I recently realized this 20-year milestone while going through boxes, purging, and revisiting different chapters and pivotal moments of my life. I came across my junior-year college planner and started flipping through the pages. And I was mesmerized.

There it was…

Marketing exam.

Chemotherapy.

Dance team outing.

One day after another. Cancer didn’t stop me in my tracks. I somehow figured out how to fit cancer into my life instead of letting cancer become my life. And as I look back, I realize I’ve continued to do that in so many ways. Cancer has been part of my story—but it has never been the entirety of my story. There has been so much LIFE alongside it. And today, I feel so much gratitude for all of it.

The beautiful moments.

The painful moments.

The devastating moments.

The uncertain moments.

The pivots.

The endings.

The beginnings.

The people who stayed.

The people who left.

The paths I thought I was supposed to take that ultimately led somewhere completely different. I have learned to love all the versions of me. Not just the healed version. Not just the strong version. Not just the joyful version. But the scared version. The grieving version. The uncertain version. The messy version. The questioning version. Because without all of them, I wouldn’t be who I am today. And maybe that’s one of the greatest gifts of this journey: We don’t arrive at healing once and stay there.

Healing is a continued practice. A continual unfolding. A willingness to let go, to listen, to grow, to become, and to trust what is unfolding—even when we can’t yet see where the path is leading.

This summer has brought another beautiful layer of confirmation that I am being led, supported, guided, and aligned with the path I’m meant to be walking. From my healing breathwork training at David Elliott’s beautiful property in Sandia Park, New Mexico… To meeting new soul sisters and traveling to Venice, California to spend time with them… To continuing to shed what no longer serves me. To protecting my energy. To setting boundaries. To spending more time in solitude, self-study, reflection, and deep inner work. To experiencing abundance in ways that continue to surprise me. And to connecting with more like-minded people—people who resonate on the same frequency, who speak my soul language, who understand this deeper spiritual path of life. For all of it, I am forever grateful.

This time of year always feels like a threshold for me.

Transformation.

Transition.

New beginnings.

Curiosity.

A little grief.

And the ongoing practice of letting go—of grasping, controlling, and holding on to what may no longer be meant for me. There is such beauty in both the darkness and the light. And I’m learning to embrace both. Twenty years ago, I couldn’t have imagined where this path would lead me. And now, I find myself preparing to gather virtually again in just a couple of weeks with cancer patients at Johns Hopkins Hospital, where I’ll have the opportunity to guide them through a healing breathwork experience. There is something incredibly surreal about being on the other side of the experience—once being the person receiving care, and now being the person offering space, presence, and a container for healing. Sometimes I still see my name on these flyers and think… How did I get here?

And then I remember.

One step.

One experience.

One lesson.

One surrender.

One version of me after another.

Life has guided me here. And I am deeply grateful. So today, on this sacred 20-year anniversary, I’m not just reflecting on cancer. I’m celebrating LIFE. I’m celebrating the girl who kept dancing. The woman who kept becoming. The soul who kept trusting. And every version of me in between. Here’s to 20 years of living, learning, releasing, loving, healing, evolving, and continuing to follow the light. And here’s to whatever comes next.

I am still here. I am still becoming. And my light is still very much alive.

As I reflect on these 20 years, I invite you to pause and reflect on your own journey:

• What chapter of your life are you currently standing in?

• What version of yourself do you feel called to honor today?

• What have you moved through that once felt impossible?

• What parts of your journey have shaped you into who you are today?

• Is there something you’ve been holding onto that you’re being invited to release?

• Where in your life are you being asked to trust rather than control?

• What has remained alive and vibrant within you, even through your hardest seasons?

• What “spark” in you has never been extinguished?

• Who are you becoming—and what are you excited to discover about that version of yourself?

• And perhaps most importantly: Can you offer yourself the same compassion and love today that you would offer to a younger version of you who was simply doing the best she could?

So this is me returning here. Reconnecting. Reaching back out into this space that has always felt like a shared table where we pause and reflect together. Since my book release, I’ve been deeply humbled by the outpouring of love and support. People purchasing it, reading it, carrying it into their daily lives and even their travels—it still feels surreal. There is something profoundly moving about knowing that my words are being held in someone else’s hands, that they’re choosing to spend their time inside my story.

I’ve felt a deepening connection with those who are willing to go into those layers with me—the ones who see beyond the surface and meet the deeper parts of what I’ve lived and learned. My hope has always been simple: that my sharing might help others feel more connected to their own radiance, their own life force, their own light.

Today I have the opportunity to attend a virtual metastatic breast cancer support group through Johns Hopkins, showing up not just as a participant, but as a thriver, and sharing my story and my book with other women who understand this terrain in a very real way. There is something sacred about these spaces—about speaking truth in rooms where truth doesn’t need translation.

And then, this week, I pack again. I leave for New Mexico for an eight-day breathwork training. It feels like a full-circle moment. A year ago at this exact time, I was in Costa Rica on my solo trip, writing my book, fresh out of yoga teacher training and graduation, still holding the edges of who I was becoming. Now I find myself here again—on the edge of another threshold, still learning, still expanding, still being reshaped by life as it unfolds.

There’s a quiet awareness in me that I am still not “arrived” anywhere—and I don’t think I’m meant to be. I feel more like I’m sitting in the middle of something ongoing, something alive, something that keeps asking me to soften, listen, and grow into what I don’t yet fully understand. I’m grateful for that.

Even more so, I feel a sense of anticipation—not from striving, but from trust. Like I’m standing at the edge of something bigger than I can yet name, following the quiet thread of alignment as it reveals itself step by step, almost like a treasure hunt through life. And for now, I’m learning to stay with that—between seasons, between selves—while still showing up here, in connection, in community, and in the simple act of sharing what is real.

It feels like it’s been far too long since I’ve sat down to write to you here. This space holds so much of my journey—so much of me—and while I’ve been sharing more intimately over on Conscious Living with Nicole, I’ve deeply missed connecting with all of you who have walked alongside me from the beginning of my health journey.

So… hello. I’m still here. And in so many ways, I feel more here than ever before.

It’s hard to believe we’re already a quarter of the way through 2026. There’s something powerful about this year—a sense of movement, transformation, fire. And I’ve been leaning into it fully, wholeheartedly, without hesitation.

Recently, I was gifted the opportunity to travel for 18 days—an experience that felt nothing short of sacred. In Bali, I immersed myself in deep healing, surrounded by beauty, spirituality, and stillness that spoke to parts of me words never could. I shared that time with my cousin, and together we stepped into spaces that invited release, renewal, and profound connection.

From there, I journeyed to Vietnam, where I entered my 40th year of life. Such a milestone… and yet it felt gentle, intimate, and exactly as it was meant to be. Celebrating with my cousin, being surprised with little moments of love—it was simple, heartfelt, and full. I felt seen. I felt held. I felt deeply grateful.

And then, returning home, I stepped into another significant moment—my follow-up PET scan. A full year since the last. Sitting in that space, I carried both surrender and trust. And the results… were nothing short of incredible. No evidence of active metastatic disease. A remarkable response to treatment.

A year later—strong. Even writing those words brings emotion to the surface.

To sit beside my mom during that virtual appointment, to hear my oncologist affirm what I’ve felt within—that I am an example of beating the odds—that everything I’ve been doing is working… it was a moment I will carry with me forever. But what feels even more significant is this: I no longer live in the energy of fighting. I’ve let that go. I’ve shifted into surrender. Into trust. Into living. Freely. Boldly. Authentically. And from that place… life continues to unfold in the most beautiful, unexpected ways.

Yesterday—on Earth Day, of all days—my memoir was released. Even typing that feels surreal.

After all the waiting, all the aligning, all the quiet moments of wondering when… it arrived. And within minutes of sharing it, the love that poured in was overwhelming in the most humbling way. Messages, support, encouragement—it was something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully put into words.

There is vulnerability in sharing my story this openly. In allowing people to witness my sorrow, my healing, my strength. But there is also purpose.

This is my truth.

This is my calling.

This is God’s work—I am simply the messenger.

If my story resonates with you, if you feel called to go deeper with me, my book is there for you. And if not, that is just as honored. There is no expectation—only gratitude. Always gratitude.

Link to my book

What I do hope, more than anything, is that you allow yourself to feel the magic that exists in your everyday life.

To live vividly.

To speak your truth.

To give yourself permission to be fully, unapologetically you.

To trust that even in the uncertainty, even in the waiting, even in the unknown—the universe is supporting you in ways you may not yet see. As for me, I’m embracing this next chapter with an open heart. I’m excited for the change, the expansion, the continued healing, and the connections yet to come.

And of course… through it all, sweet Dunkin remains right by my side—my constant, my grounding, my angel in fur. The love we share is one of the purest gifts in my life.

Thank you for being here. For walking this path with me. For holding space for my story, just as I hold space for yours.

With so much love and gratitude,

Nicole

Reflection Questions

• Where in your life are you still “fighting” instead of allowing yourself to surrender and trust?

• What does living freely and authentically look like for you right now?

• Can you identify a moment recently where life surprised you with something beautiful or unexpected?

• What are you being invited to release as you move into this next chapter of your life?

• How does gratitude show up in your daily routine, even in the simplest moments?

• If you fully trusted that the universe was supporting you, what would you do differently?

• What parts of your story are you ready to honor, share, or reclaim?

Take a moment. Breathe it in. Your life is unfolding exactly as it’s meant to.

Monday, February 2: Finding Strength in the Pause

Monday back in Maryland carries a very particular energy — the quiet insistence to return to rhythm. Back to routines. Back to structure. It mirrors what so many of my clients are navigating right now, too. A full week of snow days disrupted school, and even today’s two-hour delay created ripples through families’ schedules, emotions, and nervous systems. Transitions, even gentle ones, still ask something of us.

