Many people who know me are aware of how sacred my mornings living in Santa Cruz were to my well being. I stopped setting my alarm and would naturally rise with the sun, roll out of bed and walk to the ocean. I’d watch the sunrise, or relish in the afterglow, or often that relishing was amidst a dense fog.

Nonetheless, every time I would explore the daily treasures washed ashore. Each time, I felt the universe was sending me a message. 

With the iridescent chunks of abalone: a reminder that the power of inner illumination can outshine any June gloom day or difficult life situation.  

With the sea glass: a reminder that though things are broken, they can smooth over and be beautiful again.

With the sand dollars: a reminder of something my grandfather used to say: “money is funny;” I had all the riches I needed to lead a happy life right under my nose. 

It's hasn't even been a month since I left the Pacific ocean, but you can bet I miss it tremendously.

I still take morning walks. And I'm still finding the magic/messages...it’s just not in the sand. 

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As I’ve been visiting my family in Pennsylvania, I've been thinking about how this time last year, the maple leaves were so vibrantly red. Truthfully: I was kinda bummed to not be experiencing that crisp & crimson radiance this Fall.

The other day, in a sea of a curbside crunchy brown leaf pile,  I saw these yellow/red speckled leaves individually poppin’ through. And then I got it. 

I got the message.

Shifts do not take form in one color. Transitions do not happen over night. Transformation occurs through several different iterations. This time it's beautifully bright & blotchy. 

Remaining grateful for change, trusting the unknown & the ever-so-special-time of in-betweens.