we stop waiting for someone else to deliver us back to who we are, everything changes.

The moment we touch that truth, even for a second, something irreversible happens. We see that healing is possible. We see that love is possible. We see that we are possible.

And once you’ve felt it, you can’t unfeel it.

That’s why I keep creating spaces for this—retreats, trainings, conversations, and containers where we get to remember together. Because I believe these moments matter.

They ripple outward. And they change the world one life, one heart, one breath, one moment at a time.

So if you’ve been longing to come home to yourself…if you’ve felt the faint pull of something truer and more alive…I want to invite you to stay close. To stay connected. To keep leaning in.

Because the moment you’re searching for?

It may be closer than you think.

~