I took this picture a few weeks ago while out walking, and I keep coming back to it.
That morning, the water held both the stormy sky above, and the promise of clearing. Neither fully present, and yet, both completely real. The space between turbulence and calm.
So many of us are living in our own version of this reflection right now—suspended between the normalcy we once knew and a future we can't quite see.
In a culture that's taught us to carry everything individually, to figure it out on our own, to keep moving forward no matter what—there's something radical about pausing in community. About acknowledging that healing doesn't happen in isolation.
The water in this picture couldn't reflect the sky without stillness.
And we can't process the magnitude of this moment—without creating space to pause together.
That’s what we’re building in /the space between/. A community of people navigating the spaces between our most pressing challenges, pain and grief, and a world we envision rooted in joy, connection, and humanity.
We begin July 15.
I hope you’ll join us.
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