I began my morning back at my home yoga studio, welcomed with open arms. Familiar faces. Familiar space. Returning to my mat felt like returning to myself — finding my place again, both physically and emotionally. There is something deeply regulating about familiarity, about being held by a space that remembers you.

After moving through a full day of virtual therapy sessions, I felt a pause settle in — a quiet standstill. For the past month in Florida, evenings held warmth and possibility: sunset walks along the beach or down the main road with the dog, the body naturally moving toward light and air. Here, winter has already closed that door. It’s dark early. The temperature has dropped below twenty degrees. Sidewalks and roads are coated in ice. Movement now happens indoors, on a treadmill, rather than under the sky.

There’s a heaviness in the house — even the dog seems to have adopted the energy of a house cat rather than an adventurous companion. Lethargy lingers, not as something wrong, but as something seasonal.

Today is Groundhog Day — and my mother’s birthday. My sister took her on a small trip to Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, a sweet bucket-list moment to honor a birthday that always falls on this symbolic day. Six more weeks of winter were predicted, which felt unsurprising. It seems the universe is inviting all of us to slow down, to turn inward, to settle rather than rush ahead. I’m practicing embracing that invitation instead of resisting it.

In yoga class this morning, we worked toward headstand — not by forcing or kicking up, but by honoring the pause. The stillness. The control that comes from patience rather than momentum. Strength isn’t found in jumping to the next shape; it’s built in the quiet preparation. It’s in the pause that we discover what’s actually holding us.

I ended my evening baking a fresh apple bread to surprise my mom for her birthday — one of her favorite desserts, made with nourishing, organic ingredients. Baking isn’t usually my preferred way to unwind, especially bread, but tonight it felt like an offering. A small act of service for someone who has given so much of her life in love and sacrifice. Whether or not it turns out perfectly almost feels beside the point. It was made with intention. With care. With gratitude.

Tomorrow, dropping it off will be a gift for both of us — a reminder that even in the quiet of winter, we can still create warmth.

Tuesday, February 3: Breaking the Bread, Breaking the Ice: Listening for Aliveness in the Stillness

I am still learning how to embrace the rhythms—especially the slower ones that ask me to soften instead of push.

This morning, before the sun rose, I left the house bundled in thick layers, scarves wrapped tight, the kind of cold that invites surrender rather than resistance. When the yoga teacher entered the studio and asked how we were doing, she could read the room before we even answered. Our energy said everything.

“Okay,” she smiled gently, “this looks like a need for restorative music.”

The lights dimmed. Candlelight flickered. Restorative music filled the space. After jumping on the mat, settling into stillness felt like a mercy. I could have stayed in Savasana for hours, letting my nervous system finally exhale.

After class, I made my way to the swinging egg chair in the lobby—coconut water in hand, packed breakfast beside me—watching the birds gather at the feeder for their own morning nourishment. Even the neighborhood dog arrived at the studio door right on time for his daily treat. It felt like a sacred hour of tending: everyone, human and otherwise, receiving what they needed.

I planned to stop by my mom’s work to surprise her with a fresh succulent I picked up and a loaf of homemade apple bread. She was delighted. Her coworkers—who know me through stories—greeted me warmly, like I already belonged there. As I was leaving, one of them handed me a gift in return: a jade plant. Its dark emerald leaves felt bold and strong in my hands. Grounded. Alive. Exactly the energy I’m inviting in as I continue stepping into this new year.

Later, my mom shared that she had broken the bread and shared it with several women in the office. Everyone enjoyed it. Something about that filled my heart completely. Such a simple act—sharing bread—yet it carries warmth, connection, and love in ways that words often cannot.

I mustered the courage to take a short cold walk around the neighborhood with the dog. Snow still covered everything, blanketing the world in quiet. Yet beneath the stillness, I could feel it: a subtle aliveness returning. The sound of snow melting under the daytime sun. Birds chirping softly. A season loosening its grip.

Nothing forced. Nothing rushed. Just life, gently waking up again.

Wednesday, February 4: When the Cracks Let the Light In

Although it wasn’t planned, four of us from the May graduating yoga teacher training class found ourselves gathered in the studio lobby after class—snacks and tea in hand—with our beloved studio owner. She is far beyond a mentor to me; she is a spiritual soul-sister and a dear friend. What unfolded was organic and unforced: deep, open, authentic conversation. The kind that doesn’t need an agenda because everyone present feels the same quiet yes.

We spoke about the collective moment we are living in—what feels like the largest awakening of our lifetime. An awakening that is beautiful and energizing, yet intense. With increased awareness comes a surge of energy, and with that surge, corruption and distortion are no longer able to stay hidden. They are cracking, revealing themselves, coming into the light. Some of the realizations shared in that space quite literally gave me goosebumps. It felt grounding and nourishing to be among like-minded people who can zoom out to the macro level—philosophical, spiritual, collective—without needing to convince or defend.

Later that day, I returned a phone call from a parent in my dance group, and unexpectedly, the conversation echoed the same themes. She shared her own awakening—learning about food as medicine, broccoli as a powerful superfood, and ivermectin that profoundly helped her husband heal. She spoke vulnerably about her adult son with special needs and how, out of love and guilt, she once allowed soda and treats because she wanted him to experience joy and felt bad for him. Over time, she realized that indulgence wasn’t kindness—it was unintentionally harmful. She began making changes, and with those changes came greater well-being.

She reflected something back to me that landed deeply: that my “proof of walk”—how I live, eat, move, and care for my body—demonstrates that healing is possible. Knowledge is power, we agreed, but blind trust in systems that are not designed to prioritize true health is where many of us lose our way. Ultimately, our health and our lives are held in our own hands.

What struck me most was this: I am having more of these conversations with others, not at others. It feels as though people are waking up on their own—like termites finally emerging from the woodwork. I don’t need to persuade or push. I simply need to stay rooted and receptive.

And yet, alongside this clarity, I still feel scattered at times—my focus pulled in many directions. Ironically, this is happening as I’ve begun reading Four Thousand Weeks by Oliver Burkeman. I had heard his work referenced before and listened to podcasts he appeared on, but a recent yoga studio book club nudged me to finally sit with his words. His reflections on our modern, constructed relationship with time—the urgency, the productivity obsession, the endless to-do lists that leave us burnt out and frayed—resonate deeply. I’m reminding myself that I am not chasing anything. When I stop grasping, more flow arrives. “Work” is simply what we are doing while we are alive and answering what feels aligned.

In the midst of all this, I received an email from my publisher with the electronic proof of my book design—months in the making. Seeing it felt surreal. Even with corrections still needed and steps yet to complete, I can feel the work coming into form. I’m practicing trust: that this book will be released when it is meant to be, according to a timing far wiser than my own.

Thursday, February 5: Loose Ends & Authentic Connections

Today carried the quiet satisfaction of tying up loose ends—the kind that doesn’t shout productivity, but hums completion. I could feel it in my body as I checked things off a visual to-do list: not urgency, not pressure, but a soft exhale. Done. Settled. Enough for today.

One of those tasks holds weight each month: calling the specialty pharmacy to arrange my refill for my targeted oral treatment—three weeks on, one week off, governed by insurance timing, delivery windows, and pill counts. With travel approaching in two weeks, an old concern resurfaced: What if the medication can’t arrive in time?

Months ago, I’d already brought this to my oncologist. We’d explored possibilities—adjusting the cycle, skipping a week, working around the system. And somewhere along the way, I loosened my grip. I surrendered to the knowing that my health and destiny are not determined by a precise number of pills or a perfectly uninterrupted schedule. I let it be messy. Human. Trust-based.

So when I made the call today, I wasn’t bracing. And the answer came easily: the delivery will arrive with enough time for me to bring the medication along on my journey. Relief arrived—not as triumph, but as confirmation that ease can meet us when we stop wrestling outcomes.

That ease followed me as I began my packing list. I noticed myself negotiating with old patterns—deciding which health regimens to bring, which routines to maintain, which ones might be gently released. I want to care for my body on the road, yes—but without rigid attachment. Without turning wellness into another form of control. Maybe this trip is also an invitation to rest from optimization and practice living.

The sensory rituals of the day grounded me further. A dear friend from middle school—still woven into my life decades later—gifted me handmade soap she crafted herself, infused with dried flowers and essential oils. Such a small thing. Such a profound reminder. Washing my body, showering beneath eucalyptus hanging from the showerhead, breathing in floral steam—these moments felt like devotion. Mindfulness without effort. Presence without instruction.

And then there was connection.

A message from a friend in my yoga teacher training, following up after our time together at the studio yesterday—simple, warm, rooted in shared understanding. And another message from someone I’ve never met in person: a friend of a friend, walking his own cancer path. For months, I’ve offered support, guidance, and companionship from afar. Today, his gratitude landed deeply. A reminder that authentic connection doesn’t require proximity—only sincerity.

Community showed up today in quiet ways. Not loud gatherings or big declarations. Just honest words, open hearts, and the gentle weaving of lives touching lives.

Loose ends tied. Checkmarks made. And beneath it all, a growing trust that when I soften my grip, life meets me there.

Friday, February 6: The Dandelion

Today was a day of conscious tending.

Before my tattoo, I prepared my body the way I would for any meaningful experience — with nourishment, hydration, and care. I supported my liver and detoxification pathways with milk thistle tea, gentle cleansing practices, and intention.

Afterward, I continued to tend. A castor oil pack to support circulation and lymphatic flow. Deep hydration. Rest when I got home — honoring that my body had done real work and deserved softness, not productivity.

As always, I ended the day with practices that help my body move stagnation and return to balance: the shake plate and red light therapy. Gentle reminders to my lymphatic system, my cells, my nervous system — we’re safe, we’re supported, we’re healing.

