You wouldn't expect to find this comforting...

Dear loves,

We are three-quarters through 2025. It's been "a year" so far. One of those years that has brought unexpected waves and sustained uncertainty for so many I know who are carrying their own struggle—often, quietly—amidst the greater collective journey.

Health. Relationship. Family. Finances. Security. Vocation. Belonging. Home. Habits. In one area or another, a ripple, a change, a challenge, an inability to see how it will shift. At the same time, new spouts of adventure are afoot, full of possibility, creativity, community, and connection. New pathways chosen. Yes, contrast. And, at times, confusion. 

Meanwhile, the collective strain crashes upon the shores of our awareness. The shadows of separation enter our newsfeeds and pang our hearts. Whilst the truth of our energetic nature and essential interdependence becomes impossible not to see.

Together this juxtaposition asks us to go deeper into the heart of humanity. Deep down, we know what we must collectively and individually outgrow. And though we can feel them coming, real evolutions we've yet to realize are not yet clear.

We are living in times we didn't know we signed up for. And yet, we did, as we are here.

I guess that's why these words about 2025 struck me. You would not expect them to be soothing. Or inspiring. Or expansive. Yet, somehow—I truly felt they were. 

Astrologers speak about this as a year of challenge and time for being with uncertainty. And the other day I saw author, tarot reader and astro-guide Kate Forster, who speaks bluntly and irreverently and mostly humors me, offer a candid yet compassionate heart-to-heart. Her words included: 

- 2025 is not a year of thriving. It is a year of surviving. It is a year of liminal space.

- It's waiting, and it's not winning. It's like we're all waiting in a hallway for our names to be called.

- It's not failure. It's just part of the cycle. We're all 'composting' right now. 

- Treat this as your cocoon phase. Instead of trying to force a breakthrough, focus on micro-anchors, like a great coffee, or a good conversation, or a book that enriches you, or content that feels safe.

- The thing about liminal spaces is they don't last forever. You don't need to be thriving right now. You just need to keep breathing.

- Keep choosing small actions. Keep choosing hope and trust that the door will open, and your name will be called. (In other words, clarity will come). 

"You don't need to be thriving right now. You just need to keep breathing."

Wait. How can that be an inspiring narrative?

Because it's not always the most "grand" narrative that creates spaciousness within. Sometimes, it's the most compassionate one. The one that says you're not alone. The one that points you to small things. The one that whispers, 'Hang in there. More is to be revealed.' The one which helps you to exhale, and inhale more fully. The one that creates the breadth in your being to show up with kindness, to yourself and to others, even when life feels like it's pressing in on you. The one that hugs where it hurts.

We're in a liminal space. The inner light you carry matters—this is a message I will never stop sharing. Give nothing permission to displace you from your true home in the heart, and when it nonetheless inevitably does, come back to it. Make coming back to it your highest devotion. Your inner light is a vibrational lantern that others can feel.

I adore the notion of micro-anchors, which we've written about by other names. I'd love to hear a few of yours! 

And if I may offer one, This Book Is A Retreat will help you to show up to the heart, each day you open it. You can find a preview here.

If you want to go deeper, please check out my 1-on-1 'heart activation' sessions. These have felt so powerful.

More online offerings coming soon. 🩷

Much love,

Aimee