The winter solstice is a time of darkness, a moment of profound stillness, a pause before the days start to stretch toward the light again. As I sit here, bathed in the low warmth of the winter sun, I am reminded that even in the darkest moments, there is always a stirring within—an anticipation for what lies ahead.

On this cool, crisp day, it’s as if the sunshine warming my skin is lighting my heart. There is an energy inside me, something both quiet and powerful, like an egg quickening within, ready to become something new. The chrysalis of my life is opening, revealing possibilities that I never imagined.

How can a single moment of inspiration ripple out to create waves of change across the globe? As I reflect on my recent trip to Aotearoa, New Zealand, this single question winds through my ramblings, landing me at, not the beginning, but a beginning.

As I walked the familiar trail near my home, I wished I had worn my running shoes. Not for comfort, but because my heart was so full of joy and excitement that I wanted to run, to let loose in the sheer exhilaration of the moment. With each breath, I soaked in the beauty of the day—the only day like it, the day that was here and now.

My thoughts buzzing with delightful anticipation, I rejoiced in my thriving relationships, my daughter shining brightly in my life, and adventures awaiting with kindred spirits across the globe. Among many thrilling updates, there is one that stands out, filling me with a profound sense of purpose and, admittedly, a bit of trepidation: I am writing a book.