I felt deep gratitude tonight. Gratitude for my body’s ability to endure. Gratitude for its intelligence. Gratitude for its capacity not only to withstand, but to heal.

I know some people may not understand my decision to get a tattoo. They may see it only as toxin, poison, or risk. But this choice was made in relationship with my body, not in opposition to it. I chose what felt right for me — trusting the strength I’ve built, the awareness I carry, and the care I consistently offer.

This tattoo is more than ink.

It’s a marker of my journey.

A story I wear on my skin.

A reminder that my body is resilient, responsive, and worthy of trust.

Today wasn’t about proving anything.

It was about honoring myself — and continuing to tell the truth of my healing, in my own way.

Why I Chose the Dandelion

I chose a dandelion not because it’s delicate, but because it’s powerful.

For years, dandelion has been part of my daily rhythm — dandelion root tea at night, eating fresh leaves directly or making green juice with them, a quiet ritual of support and care for my body. What many people see as a weed, I’ve come to understand as one of nature’s most resilient healers.

From a health perspective, dandelion has long been used to support the liver, digestion, and detoxification pathways — the systems responsible for clearing what no longer belongs. Emerging research continues to explore dandelion root for its potential role in supporting cellular health and immune balance. While it’s not a cure and never a replacement for medical care, it represents something deeply meaningful to me: creating an internal environment where healing is possible.

Each part of the plant tells a story.

The root anchors deeply and nourishes the liver and gut.

The leaves are mineral-rich and support the kidneys and lymphatic system.

The flower carries light, resilience, and the reminder that beauty can thrive even in harsh conditions.

Symbolically, the dandelion grows where it isn’t invited. It survives being pulled apart. It returns stronger. It clears space, spreads freely, and refuses to disappear. That symbolism mirrors my own journey — learning to trust my body, support it gently, and honor both modern medicine and ancient wisdom.

This tattoo isn’t about claiming a cure.

It’s about resilience, elimination, renewal, and hope.

It’s a reminder that healing is layered, personal, and deeply alive — and that sometimes the most underestimated plants carry the most powerful medicine.

Saturday, February 7: After the Ink: Listening to the Body, Celebrating the Living

The day after the tattoo felt less about the ink itself and more about what my body was asking of me.

I noticed her response immediately—tender, sensitive, signaling a clear need for reset. I listened. I chose rest. No exercise, no pushing, no bargaining with my usual momentum. I slept with a castor oil pack overnight, a quiet act of devotion, and began the morning with hydration before anything else. A simple but powerful reminder: tending comes before doing.

Later, I stepped into one of my favorite roles—the ringleader, the gatherer. I brought together my mother, my oldest sister, my nieces, and great-nephews for a late birthday lunch celebrating both my mom and sister. There is a deep joy I feel in orchestrating moments where people come together, especially when I can do so while honoring my own lifestyle and values. Watching everyone enjoy themselves nourishes me in a way that feels just as essential as rest.

I savored a beautifully prepared seabass and vegetables—food that felt aligned, celebratory, and grounding.

Afterward, I called my mother to share the news about my tattoo. I knew it wouldn’t be something she loved or immediately understood. And yet, she listened. She let me choose. I explained how I see the tattoo as self-expression—a visual storytelling of my journey. I shared the symbolism of the dandelion, how every part of it holds healing value: the root, the leaves, the whole plant. How it has supported my body and mirrored my resilience. That conversation felt like a small but meaningful bridge—acceptance without agreement, love without control.

With temperatures hovering around 12°F and a wild windchill outside, the evening naturally turned inward. I baked another version of apple bread, cozying up by the fireplace with the dog, moving slowly between warmth and creativity. I spent time researching excursions for our upcoming travels to Bali and Vietnam, feeling the quiet excitement of what’s approaching.

My thoughts drifted to milestones—how so many of my girlfriends and I are entering our 40th year. I put together a small surprise gift for a dear friend who shares my birthday week. I couldn’t help but reflect on our 21st birthdays, and how nearly two decades later, we’re here—still standing, still celebrating, still alive.

What an honor it is to reach this chapter.

What a privilege it is to celebrate living.

Sunday, February 8: Super Bowl Sunday: Returning to Joy Without the Rush

Super Bowl Sunday began with a homecoming of sorts. I stepped back into the dance studio for the first time since June—our first rehearsal of the season with my all-inclusive group. For weeks, I have been hearing how excited they were to reunite, and the moment I walked in, I could feel it. The energy was high—smiles everywhere, enthusiastic greetings, genuine warmth, and a shared sense of belonging.

I arrived with intention and playfulness: a special Super Bowl football playlist, fun props for games, and tattoo and slap bracelets waiting for everyone as they walked in. The room felt alive. Watching people of all abilities feel at home, have fun, and freely express themselves reminded me what a blessing it is to hold space like this. There was no performance pressure—just joy, connection, and presence.

Later, the day softened into simple, meaningful moments. Mike’s mom stopped by for a special visit, one of those small but intentional pauses in time that feels quietly sacred. These moments of sharing—unrushed and sincere—are the ones I find myself cherishing more and more.

We stayed in for a cozy Super Bowl night. Mike headed out to grab food truck fare to satisfy his appetite, while I enjoyed my own version of Super Bowl food: pasture-raised chicken, organic potatoes turned into baked rosemary garlic fries, homemade tzatziki, and raw organic vegetables. Nourishing, grounding, and deeply satisfying.

I ended the night wrapped in much-needed dog snuggles, feeling warm and content. There was a deep sense of satisfaction in how I chose to spend my time—no force, no pressure, no feeling of missing out. Just a calm confidence that my choices were aligned, intentional, and true to what matters most to me right now.

Journal Questions:

• Where in your life are you being invited to slow down and trust the rhythm you’re in?

• What is your body asking for more of right now: rest, movement, nourishment, or gentleness?

• How do you relate to stillness—do you resist it, avoid it, or allow it to support you?

• Where might you loosen your grip on control and experiment with trusting the unfolding?

• What simple moments from this week felt quietly alive or meaningful?

• How do you recognize alignment in your body when you’re living in a way that feels true?

• As this season continues, what are you tending beneath the surface that doesn’t yet need to be seen?

Thank you for walking through this week with me. These reflections aren’t simply a dear diary—they’re my ongoing practice of living out loud with vulnerability, intention, and presence. Each day holds wisdom, symbolism, and quiet beauty when we slow down enough to notice. If these words resonate, I invite you to share the blog, help spread the light, and consider a paid subscription for more intimate reflections and to support this work. Your presence here truly matters.

As we step into this new year, I find myself reflecting with deep gratitude on this space and the journey we’ve shared here. Over the past few years, Teachings from a Walk of Life with Nicole has held my story of healing—walking through a stage four breast cancer diagnosis, navigating holistic wellness, lifestyle changes, daily rituals, and the quiet, courageous choices that come with listening deeply to the body and spirit.

This space has been about survival becoming intentional living.

About learning how to stay present in uncertainty.

About walking life slowly, honestly, and consciously.

I’m so grateful you’ve been here for that.

As this new year begins, something is also shifting.

I’ve felt called to create a new, more intimate space—one that allows me to go deeper into conscious living beyond the chapter of cancer healing. A place for reflection, embodiment, truth-telling, and practical wisdom gathered from lived experience as life continues to unfold.

I’ve created a new Substack publication called

Conscious Living with Nicole.

This new space is intentionally smaller, slower, and more personal. It’s where I’ll be sharing weekly reflections, deeper insights, and honest explorations of what it means to live consciously—emotionally, physically, spiritually, and relationally. I’ll also be writing about wellness and travel, navigating healthy living in the real world, and reimagining health and healing beyond outdated societal standards.

Because of the depth and energy this work asks of me, this new space includes a paid subscription option, for those who feel called to walk more closely alongside me in this next chapter.

This blog will continue to exist as a record of my healing journey and the teachings that emerged from it. And for those who feel curious, ready, or drawn toward deeper reflection, I would love to welcome you into the new space.

If you’d like to follow along or subscribe, you can find Conscious Living with Nicole here:

Conscious Living with Nicole

Let's Dig Deeper Together

Hi, I’m Nicole…

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8 months ago · Nicole Dover

Thank you for walking with me—then, now, and wherever your own path may be leading you next.

With love, gratitude, and intention for the year ahead,

Nicole

A month since returning from the Amazon and sitting with the echoes of my ayahuasca experience. A month of holidays and holy moments—celebrations, birthdays, laughter, and also grief. Honoring the lives of friends’ mothers, holding space for loss while still choosing to show up for joy.

There were winter days filled with slowness and darkness, and others marked by movement and connection. A Philly day trip with my mom and sister—holiday show, the Christmas Village, yummy food and embracing the cold winter air. A reminder that presence is the real gift, and that memory-making doesn’t need to be elaborate to be meaningful.

This season asked me to embrace both ends of the spectrum: rest and hustle, solitude and socialization, reflection and celebration. And I did my best to meet it all with an open heart.

As I close out this chapter of 2025—the Year of the Snake, I feel the truth of its symbolism deeply. This was a year of shedding skins, ending cycles, releasing identities that no longer fit. A massive year of transformation, growth, and deep internal change. Not always comfortable. Often profound. Always necessary.

And now, on the threshold of a new year—the Year of the Horse—I step forward with optimism and humility. The energy feels different: movement, momentum, launching, change. There is also uncertainty. But instead of resisting it, I’m learning to trust what the universe is still unfolding for me.

One of the most grounding moments this month was my final oncology follow-up of the year. I feel strong. Healthy. Healed. I’ve chosen to schedule my next PET scan for March, a full year since my last. This choice is intentional. I’m practicing living with ease—listening to my body instead of searching for symptoms, trusting how I feel physically, emotionally, and energetically. Choosing presence over fear. Life over hyper-vigilance.

