the reset button

There was a stretch of time that felt like a long, dark winter. Everything felt heavy. Uncertain. Like life had narrowed instead of expanded. I kept wondering what might exist on the other side of it all. What now? What actually matters? How do I want to feel as I move forward?

I didn’t have clear answers then. What I did have was a longing. I wanted more joy, yes—but not the fleeting kind. I wanted joy that could hold complexity. I wanted meaning. Magic. A deep, embodied hell yes to being alive. I wanted community and connection that felt real and nourishing. I wanted less hustle and striving, and more flow, presence, and permission to be human. I wanted a practice I could return to, again and again, that soothed the soul and strengthened the heart.

So I stopped waiting for a new normal to arrive. Instead, I began building one.

Over the past few years, I’ve been living the questions rather than trying to solve them. I’ve been practicing Radical Joy—not as an idea, but as a way of being. Tiny rituals. Creative devotion. Choosing connection over isolation. Self-care not as indulgence, but as resistance. Spirituality grounded in daily life. Joy not as denial, but as a steady frequency that helps us stay open, resilient, and alive.

The world hasn’t gotten simpler. We’re still living inside big systems that feel fractured and overwhelming. There is grief here. And fear. And fatigue. Oh my God the fatigue! But I’ve come to believe this: times like these don’t ask us to numb or harden. They ask us to get intentional. To look honestly at what isn’t working, and to courageously choose something different.

For me, Radical Joy became that choice. Not bypassing. Not pretending. But actively creating a life rooted in meaning, creativity, care, and connection—even when things are messy. Especially then.

This is the other side of the winter. Not a return to what was, but a remembering of what matters. A way forward that includes more light, more softness, more magic, and the courage to keep choosing them.

If you’ve been feeling that quiet pull toward something truer, something gentler, something more alive—you’re not alone.

This is the path I’ve been walking. And you’re welcome here.