Guten Tag, Reader,

How are you? Today. Right Now. Really. Honestly. Deeply.

I’ll go first.

My emotions are like a rocky beach in a secluded cove.

Generally calm. Undisturbed. Harmonious. Content with just being. Aligned with my inner tides and rhythms.

Spending the holidays away from the holidays suits me well. Surprisingly well.

On closer inspection, there is some flotsam strewn across the beach.

Some feelings of grief for people lost and suffering, for holiday dreams that never were or slipped away.

Some yearning for the connections I gave up, knowingly and unknowingly, when I moved far away from the place that not only anchors Christmas for me, as in the knowing of what Christmas is and feels like, but also anchors friendships, as in the knowing of what friendship is and how it feels like to make, have, and maintain one.

And then, high up on this emotional beach, there is the unavoidable trash, added to the ocean by other humans, and washed up during one storm or another, deposited in some nook, lodged between a rock and a hard place, well hidden (to the point one could forget it’s there), and hard to remove.

I am finding guilt, mostly. For things left undone: year-end reviews and reflections unstarted, projects unfinished, emails unwritten. Not enough journal pages, not enough drawing, definitely not enough writing.

You know. The guilt fed by our culture’s signature demand for moremoremore that grips you whether you subscribe to that kind of messaging or not.*

I don’t know about you, but once I’ve found trash on the beach (or the forest, the desert, the river…) I can’t just leave it there.

So, in true 12 Step fashion, I began with Awareness (noticing the trashy thoughts that weren’t even mine), followed by Acceptance (yes, I AM still part of a cultural ecosystem that makes me susceptible to such thoughts), and, only then, Action.

What action? I wrote myself a few permission slips just like I hand them out to my clients all the time:

Permission to NOT

• do the same year-end-review I’ve done for years**
• have a word for 2026 before it starts
• finish each project I start
• start every project that comes to mind

Permission to just be here in Baja California for the moment.

Celebrating that we made it here. That the whales are jumping, the sea lions honking, the vultures circling, the hummingbirds humming, and that we have the time to hike to secluded coves.

After all, I have slowly but surely built a life that allows me to do just that.

So, what kind of permission do you need?

Consider it granted.***

And don’t take the permission lightly, please. Make sure you find the joy in whatever you do with it.

Use it, perhaps, to join me next summer at the Gates of Lodore.

​Learn more here or reply to this email with any questions, concerns, or needs for permission slips.

Tell me:

I will see you back here in two weeks. If you liked this letter, please forward it to a friend.

Always on your side, truly,

* It’s one of those situations where you think you’ve clicked unsubscribe a dozen times, but they keep sending you emails.

** still recommend Susannah Conway’s “Unravel Your Year” if you are looking to try one

*** One of my clients recently asked, “And that’s okay?” when I told her she had permission to do a thing. “Yes,” I answered, “that’s okay. Not by everyone’s standards, but at midlife, we have no time or patience to consider anyone’s standards but our own.”

p.s. If you found something valuable in today's letter, why not buy me a coffee? I am keeping my writing AI-free, which means a lot of creativity goes into it. You can leave a tip for me here.