Looking ahead, I’m planning new adventures—traveling to Bali and Vietnam in February and March, where I’ll welcome my 40th year of life. Entering a new decade feels symbolic in all the right ways: expansive, reverent, alive with possibility. A celebration not just of age, but of survival, growth, and becoming.

I remain committed to being a model of conscious living, health, and healing. To sharing my story honestly. To inspiring others to care for their bodies, tend to their nervous systems, and live more fully. I’m still doing deep work—continuing to meet old wounds with compassion, curiosity, and patience. Healing isn’t linear, and I’m okay with that.

I’m learning what balance really means. Finding homeostasis in my routines. Honoring both discipline and softness. Continuing my yoga journey—not just on the mat, but as a way of life—and encouraging others to experience the bliss and grounding of yogic living.

As this year comes to a close, I feel full of life and light. Supported. Loved. Grateful beyond words.

Thank you for being part of this chapter.

See you on the other side of the new year.

I’m finally home—and just in time for Thanksgiving. The timing feels impeccable, almost divinely planned. After such a transformative week deep in the Amazon, touching down the day before a holiday centered on gratitude brings an entirely new meaning to the word thankful.

The journey there, like most adventures, came with a few hiccups. I missed one of my connecting flights, which meant finding a last-minute hotel near the Bogotá airport in Colombia. Then my luggage went missing for nearly four hours. But even with these little setbacks, nothing could overshadow the experience I had just lived through. If anything, those inconveniences reminded me how small these moments are compared to the bigger journey unfolding.

A New Moon Beginning

The retreat began on a new moon—symbolic in ways I didn’t realize until later. A new moon is a time when the subconscious speaks louder, intuition sharpens, and shadow work rises to meet you. It was divine timing for the start of what would become a profound journey inward.

Right away, I felt connected to the small group of retreat members. There was a solo female traveler from Switzerland, a mother and son from Canada originally from France, and the retreat host, Marta, who now lives in Costa Rica but is originally from Estonia. It was beautiful meeting people from different corners of the world, each on their own path of growth and healing.

Immersed in the Alive, Breathing Jungle

Calanoa, where we stayed, sits two hours up the Amazon River from Leticia. By the time we arrived, it felt as though the jungle wrapped itself around us completely. Everything was alive. Everything had a pulse. The sounds at night were almost deafening—but in the most grounding, mesmerizing way.

We saw several species of monkeys, a sloth, and learned about countless medicinal plants and ancient trees. There’s a saying in the rainforest: everything you need exists here, and it felt true. Our meals were local and fresh, paired with fruit juices and a morning cacao ceremony that felt both nourishing and sacred.

A Solo Ayahuasca Ceremony with the Shaman

On the second day, I traveled by private boat deeper into the jungle, then trekked into the secondary forest to meet an Indigenous shaman. There, I had the rare opportunity to participate in a solo ayahuasca ceremony—the “real deal,” directly at the source of the medicine.

I helped prepare the brew myself, learning from the masculine and feminine trees that come together to create ayahuasca. I meditated beside them, connecting with the plants, the forest, and the ancient wisdom that lives there.

It was the most terrifying, liberating, beautiful experience I’ve ever had. A true surrender. A deep trust. A lesson in the illusion of control and the simplicity of what truly matters. Some would call it a “dark night of the soul,” and maybe it was—but it also felt like a rebirth.

I came away with clarity, connection, and a renewed sense of presence. I understood, more than ever, the preciousness of this physical life—of being in a human body, of having senses, of experiencing love, nature, emotion, and connection with others.

Witnessing the Beauty of Simplicity

Beyond the ceremony itself, the cultural experience was equally impactful. In the local village of Mocagua, I saw how simplicity and joy can coexist effortlessly. People move slowly, intentionally.

In Puerto Nariño, I witnessed how the community gathers at the river each day—sharing produce, stories, and life itself in the most grounded, beautiful ways. I even wandered the streets of Leticia on my own before the journey ended and crossed the border into Tabatinga, Brazil, for a glimpse of daily life there too.

There’s something incredibly humbling about being immersed in a culture where you don’t speak the language and don’t know the currency. That vulnerability made me feel alive, aware, and grateful.

A Homecoming in More Ways Than One

Today, when I finally returned home, I felt full and grounded. People have told me I look radiant, glowing, lighter. Maybe this journey was part of my becoming—part of stepping into a more colorful, connected version of myself.

As I settle back into my space and prepare for Thanksgiving tomorrow, I feel grateful for my family, friends, and the chance to share this experience. I hope my journey inspires others to stop playing small, to seek what lights them up, and to live their own beautifully unique life. There is so much love and light within each of us waiting to be expressed.

This trip changed me, and I’ll carry its lessons with me moving forward—living more fully, more boldly, and more present than ever.

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

As I pause to reflect, it’s hard to believe it’s been two years since my stage IV recurrence of cancer — a time when everything felt uncertain. I still remember being in that chapter of life, quietly afraid, wondering what life would look like on the other side of that diagnosis. Looking back now, I see just how much I’ve transformed. I’ve grown into the best version of myself — one rooted in faith, gratitude, and deep surrender — and I know the journey of growth continues to unfold ahead of me.

These past two years have taught me to trust — to trust the Divine, the Universe, and the quiet guidance that speaks through intuition. I no longer feel the need to control or to know every next step. Instead, I’ve learned that I’m always being led, breadcrumb by breadcrumb, along the path that’s meant for me. My only job is to follow with an open heart and let my energy be aligned with where it’s needed most.

It’s a beautiful thing to surrender to life in this way — to release old versions of myself, to let go of what no longer fits, and to continue peeling back the layers of ancestral and conditioned patterns. Healing isn’t linear; it’s a spiral. And each turn of that spiral brings us closer to home — to our truth.

As we enter the last quarter of this year, I feel called to deepen my healing once again. In three weeks, I’ll be heading to the Amazon in Colombia, traveling along the river to reach a retreat space only accessible by boat — a sacred journey that’s been calling me for some time. I’ll be reuniting with the retreat host I met during my silent yoga and meditation retreat in October 2024 — another chapter that deeply transformed me.

This next step feels divinely orchestrated. I know I’m meant to be there — to continue listening, healing, and surrendering to whatever the Amazon has to teach me.

It’s wild to think how life has unfolded. Before my diagnosis, I could never have imagined living this way — so open, intuitive, guided by spirit rather than fear. But I’m no longer that version of myself. I’m continually becoming, saying yes to what feels aligned, and trusting what’s next.

My hope is that my journey can serve as a gentle reminder — for you, too — to listen to your inner whispers. Those quiet nudges, pushes, and pulls from the universe are invitations to live differently, to trust life’s timing, and to see the beauty in surrender.

Here’s to following the breadcrumbs that lead us home — to ourselves, to healing, and to the divine path uniquely carved for each of us.

With love and trust,

Nicole

And what a season it’s been.

Back in May, I proudly completed my 200-hour yoga teacher training with the incredible community at Yoga Centric. What a profound and humbling journey of growth. To move through this training alongside such inspiring classmates—and to teach our first live class together—was nothing short of magic. It was especially meaningful to have my loving cousin there supporting me, she was the one who first introduced me to Yoga Centric years ago. At the time, I had no idea that studio would become a second home, a sanctuary, and such a pivotal space for transformation.

Shortly after graduating, I embarked on a solo trip to Costa Rica, a place that continues to call me back again and again. This time, I arrived just as green season began—witnessing the first rains after months of dry heat. The jungle came alive in a way that took my breath away. I fell asleep to peaceful rainstorms and woke up to howler monkeys in the trees. For the first half of the trip, I shared the property with another beautiful solo female traveler; the second half, I had the entire place to myself. That solitude was sacred. It gave me the quiet space I craved to write, reflect, and be still as I worked on my book.

Back home, my beloved special needs dance group took the stage again for our 10th annual Dancing is Everything recital. Each year, these performances feel even more special. We also received exciting news that the feature segment aired last summer about our dance group—and my personal healing journey—was nominated for an Emmy in its category! While the piece didn’t take home the award, the news team was overjoyed by the nomination and poured so much love into telling our story. Just being recognized in that way is such an honor.

As for my health, I’ve shifted into a new phase of healing—one rooted in balance and sustainability. I’m still prioritizing optimal wellness, but without the intensity I once needed. The daily “hacks” are now woven into my life more naturally. I’m nourishing my adrenals, continuing deep ancestral emotional work, and most importantly, learning to soften into stillness. The healing journey is never linear—and it’s never done. But I’ve entered a chapter where ease and trust are leading the way.

Behind the scenes, I’m still working on some meaningful projects and staying open to how things will unfold. I remain committed to raising consciousness, increasing collective awareness, and simply being a light where I can.

If you’re reading this, thank you for walking alongside me—whether it’s been a quiet few months or a long journey. There’s more to come, and I’m so grateful to be here to witness it all.

With love and presence,

Nicole

This phase of remission feels like a new assignment, a calling to step deeper into my purpose. I feel a profound desire to spread seeds of empowerment, to inspire others to align with their true selves, and to share the power of healing, both in body and mind. I trust that the universe, Spirit, and God will continue to guide me as a vessel for light, love, and transformation. I believe in karma, in the cycles of giving and receiving, and I am deeply grateful for the abundance of support that has carried me here. Now, I ask myself: How can I give back even more? How can I be of greater service to others?

This introspection has led me to a long-held dream that I know I can no longer put off—I feel called to write my book. Writing about my healing journey is something I’ve started and stopped many times, always feeling that there were missing pieces, that the story wasn’t fully formed yet. But now, I know: the time has come. The words are ready to be written, and I am ready to share them.

To honor this calling, I’ve decided to embark on another solo trip to Costa Rica—a place that has always felt like home to my soul. This trip will be a time of solitude, reflection, and deep creative work, allowing me to fully absorb the magnitude of this journey while pouring my heart onto the page. It’s a dream I’ve envisioned for years, playfully imagining myself escaping to an island to write, and now, that vision is manifesting into reality.

