There are seasons when life quietly invites us to loosen our grip—not because our dreams were misplaced, but because they are still becoming.

That is very much where I find myself these days.

The twists and turns of recent months have continually invited me to listen more deeply, soften, and allow my path to evolve rather than insisting it look a certain way. Again and again, I have found myself choosing what feels most alive, most aligned, and most in harmony with the natural unfolding before me.

One of the clearest reflections of this has been the upcoming pilgrimage to Egypt.

When the journey first began taking shape, I quietly felt that it belonged in the spring. Even so, I remained open and moved with the timing that initially seemed to support everyone involved.

Recently, through an unexpected series of logistics surrounding permit scheduling and a deeper revisiting of the journey we originally envisioned, the dates shifted—and rather beautifully, the journey has found its way back to that very season.

There is something deeply meaningful about watching the path gently return to where my heart first sensed it belonged.

It has reminded me that life often sees farther than we do.

When we loosen our attachment to a single outcome, we become receptive to the unseen currents already guiding us toward something even more harmonious than we could have arranged ourselves. What appears to be change is often life quietly returning us to a deeper rhythm.

Perhaps that is why flexibility has become such an important practice for me.

Not because I no longer care how things unfold, but because I have come to trust that what is truly aligned rarely needs to be forced into place. Sometimes it simply asks us to remain open enough to recognize it when it arrives.

It simply finds its way home.

The day before we left for Yosemite this past week, this feeling was reflected back to me in an unforgettable way. While riding in the passenger seat and working on something connected to the changes unfolding around Egypt, an enormous Golden Eagle suddenly appeared beside the car, gliding alongside us in full, magnificent view. I hadn’t seen one in many years, and his unexpected presence felt like a powerful confirmation arriving at precisely the right moment.

I was reminded of this again the following day during our return trip to Yosemite. What began as plans for three days of camping became a last-minute decision to simply go, feel it out, and allow the journey to become what it wanted to be.

In less than twenty-four hours, we drove to the National Park, climbed steep rocky trails to 11,250 feet beneath ever-changing clouds, followed rushing creeks and waterfalls, encountered marmots, discovered Great Horned Owl wing feathers and an ancient metamorphic stone resembling brilliant rainbow stained glass, and soaked in our campsite just like the peaceful doe that wandered by it twice, while watching a single shooting star cross the dark New Moon eclipse sky—a meteoroid burning through Earth’s atmosphere. Thunderstorms arrived during the night, and by morning it was clear our three days had become one.

Yet nothing felt missing.

After a perfect raven feather appeared, the rain paused long enough for one final hike filled with wild blueberries to feast on and two Amanita muscaria appearing almost as if the forest was offering its own farewell. The most enormous one appeared literally seconds after I said, “I know one is waiting.”

We drove beyond the park gates just as the rain and hail began again.

Nothing unfolded as originally planned, yet the experience felt complete.

There is a particular freedom in allowing our plans to remain in conversation with life—holding our intentions while leaving enough space for life to answer in ways we could never have arranged ourselves.

The more I live this way, the more I am reminded that we have always belonged to something immeasurably greater than ourselves. Somewhere along the way we began to imagine ourselves separate from the living world—apart from the rivers and mountains, the wild creatures and changing seasons, apart from one another, from our own hearts, and even from the Divine moving through all of life.

Yet nature never seems to forget this relationship.

The bear never questions whether it belongs.

The rabbit never wonders if it has earned its place.

The coyote moves naturally within the circle of life.

The hawk rides the unseen currents above, trusting the wider view.

The marmot greets each summer day with simple contentment.

The deer drinks quietly from the creek, completely at home in the present moment.

The grouse moves softly through the forest floor, trusting the shelter and rhythm of the land beneath her feet.

The butterfly opens its wings to what it has become, never questioning the transformation that carried it there.

The duckling follows the gentle current, held between instinct, water, and the quiet presence guiding them forward.

Mountains do not strive to become anything other than mountains, and wildflowers bloom without asking whether their timing is right.

Even the stars, the Sun, the Moon, and the planets move in quiet relationship with one another, each held within an unseen order that allows the whole to remain in harmony while each remains uniquely itself.

Perhaps our deepest harmony is found in remembering that we, too, belong to this living conversation.

That is why wild places have always felt so sacred to me.

Nothing in nature asks us to become more. The mountains, the rivers, the forests, and the stars simply receive us exactly as we are. In that quiet welcome, the layers we don’t even realize we are carrying begin to gently fall away.

One of the greatest gifts of wild places is that they do not tell us who we are.

They quietly remove everything that isn’t until all that remains is the quiet truth of our own heart.

Life might be quietly offering countless ways of meeting this very moment.

Maybe we have not forgotten who we are.

Only what we belong to.

It feels especially fitting, then, to finally share that our 2027 Egyptian pilgrimage has now found its own new rhythm.

Our new journey dates are April 4–21, 2027, and along with the shift in timing, the journey itself has evolved in ways that feel even more aligned with what we originally envisioned.

What was once planned for a larger group of ten has become an intimately and privately curated pilgrimage for just four participants. We have moved away from the constraints of a larger company and a more tightly structured itinerary to create something with greater freedom, depth, and spaciousness—allowing us to listen and respond to the journey as it unfolds.

This has opened the way for lesser-visited temples, more unique accommodations, two private cars and drivers, more relaxing and immersive time at the places we visit, and a much deeper opportunity to connect as a small group. There is something about the intimacy of four that feels beautifully suited to what we are creating—a more personal, family-like experience with the freedom to flow rather than feeling we need to move according to a larger group’s rhythm.

Even the shape of the pilgrimage has changed. What was originally a twelve-day journey with optional excursions afterward has expanded into a fully integrated eighteen-day experience. Rather than adding something onto the end, we will begin with a beautiful and gentle landing beside the ocean in Hurghada, allowing time to arrive, settle, connect, and open into the journey together. From there, the pilgrimage will gradually deepen as we move through Egypt, ultimately concluding with our sacred private ceremony inside the Great Pyramid before departing.

In many ways, it feels as though the journey itself has been asking for exactly what this season of my life has been teaching me—to loosen the structure enough for something richer to reveal itself.

Our revised itinerary and all of the latest details have been thoughtfully curated to reflect these changes and the deeper nature of what this pilgrimage has become.

The Early Bird savings have also been extended through September 9th (9/9), offering $500 USD off the pilgrimage when you reserve your place with a deposit on or before that date.

With this pilgrimage intentionally curated for just four participants, two spaces are currently being held for those who have already expressed their intention to join us. This means there may be only two spaces remaining for this intimate journey.

There is something I especially love about these new dates, too.

We will journey through Aries season, welcoming the Aries New Moon while immersed in beautiful Hurghada and allowing all that we experience to integrate as we approach the beginning of Taurus season. Our two-hour private entrance into the Great Pyramid will take place beneath the Full Pink Moon in Scorpio, creating a powerful closing to the pilgrimage and the work we have shared together.

None of it was planned this way, yet somehow it feels as though the journey has always known where it wished to be.

If this pilgrimage has been quietly stirring something within your heart, I would be honored to share the updated Journey Itinerary with you and answer any questions you may have.

Sometimes the places we are most deeply called to are not waiting for us to find them.

They have been patiently finding their way back to us all along.