Liminal Leadership

February 1, 2026: Week 41
Imbolc · Full Snow Moon

This week marked a quiet but profound realization for me: I do not need to hold the world together. I only need to hold the center.

As I stand here at Imbolc—halfway through winter, under the Full Snow Moon—I can feel the truth of endurance in my bones. I have endured the past year in ways I never imagined I could. Through heartbreak and long, unlit nights. Through days that stretched endlessly, carried only by tears, journals, and the simple determination to make it through one more hour. There were moments when the future felt unreachable, and yet something in me never went out.

That inner fire banked itself intelligently. It became embers. Then a small flame. And now, here, it burns steadily—not loudly, not desperately, but reliably.

I see now that the version of me who said yes while her hands trembled is still here. The woman who trusted herself without proof. The woman who leapt not because she was certain, but because staying would have extinguished her. That woman carried me through 2025. She showed me that I can remain coherent even when everything familiar dissolves.

This year ahead holds uncertainty. The business. Patty. Outcomes I cannot predict or control. I feel both urgency and patience coexisting within me, and the liminal space between them is real and heavy at times. But I no longer mistake that weight as something I must carry alone.

I understand now: coherence is my work.

When I hold my center—when I remain aligned in my body, mind, and spirit—the world organizes itself around me. I do not need to brace. I do not need to manage every outcome. I do not need to carry the future on my back. I orient, and life responds.

2026 will test this. I know that. But I also know I am ready.

Not because I am fearless.
Not because I have answers.

But because I trust myself to meet whatever comes from the center of my own truth.

I don’t hold the world together.
I hold coherence.
And that is enough.