In perfect alignment, I’ll be setting off on this journey in May, the day after I graduate from my 200-hour yoga teacher training—a powerful milestone that marks my dedication to self-discovery and to walking this path with intention. Though I’ll be shifting some of my focus behind the scenes to bring this book to life, I don’t want to disappear entirely. I’ll still check in periodically, sharing reflections and updates when I feel called.

To my beautiful community—your outpouring of love, your prayers, and your presence in my journey mean everything to me. You are the puzzle pieces that have shaped this story, and I am forever grateful. Let’s continue to raise the frequency, to vibrate higher, and to spread light and love together.

Namaste.

I did it.

My goal—to prove that the body can heal—has already happened. There’s now proof of what I have always known deep in my soul, in every cell of my being. I knew this was my mission, that this healing would come, but perhaps even I didn’t expect it to unfold so soon. And yet, here I am, soaking in the profound gratitude of this milestone and everything it means for my future.

The PET Scan: A Defining Moment

A couple of weeks ago, I had my follow-up PET scan. I went into it feeling optimistic—knowing how much work I had put into my healing in the eight months since my last scan—but I was still intentional in preparing my body before and after, minimizing radiation exposure and supporting detoxification.

During the preparation period, as the glucose absorbed into my body, I remained committed to the life I’m creating. Instead of sitting in anxiety, I did my yoga teacher training homework, hydrated, and listened to healing music. Friends sent messages of support, checking in on me, and I felt calm, proud, and at peace as I lay in the machine. Afterward, I completed my detox protocols and felt an overwhelming sense of confidence—I knew, deep down, that my body was working with me.

Typically, PET scan results can take up to 48 hours, but my results appeared in MyChart in just over 24 hours—a few hours before I left for my evening yoga training.

Opening those results was a moment I’ll never forget.

The radiology report was one page—a stark contrast to the multiple pages I had received in the past. As I scanned through, I reached the summary and stopped. No active cancer detected.

Could this really be what I thought it was?

I hesitated to get too excited, needing confirmation from my oncologist, but I couldn’t help but share the news with my mother, sister, and a few close loved ones. Still, I kept it quiet, choosing to sit with the energy of this moment before fully embracing it. Something felt different.

Meeting with My Oncologist: A New Chapter Begins

A week later, I walked into my oncology appointment with my journal full of questions. For months, my checkups had been routine—no new concerns, no real shifts. But this appointment felt different.

My oncologist, remaining neutral yet optimistic, confirmed what I had read:

• No active uptake.

• The cancer had calmed down.

• Complete metabolic remission.

• Healing bones.

She explained that my cancer was now behaving in a hormone-sensitive way, meaning it was responding incredibly well to treatment. While PET scans detect inflammation from cancer .5 centimeters or larger, the fact that nothing showed up meant that the disease burden was either too small to detect or entirely quiet.

Though she carefully avoided using words like cure or miracle, she acknowledged that this was better than a typical response—most patients achieve only a partial response, whereas mine was ideal.

I knew this was not the expected outcome for most. And yet, here I was, living proof that something remarkable had taken place.

With this shift, I successfully negotiated to spread my monthly injections to every three months, reducing both my toxic load and my visits to the oncology office. One step at a time, I am shaping my path forward in alignment with my body’s needs.

After the appointment, my mother and I celebrated. We had already planned a belated birthday dinner, but now, it felt like something so much bigger—a true moment of joy, presence, and deep gratitude. As we walked through Harbor East, breathing in the fresh air and soaking in the sunshine, I felt alive, connected, and fully present.

Sharing the News: A Wave of Love & Support

Once I had confirmation from my oncologist, I was ready to share the news with my closest family and friends.

What followed was an outpouring of love unlike anything I could have imagined.

Flowers arrived at my doorstep. Hugs and happy tears flowed from the parents in my dance group. My former oncologist, who still follows my journey, was delighted to hear the news. Messages of unwavering belief and celebration poured in.

In this moment, I realized something profound: I am not just loved—I am held by an entire community.

This healing did not happen in isolation. Faith, belief, and the unwavering conviction of those around me played a role in my journey. My friend Danielle, my holistic nutritionist, even predicted months ago that by this scan, there would be no cancer left—and she was right.

I know my journey isn’t “done,” but this milestone marks a new chapter—one where I fully embrace my testimony and step into my purpose. My story is not just mine. It is meant to be shared—to inspire, uplift, and ignite the belief in others that healing is possible.

A Symbolic Moment: Floating into the Future

The day after my oncology appointment, I had unknowingly scheduled something deeply symbolic: a floating sound bath at a spa.

Lying on a floating mattress in the warm water, I let the vibrations wash over me. I felt peace, love, and pure energy coursing through my body. It was as if the universe had perfectly orchestrated this moment—a reminder that I am supported, held, and ready to step fully into this next phase of life.

Moving Forward: A Mission to Spread Light

With this newfound energy and clarity, I feel ready to take on the world. I don’t know exactly how my testimony will unfold, but I do know this:

• I will continue to share my story—to uplift and empower others on their own journeys.

• I will expand my healing work, finding new ways to support and inspire those seeking transformation.

• I will stay open and curious, allowing the universe, God, and spirit to guide me in ways I might not yet understand.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of emotions—gratitude, joy, reflection, and empowerment—but above all, I feel ready.

Ready to live.

Ready to share.

Ready to rise.

Because I am healed.

And this is just the beginning.

But life had other plans for us.

At our resort, Iberostar, which caters largely to divers, we inquired about scheduling a snorkeling trip and were presented with an unexpected opportunity: a discovery dive. In just a few hours, we could train in the pool and then head out into the deep blue to scuba dive 40–60 feet down, experiencing the reef in a way we never imagined. It was an instant yes.

A Lesson in Strength and Surrender

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have some initial hesitation. On paper, I might seem like a fragile being—stage IV cancer, metastases in my bones and lungs, and scoliosis to consider with the weight of the scuba gear. My ever-cautious, loving mother voiced her concerns, and for a brief moment, I questioned myself too.

But then I remembered: I am incredibly strong. I trust my body.

So, I let go of the doubt and leaned into trust. And I am so glad I did.

Beneath the surface, I swam alongside gigantic sea turtles, stingrays, and vibrant schools of fish—a world so breathtaking, so alive, so indescribable. There’s something profoundly beautiful about being in the deep water. It demands presence, vulnerability, and surrender. And that’s exactly where the magic happens.

I know this won’t be my last dive. Who knows? Maybe getting fully certified is in my future.

Reflections on Life, Love, and Entering My Next Chapter

As if the week wasn’t already full of blessings, I entered the final year of my 30s feeling incredibly loved. I spent a spa day with my best friend from kindergarten—a gift for both of us. That quality time and deep relaxation were nourishment for our souls, a reminder of how important it is to slow down and cherish the people who’ve been part of our journey for a lifetime.

And now, as I sit with all these reflections, I prepare for another moment of surrender.

Tomorrow, I have my follow-up PET scan—my first since last May. Though doctors encourage scans every 3–4 months, I’ve chosen to move on my own timeline. This is my body, my decision, my healing.

For me, this scan isn’t just about whether the cancer is growing or not. It’s about honoring the immense work I’ve done—physically, emotionally, and spiritually—over the past year. Last time I had this scan, I was barely scratching the surface of my healing. Now, I know I’ve stepped into something deeper.

And just like in diving, this is another practice of surrender.

No matter the results, I trust. I trust my body, the universe, and the purpose behind it all. I know I am supported. And I know that beauty happens when we let go.

Traveling across the world to Asia isn’t something most people decide on a whim. It’s the kind of trip many spend years dreaming about, carefully planning each detail. But for me, it wasn’t about checking off a bucket list—it was about saying yes to life.

I had always longed to travel but often found myself caught in the cycle of routine. I would take a trip here and there when the opportunity presented itself, but rarely did I prioritize it. When my cousin and friend decided in November to take the leap and go to Thailand, I knew this was my chance. Something inside me said, Go. Just go.

And so, I did.

Letting Go & Embracing Change

This trip wasn’t just about visiting new places—it was a lesson in surrender. I packed light, something completely out of character for me. Normally, I overpack as a way to hold onto a sense of security and control, but this time, I embraced minimalism. I trusted the journey.

Of course, travel comes with its hiccups. I had a moment of panic at the airport, thinking I had lost my phone, and I even left my luggage at the ferry dock. But each time, I reminded myself to let go. The universe always provides, and things have a way of working out.

At first, I struggled with stepping away from my daily health routines. Back home, I carefully curated everything I put into my body, questioning ingredients and prioritizing my healing regimen. But in Thailand, I gave myself permission to live. I stopped asking about seed oils. I stopped overanalyzing meals. Instead, I leaned into the experience, trusting that my body was strong and more than deserving of this adventure.

Immersion in Thailand’s Beauty & Culture

Thailand is a place that captures your heart the moment you arrive. From the vibrant energy of Bangkok to the serenity of the islands, every day felt like a dream.

We started in Bangkok, diving into the full experience—touring the Grand Palace, navigating the bustling weekend and night markets, indulging in mango sticky rice from street vendors, getting late-night foot massages, and dancing at a rooftop bar with breathtaking city views. The energy was intoxicating, but I was ready for something slower.

In Chiang Mai, I felt a shift. We stayed in a tranquil garden resort and visited an ethical elephant sanctuary, where we fed, bathed, and played with these beautiful creatures. We dined on the water at peaceful restaurants, explored endless markets, and took on adventure days—climbing Sticky Falls and waterfall climbing. The balance between stillness and adventure felt just right.

