You Are Welcome Here
Therapeia - To Attend To
Somewhere along the way, we lost the concept of soul in our culture. We dismiss it as religious, or worse, irrelevant. But soul isn’t about doctrine or belief; it’s about depth, about meaning, about the essence of who you are beneath the noise of daily life.
Therapy, at its core, is soul work. Not in the sense of fixing, solving, or optimizing, but in the sense of tending. Paying attention to what calls for care, what aches for understanding, what longs to be heard. It’s about learning the language of your own soul, the quiet messages it sends through discomfort, restlessness, longing.
Pscyhe and Entropy Collide
Symptoms are Unconscious Expressions of Something Deeper
Often, these messages arrive as symptoms: anger that flares unexpectedly, frustration that never quite resolves, loneliness even in the presence of others, the quiet weight of shame, grief that lingers, or a persistent sense of loss. These are not just emotions; they are signals…evidence of something within you that needs tending.
At the core of it all is trauma. Not just in the way we’ve come to define it—singular, catastrophic events, but as the universal wound of being human. The word trauma in Greek etymology translates to ‘wound’. We’ve all been wounded in some way. The moments when we felt unseen, unheard, unsafe. The places in us that learned to survive by shutting down, pushing through, or pleasing others at the expense of ourselves.
The soul, or Psyche, is designed to grow and expand its awareness. It is through wounds that this evolution is set in motion, driven by the force of Entropy, or chaos. Who doesn’t love a little chaos, I know I have. Too much however and one day, we wake to a whisper in the mind: What am I doing? This is the invitation to take a deeper interest in our self, and our Self. The word trauma has become weaponized, demonized, overly emphasized and has lost its meaning. Rest assured, these wounds still need tending to and perhaps that is why you are reading these words right now, your wounds have directed you here. I honor your struggle, your journey, and the spirit within that wishes to feel more aligned with its Self.
2026 - The Year of The Fire Horse
2025 - A Shedding of What Was
2025 was a year of shedding.
Maybe not ceremonially, maybe not gracefully either.
But it carried honesty.
Relationships ended, began, and ended again. Blood family remained fractured, while chosen family quietly took root and grew. Alcohol—subtle, seductive, and familiar—reappeared through longing and love, not through my own hand, but through another’s. I tried to reason with it. I tried to hold hope. I tried to believe someone might choose us over it. That illusion finally loosened its grip on December 30th—proof that insight often arrives late, but never without purpose.
I moved once, then twice, then a third time. Each transition demanded flexibility I didn’t know I still possessed. And while my capacity to adapt astonished me, it also exhausted me. Growth is not glamorous. It costs one a piece of who they were. And it helped find pieces forgotten.
The Snake teaches us this:
What we do not shed, we will carry as poison.
2026 — The Year of the Fire Horse
An Invitation
The Fire Horse does not ask for contemplation alone.
It demands movement, courage, and self-leadership.
This is a year that will require vigor and patience. Passion and restraint. Not a performance of confidence “out there,” but a grounded authority cultivated “in here”—and then allowed to express itself naturally in the world.
The work I engage in is simple—and not easy.
We are responsible for ourselves.
For the thousand projections we carry daily.
For the images of how things should be, how others should behave, who we should be by now.
When reality doesn’t meet those images, we either blame “them” or collapse into blaming ourselves. The Fire Horse will not tolerate this split. If we refuse to hold tension consciously, it turns into chaos unconsciously.
Temperance becomes the quiet discipline of this year.
Tempering pettiness and perfectionism.
Tempering spending (spending of money, emotions, energy).
Tempering “friendly” addictions.
Tempering laziness and over-productivity.
Doing nothing is still doing something.
So is waiting with intention.
The long game matters in 2026. Vision matters. Attention matters. Courage matters—not the loud kind, but the kind that keeps turning inward for answers that can than be lived out loud.
The greatest therapeutic question remains:
If nothing about this (situation) changes, what is it asking of me?
A Closing Invitation
What did you shed in 2025?
What are you ready to embody—boldly and responsibly—in 2026?