The Shift: Tracing the Spark of Change

 


I’ve often said that Paris was the push-off point—that moment where something in me shifted, where the horizon cracked open and the future started to look different. But lately, I’m starting to wonder if it wasn’t Paris after all. Maybe the change began earlier, in the quiet hills of Switzerland, nestled among the calves and the crisp mountain air.

Our kitchen window there framed a small but stunning view: terraced gardens on the hillside, evolving day by day. I watched as the cover crops were turned under, the soil churned and prepped, readying itself for new life. It wasn’t a money-making endeavor, not even something I thought of as productive in a conventional sense. But it moved me. It reminded me what it feels like to be grounded—truly centered in the Earth, in slowness, in simplicity.

So maybe it wasn’t Paris. Maybe it wasn’t even Switzerland. Maybe it was the act of stepping away from the life we’ve been living that sparked this slow-burn transformation.

Whatever it was, I feel different now. Changed in ways I can’t fully name. There’s a craving for something deeper—something slower, more connected, more real. Even the way I make my morning coffee has changed. What once felt like a warm, familiar hug now feels... thin. Weak. Tasteless. Like it no longer suits the person I’m becoming.

I don’t know exactly what’s next. I don’t know what’s around the corner. But I do know I’m walking toward it with intention, hopeful for whatever is waiting on the other side of this shift.

Whatever this is... it matters.

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