Then, we made our way south to the islands. Koh Samui was a quick stop—just long enough to visit the Big Buddha—before heading to Koh Phangan, where I experienced something truly profound.

The Healing Power of Orion

From the moment I arrived at Orion Healing Center, I knew I was home.

There was something about the energy, the like-minded people, the slow and intentional way of living—it resonated deeply. Each day, I started and ended with yoga, allowing myself to be challenged physically and mentally. The food was nourishing and vibrant, and I felt completely in tune with my body and spirit.

One of the most profound experiences was a Kirtan circle, where my cousin and I sat in a room filled with high vibrations, love, and connection. It was one of those moments where I felt completely alive.

At night, we slept in a jungle bungalow under a mosquito net, waking to the soft sounds of birds. In the mornings, we sipped green juices overlooking the water. It was simple. It was beautiful. It was exactly what I needed.

Symbolism & Transformation

As our time in Thailand came to an end, we found ourselves in Koh Samui once more, soaking in the beach vibes. What made it even more special was realizing we were leaving just as the Chinese New Year celebrations were beginning. The symbolism wasn’t lost on me—this trip had been a rebirth in so many ways.

I had let go of fear. I had embraced trust. I had allowed myself to fully live.

Between the three of us, we captured over 2,000 photos and videos, documenting every magical moment. We called ourselves “The Happy Three” because, truly, we were. And as we sat together on that final night, reflecting on everything, we knew—this was only the beginning.

Returning Home with a New Perspective

Coming home was a whirlwind—jumping back into life, work, celebrating moms birthday, starting up a new season with my special needs dance group, catching up with friends, yoga teacher training, and even a follow-up appointment at Hopkins. But something in me had shifted.

I wasn’t just living for the big adventures anymore. I could feel it in my bones—life was going to keep getting better. Not because of extravagant trips, but because of the mindset I was carrying forward.

Still, after all the movement, I knew I needed balance. And so, as I settle back in, I prepare for the next chapter—Mexico.

What’s Next: Finding Balance in Mexico

Unlike Thailand, this trip will be about slowing down. Mike and I are escaping for some sun-soaked days, quality time, and a break from schedules. After months of movement, I’m embracing the beauty of stillness.

Because that’s what life is about—the balance between adventure and rest, between movement and stillness.

And I know, without a doubt, that the best is still to come.

As I sit and reflect, it’s incredible to think about how much has changed in a year. At this time last year, I was immersed in learning how to optimize my health and wellness to navigate life with stage four metastatic breast cancer. It was a time of discovery—understanding how to heal my body, nurture my soul, and create a life where I could not only survive but thrive.

As the months unfolded, I began to find balance and align with my most authentic self. I made a conscious decision to say yes—to new opportunities, new experiences, and to life itself. I stopped focusing on the barriers that had once felt insurmountable and chose to trust in the power of manifestation and divine guidance.

The Power of Saying Yes

This shift in mindset has been nothing short of transformative. I’ve come to realize that we truly can create and cultivate the life we desire. It starts with believing in the possibility, trusting in the process, and opening ourselves to what the universe has in store.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed of traveling the world. Yet, for years, I let perceived barriers hold me back—finances, work demands, time. But now, I understand something so simple yet so profound: time is precious. It’s the one resource we can never replenish. We don’t know how much of it we have, and we can’t afford to keep waiting for the “perfect” moment. The time is now.

A Dream Realized: The Trip of a Lifetime

Next week, I’ll embark on one of the biggest adventures of my life—a journey halfway across the world with my cousin and my good friend, Sara. What began as a casual conversation just six weeks ago has blossomed into an extraordinary plan: two weeks of exploration, immersion, and deep connection.

We’ll start with a shared adventure, embracing the beauty of a new culture—visiting sacred Buddhist temples, savoring the local cuisine, and soaking in the vibrant energy of a place entirely unfamiliar yet deeply inspiring. Then, my cousin and I will split off for something truly special: a yoga and wellness retreat on one of the islands.

This trip represents so much more than a passport stamp or a check off the bucket list. It’s a celebration of saying yes to life, a testament to the power of intention, and a reminder that healing happens not just through routines and regimens but by following the call of the soul.

Balancing Routine and Freedom

Admittedly, stepping away from the health routines that ground me feels a little daunting. I’ve worked so hard to build a regimen that supports my body, from mindful eating to daily practices like strength training and meditation. But I know this trip is equally important for my healing.

There’s something profoundly restorative about giving yourself the freedom to truly live—to step outside of the familiar and immerse yourself in the unknown. I’m choosing to trust that this adventure will nourish me in ways that routines cannot, offering healing for my spirit, growth for my mind, and memories for my heart.

Gratitude for the Journey

As I prepare to take this leap, my heart is full of gratitude. I’m thankful for the courage to say yes, for the beautiful souls in my life who inspire and support me, and for the opportunities to create experiences that will stay with me forever.

I can’t wait to stand in awe at the foot of ancient temples, to taste the flavors of a new culture, to flow through yoga sequences with my cousin on an island paradise, and to simply be—fully present in the gift of this experience.

A Reminder to Live Fully

This trip is a reminder that life is not about waiting for the perfect conditions. It’s about embracing the imperfect, trusting in the journey, and giving yourself permission to say yes to what lights you up.

Reflection Questions

1. What dreams or desires have you been putting off, and what steps can you take to say yes to them today?

2. How do you balance the structure of your routines with the freedom to explore and live fully?

3. What does living authentically mean to you, and how can you align with that vision?

A Glimpse at My Health Journey

Recently, I received the results from my latest HTMA (Hair Tissue Mineral Analysis) testing, and the improvements have been nothing short of remarkable. After a year of targeted supplementation and intentional lifestyle shifts, I’m thrilled to see significant progress in my body’s healing:

• Healthy calcium-magnesium and calcium-potassium ratios: These improvements signal a more balanced mineral system.

• Improved sodium and potassium levels: A key sign of healthier adrenal functioning. My adrenal burnout has been reduced by half compared to my previous test.

• Heavy metal detox: My body has been actively “dumping” toxins like iron, manganese, aluminum, and mercury, which represents a major step forward in clearing out burdens that have hindered healing.

• Brain pattern shifts: My results showed seven anchor patterns, indicating improvement in the shape of the brain’s sulci—particularly in the area associated with language processing. This suggests the development of a new and healthier brain pattern.

While I’ve made tremendous progress, there’s still more to refine. My next steps include working on increasing oxygen in my tissues and cells, supporting overall cellular function, and continuing to balance mitochondrial health. At this stage, the focus is on filling in smaller gaps, maintaining open drainage pathways, and continuing to clear toxins effectively.

I also completed a full thyroid panel to ensure everything is functioning optimally, and I’m grateful to see that everything is on track.

I owe so much to my good friend Danielle Hively, a root cause practitioner and nutritionist, whose guidance has been instrumental. She has not only provided me with concrete supplementation protocols but has also addressed my emotional and spiritual needs. Danielle’s reminder that “less is more” has helped me trust the process, let go of fear, and live with optimism and faith that my body has the capacity to heal.

Additionally, my oncologist remains hopeful and optimistic. I agreed to a follow-up PET scan after the new year, and she believes we’ll have confirmation of good results, showing that everything is continuing to work as it should. This progress has also allowed me to begin spreading out some of my regimens to reduce the risk of medication toxicity—another step forward in finding balance.

Reflections on Balance and Equanimity

This holiday season brought a welcome sense of calm and balance. Compared to last year, I’ve felt more grounded and present, enjoying the season without the overwhelm that often accompanies it. Through daily mindfulness practices, setting boundaries, and staying intentional about how I spend my energy, I’ve found a deeper sense of equanimity.

Some practices that made a difference this year include:

• Breathwork and meditation: Staying anchored in the present moment.

• Gratitude journaling: Helping me focus on abundance rather than lack.

• Letting go of perfection: Allowing myself to embrace imperfection and find joy in simplicity.

This shift has been profound, not only for my holidays but for my overall approach to life.

Lessons from Another Year

Every year brings its challenges, but this one has taught me the value of surrender. Trusting the process, even when the path is uncertain, has been one of the greatest lessons. The progress I’ve seen—both in my physical health and emotional well-being—is a testament to faith, persistence, and the power of aligning with what truly matters.

I’m deeply grateful for the support of my loved ones, the healing wisdom of practitioners like Danielle, and the spiritual guidance I’ve received throughout the year. These connections remind me that we are never alone on this journey and that healing is as much about connection as it is about personal effort.

Looking Ahead

As I move into the new year, I remain committed to refining my health, sharing my journey with authenticity, and holding space for others to explore their own healing. Whether through my work practice, workshops, or writing, my mission is to inspire others to live with joy, balance, and passion.

To anyone navigating their own healing journey, I hope my story reminds you that every step forward matters. Trust your body’s wisdom, lean on your community, and keep faith in the process.

Here’s to a new year of growth, healing, and light for us all.

With love and gratitude,

Nicole

Discovering Kundalini Yoga

Over the past year, I began integrating Kundalini breathwork into my mornings. The style of yoga, with its focus on energy work, chakra balancing, and spiritual awakening, immediately resonated with me. It wasn’t just about physical movement; it felt like a reclamation of my energy and spirit.

In September, the universe brought me to Yoga Farm Ithaca, which was beginning a virtual Kundalini Warrior yoga teacher training. Feeling called to this opportunity, I applied for a scholarship and was humbled and grateful to receive it. Since then, I have been fully immersed in the rich teachings of Kundalini yoga—exploring ancient traditions for healing and restoring energy, developing new habits, and integrating these practices into my life.

But just as I thought this was the sole focus of my journey, another door opened. The owner of the yoga studio I attend encouraged me to join their 200-hour yoga teacher training, which started in October. While unexpected, the timing felt divinely orchestrated. The stars were aligning, and I knew I needed to be there.

