ways to be together: finding aliveness

Lately, I’ve been thinking about slowness. Not just as a pace, but as a practice. The way winter stretches time, the way light lingers just a little longer each day. The way slowness allows us to notice—how the world shifts almost imperceptibly, how change unfolds before we have words for it. It’s in this quiet, in this in-between, that I find myself drawn deeper into the work of paying attention.

This newsletter—The Re-Enchantment—has existed in many forms since 2011, at this point nearly 15 years! It’s a place where I come to make sense of the world, to notice the subtle shifts in place, in practice, in the way we pay attention. And yet, lately, I find myself questioning: What if we didn’t rush to sort everything into meaning? What if, instead, we let ourselves sit inside the uncertainty, the discomfort, the raw, unmapped possibility?

I think about this often in the studio. There’s a moment in every creative process when I start sorting too soon, trying to make sense of what’s still taking shape. That’s when I know I need to step away, to let the work breathe. When I force it into clarity too soon, I lose the animating force—the aliveness of collaboration, the unfolding of something I can’t yet see.

The world right now feels like that tangled creative moment. The part where nothing quite fits, where the instinct is to organize, to make sense, to decide. But I wonder—what if we understood adversity as a collaborator? Not in a neat, silver-lining way, but in a way that opens new pathways, trap doors, secret passageways we might have otherwise missed?

In the coming months, I’ll be offering new ways for us to gather—courses, plant sits, and shared practices for deepening our connection to the living world. In my next email, I’ll share more about what’s unfolding, including my upcoming offerings including: a gift of a guided meditation, a monthly plant sit, an invitation only flower essence proving circle, a place for your kids to come explore creativity and plants—all weaving together practices in presence, observation, and being with the more-than-human world.

For now, I’m curious—where do you find this? What happens when you meet the world as it is, without needing to know the answer? What do you become in moments like these?