In what ways am I “living in the margins” — replaying old roles, stories, or regrets?

What would it look like to lovingly close that chapter — not erase it, but honor it and move forward?

What new chapter might begin if I released my grip on the last one?

What does stepping forward look like for me right now — even in one small way?

The Bloom Between Where You’ve Been and Where You’re Growing

Imagine yourself as a flower in mid-bloom.
Below you, deep roots stretch through seasons of experience — moments that have shaped you, even the ones that felt like storms. Above you, the bud of something new is forming — not yet open, but quietly reaching for the sun.

Now pause in this in-between moment: not the seed, not the full bloom — but the becoming. If one part of your growth were unfolding today, what would it be? Is it a new petal forming? A root growing deeper? A soft opening toward light?

Describe or draw what part of your flower is changing.

What is nourishing that growth?
What part of you is still protecting itself — not ready to open yet?

What does this stage of your blooming feel like — in your body, your emotions, your thoughts?

What do you need to keep growing gently, without rushing?

You don’t have to bloom all at once — you just have to keep growing.

Noticing the Space Between Acceptance and Change

The Summer Space Between Who You Are and Who You're Becoming

Begin by finding stillness — not in silence, but in sunlight.
Let yourself feel the warmth of this season.
Imagine your bare feet in soft grass or warm sand — not to run, but to notice.
The earth beneath you doesn’t ask for improvement.
It simply offers itself — steady, quiet, enough.

Close your eyes.
Let the air move around you — like a breeze through leaves, gentle and present.
Let your breath follow that rhythm.
Not controlled, not shaped — just there.

This is summer’s kind of acceptance:
Nothing blooming too fast.
Nothing trying to prove itself.
Just life, unfolding in the heat and the stillness.

Now ask yourself:

— Where do I feel life warming me — not rushing me, just inviting me?
— What part of me is ripening slowly, without needing to be “fixed”?
— What does it feel like to let change arrive like summer does — steadily, with space to stretch and breathe?

You are in no hurry.
You are not behind.
This season knows how to hold both rest and becoming — and so do you.

Let that be enough today.
Let that be your beginning.