Embracing the Journey

Being part of these two transformative trainings simultaneously has been remarkable. The Kundalini Warrior training connects deeply with my soul’s purpose—teaching me how to restore and balance the energy that cancer has challenged within my body. Meanwhile, the 200-hour training has grounded me in the physical and communal aspects of yoga, creating a space for connection with my fellow yogis and helping me rediscover a sense of embodiment and movement.

These experiences have reaffirmed something I’ve always known deep down: yoga is not just exercise. It is a way of living and being. It is spiritual, emotional, and energetic. It draws from every faith, honoring a higher power and the interconnectedness of all beings.

Kundalini, Healing, and Cancer

Living with metastatic breast cancer has taught me that healing is not just physical—it’s emotional, spiritual, and energetic. Kundalini yoga has a unique way of addressing all of these layers. Its focus on breathwork (pranayama), movement (kriyas), meditation, and mantra helps unlock stuck energy, restore balance to the chakras, and create harmony within the body’s energy systems.

Cancer often brings a sense of disconnection—from your body, your identity, and sometimes even your spirit. Over the last decade, I felt that disconnection profoundly. I lost touch with my own body and drifted away from the path I was meant to follow. Yet, Kundalini yoga has helped me reconnect to myself—to my body, my soul, and the divine guidance that is always present.

What’s remarkable is how Kundalini aligns so naturally with my childhood passion for movement. As a dancer, I always felt most alive when I was moving. Now, years later, I see how the flow of energy through movement is essential not just for joy but for healing. This practice feels like a homecoming to myself, a stripping away of all that I am not, and a return to my truest essence.

Trusting the Divine Path

Although I didn’t plan for this to be my path, I can now see how everything has led me here. Living with cancer has taught me to surrender to divine timing and trust that I am always where I need to be. These trainings, this community, and this spiritual journey are all part of a greater plan—not just for my healing but for my growth into the person I am meant to become.

I don’t know where this path will take me, but I do know that it feels aligned with my highest self. Every breath, every movement, every connection brings me closer to my purpose. I am so grateful for the guidance of the universe and the opportunities to learn, grow, and heal.

For anyone reading this, I hope my journey reminds you to trust where life is taking you. Even in the uncertainty, there is wisdom. And even in the challenges, there is healing.

The car ride offered an unexpected gift—an opportunity to connect with Marta, the retreat host, and two other attendees, listening to their rich life experiences. This time together allowed us to bond and share our hopes for the journey ahead. As we arrived, unexpected changes to the itinerary challenged us to be flexible, patient, and surrender to whatever came. Over our first meal, we discussed the retreat’s expectations, heard stories of past silent retreats, and felt a sense of camaraderie in being with others who consciously chose a healing path. It was refreshing to be among people who shared this deep desire for growth and introspection.

That night, as I settled into my room, I was filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness, like a child on Christmas Eve. I set an intention to be open to whatever the universe wanted to show me, to deepen my connection with myself and the beautiful Costa Rican jungle. Santa Teresa, part of the Nicoya Peninsula, is one of the world’s Blue Zones—a place where people live exceptionally long lives. I felt the opportunity to live by its secrets: slowing down, savoring fresh food, walking mindfully, and embracing a simpler life. With no personal agenda, I focused on rest and fully surrendered to the experience. Marta’s villa, overlooking the lush, green jungle, was a place of pure beauty—a perfect setting to feel alive and connected to nature.

Day 2: Deepening Awareness

I woke up to the sounds of the jungle, unsure of what to think or how to feel without my usual morning routines. Opening my curtains to a breathtaking view, I felt curious about how the day would unfold as we embraced our first full day of silence. Our 8:30 AM yoga practice by the pool marked a slow and gentle start. I took in the sight of butterflies, the sounds of the jungle, and the peaceful stillness of others reading, sketching, or simply being. Though we were silent, the chorus of insects was louder than any background noise I’d known.

Throughout the day, I had the urge to check my emails or get lost in the outside world, but I resisted, reminding myself to disconnect. During breakfast, I felt like a child practicing silence, with a mix of awkwardness and inner giggles at the quiet. Yet, as I sat there, I noticed how everyone was mindfully eating, savoring each bite. Without words, gratitude radiated from our small group, and I felt deeply content, peaceful, and grateful.

Later, we practiced a Metta loving-kindness meditation, where I sat by the pool and gazed into the jungle, feeling truly seen. Tears welled up as I cultivated compassion for myself and others—a feeling that my body, heart, and soul deeply needed. I felt sensations release through my spine and body, experiencing a warmth that seemed to rise from within. As the meditation ended, I noticed beautiful butterflies fluttering around, feeling a deep appreciation for the life all around us.

A silent walk down to the beach with a few other attendees brought a childlike sense of curiosity as we explored without words. Although I hadn’t planned to swim, I couldn’t resist the call of the ocean, diving in and returning to the villa soaked and content. We concluded the day with a sound bath meditation, and as I laid there, I felt a profound connection with the vibrations and sounds. Our final evening yoga session was a calming end to this first day of silence. That night, I reflected on how slowing down allowed me to savor each moment and how my sankalpa, or resolution, emerged clearly: “I am healed.”

Day 3: Confronting Inner Dialogue

On the exact date of my cancer recurrence a year ago, I woke at 4:50 AM for a mindful walk down the dirt road in the pre-dawn light, heading to the beach for sunrise. It felt symbolic—a conscious choice to embrace life fully. The 3-hour walk, surrounded by howler monkeys and vibrant life, was filled with awe and gratitude for nature’s beauty. As I witnessed the early risers and surfers of Costa Rica, I felt alive and deeply connected.

During morning yoga, a butterfly landed on my water bottle, staying still for a long time. Then, another remarkable moment while closing our orange with breathwork, a monarch butterfly graced me, landing first on my right, then my left chest—a reminder from the universe of my unique path and the healing taking place within. It was a moment of divine confirmation, and it filled me with an indescribable joy.

Later, Marta surprised me with a gift—fresh soursop, a fruit known for its cancer-fighting properties. Tears came to my eyes as I received this thoughtful gesture, realizing how much the universe was providing for me on this journey. This was followed by an intense Reiki session, where energy surged through my body, releasing deep emotions and bringing me to tears. As I embraced the energy and allowed myself to feel it fully, I affirmed, “I am safe. It is okay now.”

Marta later shared that she had a thought come up during our session that my path was not ordinary because I’m extraordinary. Her words felt like another profound confirmation of the path I was on. Although she had warned that the second day of silence could be the hardest, I felt more settled into the quiet, embracing shared meals and the company of others in a new way. That evening, we meditated on the beach at sunset, surrounded by a scene of pure bliss, and ended the day with a powerful resolution: “I have everything I desire.”

Day 4: A Shift in Perception

By Day 4, I noticed a significant shift. The silence no longer felt like a challenge but a companion, inviting me deeper into my inner world. I woke up before sunrise, embracing the rhythm of early mornings with a sense of ease and presence. As I prepared for my own sunrise adventure, felt an inner stillness growing, a sense of being in sync with the natural world around me. The jungle sounds, the morning light filtering through the trees, the fresh air—everything felt alive, and I was truly a part of it.

During our morning yoga practice, I felt more attuned to my body than ever before. Each movement, each breath, became a prayer of gratitude for my body’s resilience, for the life force within me that had carried me through so much. I could feel my mind quieting, thoughts no longer racing, and instead, there was space—room to simply be. As we transitioned from one pose to another, I caught glimpses of my fellow retreat participants, each lost in their own world, yet together in the shared experience of silence. It was a reminder of how connected we all are, even without words.

After breakfast, I sat by the pool, watching the sunlight dance on the water. I found myself contemplating the concept of presence—what it means to truly inhabit each moment without the distractions of the mind. This retreat was teaching me that the present moment holds everything we need if we are willing to be fully there with it. I felt a lightness in my heart that I hadn’t felt in years.

That evening, Marta led us through a sunset meditation on the beach. As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink, I felt a deep release within me, as if the colors themselves were washing over my heart. The ocean’s waves seemed to carry away any remaining tension, leaving me with a profound sense of peace. Walking back up the path to the villa, I realized that the silence had become a sanctuary, a place where I could hear the whispers of my soul.

Day 5: Finding Inner Peace

Day 5 arrived with a sense of lightness, as if a weight I hadn’t even realized I was carrying had been lifted. I thought of all the moments I had been hard on myself, all the times I had pushed through pain without giving myself permission to rest. Tears flowed freely as I allowed myself to fully embrace the softness and warmth of self-compassion. I let my thoughts drift, contemplating what it means to heal from within. My journal filled with reflections on the past year, my journey through metastatic breast cancer, and the unexpected gift of these days in Costa Rica.

I felt waves of gratitude wash over me. Gratitude for my body, for the healing journey, for the beauty of this place, and for the silence that had helped me reconnect with the parts of myself that I had forgotten. It was a time of deep inner peace, a feeling that I wished I could bottle up and carry with me forever. I whispered a prayer to the universe, asking for continued guidance on my path, for the strength to keep healing, and for the courage to live each day with an open heart. I felt a sense of surrender and trust that whatever comes next, I am ready.

Preparing to Return to the World

On the final day of the retreat, a bittersweet feeling filled the air. There was a quiet understanding that our time in this cocoon of silence was coming to an end. I had come to Costa Rica with hopes of healing, and I was leaving with a heart full of gratitude and a renewed sense of purpose.

As we broke the silence, words felt foreign at first. It was strange to have permission to use our voice again, but there was also a warmth in reconnecting with others through conversation. We shared our experiences, our insights, and the transformations we had felt during our time in silence. I listened as others described their own journeys, feeling a deep respect for the courage it takes to sit with oneself in such an intimate way.

I knew that while I was leaving this beautiful retreat behind, the stillness I had found within would come back home with me. I whispered a quiet thank you to the ocean and to the jungle for holding space for my healing.

