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Dear Reader,

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When I think back to the many losses I’ve experienced, I’m reminded of how deeply they’ve changed me. I know I’m not alone in that. While your losses may look different from mine, every one of us encounters transition - both big and small - and every transition carries with it some form of loss and grief. The only constant through a lifetime, it seems, is change.

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There is often a line drawn through the big transitions of our lives: a before and an after. The pain of loss has a way of reshaping us without our permission. The familiar becomes unfamiliar, and we’re left to navigate a world that feels shaky at it's core.

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We are no longer the version of ourselves we once were, and yet, we’re not quite sure who we are becoming. That in-between space can feel incredibly vulnerable. And yet, Reader, it’s also where the magic lies. This is where we have the sacred opportunity to begin aligning with who we are becoming.

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This tender, necessary work of realigning with our new reality is the theme we’re exploring this month. It’s not about “getting back to normal,” but about finding a new rhythm, a new way of being rooted in what is here now. Realignment invites us to meet ourselves gently, honestly, and to slowly adapt to the shape of the life we’re now living.

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In this season of early spring, nature is beginning to stir. The first green shoots are pressing through the soil. The light lingers just a little longer each day. We begin to turn toward the outside world again - after a long, inward season of winter - and slowly, we emerge. This awakening mirrors our own. As we move through grief, we too are growing something new beneath the surface.

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There are ways to soften the journey.

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One such way comes from a story that has stayed with me. In her memoir Wild, Cheryl Strayed shares her grief after losing her mother to cancer. In the rawness of her sorrow, she set out to hike the Pacific Crest Trail alone, and somewhere along the way, she remembered something her mother once told her:

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This phrase became a quiet mantra for her - and for many of us. It’s a reminder that even in the midst of heartbreak, beauty is still here, waiting to be witnessed. Beauty won’t erase our grief, but it can help us stay present to something life-giving as we move through the journey of becoming this newest version of ourselves.

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So this month, as we explore what it means to realign - to root into who we are becoming after loss I invite you to do the same. Put yourself in the way of beauty, however you can.

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Look for the light. Sit beside a blooming tree. Light a candle at dusk. Let a song move through you. Let these small sacred moments guide you back to yourself.

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We may never return to the before. But we can find our way within the after. We can realign with what's to come and trust that even in sorrow, there is still beauty. Still life. Still becoming.