The Horizon Shifted

Week 62 | June 29, 2026

Some weeks ask us to climb. Others ask us to carry.

This week asked me to carry.

It was a week woven with grief, brain fog, uncertainty, and the quiet ache of watching someone I love prepare to leave this world. Helping Patty walk out of the office—perhaps for the final time—felt like watching an entire chapter of my life slowly close behind her. There are no words that fully describe the weight of standing beside someone who has entrusted you with their legacy while knowing the time remaining is painfully short.

I felt scattered. Fragmented. As though each day dissolved into the next without enough clarity to gather myself between them.

And yet…

In the middle of the heaviness, I chose to step outside of my familiar walls.

Tea. Herbs. Oracle cards. Nine women gathered in quiet reflection.

I arrived hoping only to recenter myself.

Instead, I found a doorway.

The card I drew was The Authentic Self.

Of course it was.

It wasn’t a prediction. It was a recognition.

For the past two years, nearly every meaningful decision has asked the same question: What is true? Every answer has led me back toward greater authenticity, deeper integrity, and a quieter trust in myself.

The second card, The Hunter, reminded me that the path forward is not built through force, but through steady devotion. The mountain continues to be built by the walking.

The greatest gift of the evening, however, wasn’t found in the cards.

It was found in the room.

For the first time in a long while, I experienced what it felt like to belong without shrinking. I spoke openly about my own journey, about intuition, about the symbolism of purple, about building Purple Gen from a place of integration rather than separation. Surrounded by women whose lives are rooted in therapy, spirituality, and healing, I didn’t feel intimidated.

I didn’t wobble.

I simply contributed.

And in doing so, I discovered something unexpected.

Belonging is different from fitting in.

Belonging asks nothing of me except authenticity.

Before the evening ended, I was invited into a monthly gathering for women entrepreneurs—an evening of conversation, journaling, and creativity. The theme of their next gathering?

Dreams.

The timing felt almost impossibly beautiful.

As I reflected on the week, several dreams I’ve carried for months quietly braided themselves together.

The Akashic dream of searching for my room.

The strawberry dream whispering that “the seeds are on the outside”.

The realization that I have spent so much of my healing inside the same four walls.

Perhaps those dreams were never asking me to escape my life.

Perhaps they were gently preparing me to expand it.

This apartment became my sanctuary.

It held my grief.

It witnessed my healing.

Within these walls I rebuilt myself from the ground up. The Purple Codex was born here. The Universe of Jen took shape here. Tears fell here. Laughter returned here. Safety slowly stopped being something I searched for outside myself and became something I carried within.

That chapter is complete.

Not because this home failed me.

Because it fulfilled its purpose.

For the first time, I found myself considering that my next home may not simply be closer to the office or more practical for this next season of business. It may become the physical expression of the woman I have become.

Not a sanctuary for healing.

A home for expansion.

As I sat with all of this, another realization quietly settled into my heart.

The horizon shifted.

Not my values.

Not my spirituality.

Not who I am.

The horizon itself.

Life over the coming months will ask much of me.

Patty will eventually leave this world.

Joey will marry the woman he loves.

Businesses will grow.

Websites will launch.

New teammates will arrive.

Grief and joy will continue to braid themselves together, each refusing to wait politely for the other.

Life will happen.

And I will meet it with my gravity intact.

That is enough.

Because the deepest lesson of this week is one I hope I never forget:

I no longer need the world to become safe before I can move forward.

Safety lives within me now.

Now it is time to expand.