As I packed up my things, I realized I had found what I came for—a deeper connection to myself, a renewed faith in the journey of life, and a reminder that the answers we seek are often found in the silence within.

Reflections & Takeaways

This silent retreat was a gift beyond measure. It taught me that silence is not the absence of sound but a space where we can hear our truest selves. It is in this space that we find clarity, healing, and the courage to face the parts of ourselves that we often hide away. I learned that healing is not a linear process—it is a dance between light and shadow, between releasing and receiving. I found a deeper connection to nature, a renewed appreciation for the simple beauty of each moment, and a trust in the wisdom that arises when we create space for it.

One of the most profound lessons I took away is the power of self-compassion. Being alone with my thoughts, I realized how often I had been my own harshest critic. In silence, I found the opportunity to soften, to forgive myself, and to embrace the imperfect journey of being human. I also learned that healing is not something we do alone. While we each had our own paths during this retreat, the shared experience created a sense of community and connection that was deeply nourishing.

Conclusion: A Call to Stillness

As I integrate back into the rhythm of everyday life, I carry with me the quiet wisdom of the Costa Rican jungle, the whispers of the ocean, and the gentle guidance of the sunrises that marked each new day. This retreat was a reminder that beneath the noise of our busy lives, there is a place of stillness within us all—a place where we can reconnect with our truest selves and find the answers that we seek.

My hope is that my experience inspires others to find moments of silence in their own lives, to listen to the quiet places within, and to trust in the healing that can come when we make space for stillness. Whether through a retreat, a quiet walk in nature, or simply taking a few minutes to sit in silence each day, may we all find our way back to the peace that lies within.

We first met in our early 20s, just two friends enjoying life. We went our separate ways, each embarking on our own paths, but fate had other plans for us. Just under two weeks after my separation from my ex-husband last March, I ran into you. It felt like a serendipitous moment that led us back into each other’s lives. We spent that summer reconnecting, talking, and hanging out as friends—confused but comfortable, calling each other “bro” and enjoying our friendship without pressure.

I was in the midst of becoming officially divorced, navigating grief and healing, and I knew I wanted to embark on a spiritual journey. My nervous system felt so unsettled; I wasn’t sure what direction life was taking me. We took things slow, letting our connection grow organically. But when I was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer around this time last year, everything changed. That very weekend, we verbalized our love for each other.

Despite my fears, and the voice of my anxious-avoidant attachment telling me to push you away, you stayed. I told you that you didn’t have to face the uncertainty of a cancer journey with me, that I was strong enough to handle it on my own, and I meant it. I’ve always been the self-sufficient, strong woman, pulling into my masculine energy to protect myself. But you chose to stay. You chose to support me, not just through my diagnosis but through every transformation and new chapter I’ve experienced since then.

You’ve allowed me to be seen and loved in my most authentic form. You’ve stood by my side through everything—through my divorce, my healing journey, and all the ways I’ve evolved. Our relationship is unique. On the surface, we might not appear like the traditional couple, full of public displays of affection, but what we have is a deep respect, knowing, and care for one another. Our love doesn’t need constant words or physical touch to be expressed; it’s in our actions, in our unwavering support for each other.

One memory that stands out is the first time you came over for dinner. You brought Dunkin with you. I was kind of known for not being a dog person and certainly never thought I’d allow a dog into my home, but you were very matter-of-fact that she was coming along. I was already falling in love with her sweet soul, and when you confidently left her dog bowl behind, noting that you two would be back, I realized something was changing in me. Who would’ve thought that I would not only welcome a dog into my home but eventually love having her live here? Dunkin is now such a perfect part of our little love triangle. She has been instrumental in my healing journey, serving as an emotional support animal, and I feel so blessed to have her by my side every day.

Moving in together was a big step for us. We both deeply value our own space and independence, and merging our lives felt like a leap of faith. But we knew the separation wasn’t sustainable, especially with my cancer journey—it was becoming exhausting managing everything on my own. Initially, we thought the solution was for me to sell my house for financial freedom and move in with you. That was the plan for months, but by July, we realized there was another way. You made the choice to rent out your house and move in with me, completely changing so many aspects of your life and routine for us.

We’ve only had about two weeks to adjust to our new normal as roommates, and here I am at a silent meditation and yoga retreat, taking time for introspection. As I reflect on this transformative year, I want you to hear it loud and clear, in front of my readers: I truly respect and value you. I’m grateful that the universe has led our paths to one another, and I’m excited for what lies ahead.

We’re coming from a healthy place, both of us post-divorce and having learned from relationships that did not bring us joy. We are committed to each other, but we are also committed to maintaining our independence and staying together only if it continues to serve us both. This healthy non-attachment brings us peace, and while none of us knows what the future holds, I have a deep knowing that we are meant to be in this chapter together.

Thank you, Mike, for choosing me, for accepting and loving all of me, and for walking this path with me. I’m so thankful for our beautiful, unique love story, and I’m excited for all the adventures still to come.

As I embark on this silent journey, I find myself filled with gratitude—for you, for Dunkin, and for the beautiful path we are walking together. I hope this weekend brings me deeper clarity, and I look forward to sharing that with you when I return.

It’s no coincidence that this retreat is a silent one. When I first received my diagnosis last year, I initially chose silence. Two of my best friends were getting married that weekend, and I wanted to show up for them fully, carrying the weight of this life-changing news quietly, hiding behind a mask of joy for others. Now, I have five days for myself—immersed in the lush green foliage of Costa Rica—to finally turn inward, nourish my body, and reflect on all that has unfolded.

This retreat is a space to be still, to meditate, to practice yoga, and to nourish my body with Ayurvedic food. I’ve decided to fully detoxify and disconnect, going off the grid, away from social media and all outside communication. It’s a true chance to give my mind the space to deepen in meditation and reflect on the massive journey I’ve experienced over this past year.

The idea of this retreat first came to me in the winter. I remember manifesting it, imagining the peace and healing it could bring. My Reiki practitioner asked me, "Why can’t this be a reality?" and helped me not just visualize it, but feel it in my body as if it were already happening. And now, here I am, living what I once only imagined.

Some friends and family find it amusing that I—a self-proclaimed extrovert and social butterfly—would choose a silent retreat. But I’m genuinely looking forward to this challenge. I know it will be both difficult and rewarding, a necessary chapter to bring my year-long healing journey full circle.

I am so proud of my body and its incredible capacity to heal. This truth has been affirmed by my latest bloodwork, showing my lowest cancer antigen marker yet—13 units, a remarkable decrease from nearly 50 in January. My oncologist reminded me that the goal isn’t necessarily to reach zero but to be within a normal range, and I am confident that with time, I will continue to see even more improvement. This progress is proof that the body can heal when everything is in alignment, when we live in tune with our soul’s truest purpose.

I believe we are all here for a reason. Life is about learning to return to our most authentic selves and fully embody who we are meant to be. My diagnosis was a harsh wake-up call—a signal that I had drifted away from my path, disconnected from my body, my spirit, and my connection with the divine. Now, I feel blessed to have reconnected with my inner energy, to experience enlightenment, and to live more consciously.

Over the past year, I've practiced letting go and creating space for the new. I’ve made new agreements with myself, releasing old stories that no longer serve me, and allowing my light to shine fully in service of others. I’ve deepened my love and strength for myself, and I’ve found love in every moment, every experience, every person I meet. I’ve learned to find joy and purpose in each day. I've discovered a new way of thinking, living, breathing, and being.

I am excited to continue this journey forward, helping others find their path as well. I can’t wait to return from this retreat and share this transformative experience with you all—my readers, my community. Thank you for being part of this journey with me!

Shortly after my return, I found myself drawn to a women’s spiritual and ancestral healing retreat in Tulum, Mexico. There, I connected with incredible women from all walks of life, each on their own unique journey. This experience was transformative in ways I never expected. Through deep healing, connection, and a rebirth of sorts, I tapped into my inner goddess, discovering a new level of self-expression and power. I came home ready to continue evolving, feeling renewed and more aligned with my true self.

What’s become so clear to me throughout this journey is that the universe is always communicating with us—sending signs, offering guidance—if we just stay awake and open to receive. Leading up to the retreat, during a Reiki session, my practitioner had visions of a goddess. It was no coincidence that the retreat was focused on connecting with our inner goddess. It felt like a divine confirmation that I was exactly where I needed to be.

In another incredible experience, I attended my first psilocybin microdosing retreat at a clinic in Florida. The messages I received during this retreat were powerful—snakes, rebirth, and a deep longing to reconnect with my ancestral roots and the natural world. It felt like a spiral of signs, each leading me to new beginnings and chapters in my life. The Mexico retreat, set in the beautiful jungle, allowed me to immerse myself in nature and experience the healing power of animal medicine. It was a profound reminder of the beauty of the land, the creatures, and the universe’s intricate guidance.

As for my health, I’m happy to share that it remains stable. I’m sticking with my current treatment plan while continuing to cleanse and balance my body, supplementing for mineral balancing, and clearing out toxins and pathogens. I’ve learned that healing isn’t just about the body—it’s about aligning the mind, body, and spirit. I’m focusing on the entire “terrarium” of my being.

This summer has also brought new connections, new opportunities, and new openings in my life. I’ve embraced the power of staying open—trusting that the universe always has something beautiful in store for me. It’s been a season of deep healing, growth, and transformation, and I can’t wait to see what comes next.

*Resort photos captured by the amazing and talented Gali! 📷 check her out: https://bio.site/galiduart

We were so blessed that she documented our whole weekend journey together from start to finish and have the beautiful memories to look back on!

Retreat hosted by the beautiful Morgan https://snipfeed.co/sol_embodied

Resort was held at Dora Jungle https://www.dorajungle.com