A time where we are drawn into the life that’s been slowly calling us. ❤️

A season where happiness is no longer postponed.

Sovereign love is chosen without apology.

And a woman invites more pleasure, more truth, and more joy—on purpose. ❤️

It is a time when we stop shrinking,

apologizing,

or waiting for permission—

and start living fully alive. ❤️

We are no longer disappearing.

We are no longer playing small to make others more comfortable.

We are reclaiming our voice, and our joy. ❤️

I believe in loving the heck out of yourself—maybe for the first time…

in waking up to your worthiness, beauty, wisdom, and radiant truth…

in honoring the messy, magical, and magnificent parts of your journey. ❤️

I believe healing happens when we slow down,

open our hearts, and listen beyond our ears.

Our truth is excavated when we choose ourselves again and again…❤️

I believe that acceptance happens when we trade perfection for presence

and shame for self-love…

when we let go of control and choose trust…

when we exchange hustle for harmony. ❤️

I believe in walking barefoot in nature,

crying when your heart needs to release emotions and fear…

and laughing loudly with women who see your soul. ❤️

I believe we are here to rise together, not alone.

To be mirrors, muses, and midwives for each other’s rebirth. ❤️

I believe in gatherings that awaken your spirit…

food as medicine that nourishes your body…

circles that hold you in your emptiness and wholeness,

and loving words that remind you who you truly are. ❤️

I believe…

The life and love you’re longing for is already within reach.

It’s not about becoming someone new.

It’s about remembering the woman who you’ve always meant to be. ❤️

…

If this manifesto spoke to your heart, I created a beautiful printable version for you.

You can place it on your mirror, tuck it in your journal, and read it whenever you need a reminder that you are not invisible, you are becoming. You are worthy.

Download your copy of the Happiness Manifesto for Midlife and Beyond here.

Lots of love, Shelley ❤️

It’s true. I remember learning this at an early age and thought ‘how can this be?’

How many times have you discovered something only to find out that it’s not a new thing….it’s just new to YOU? It’s just wearing different clothes.

This is the beauty of being a seeker.

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote extensively about the journey of life mattering more than the end goal.

T.S.Eliot said— “The journey, not the arrival matters.”

I say that someone who has a desire to keep on learning, exploring and seeking the unknown is a courageous human getting uncomfortable.

Every day we wake up to a new day ~ it promises to be like no other ~

But here’s the thing that makes it different… it’s our attitude.

Our attitude,

our outlook on life in every moment,

is the secret to living with awe and wonder each day.

What happens between the sun rising and the sun setting ~ those are the bookends.

But what happens in the middle is exclusively up to us.

Our attitude determines our altitude ~ and in that I mean, we get to choose our frequency and vibration because it’s based on how we feel,

what we allow into our minds,

and then the steps we take along our journey ~

AND we really don’t have to know where we are going.

The secret to our journey is allowing…

Allowing for the unknown to show up by opening up our day for a pause, moments of ecstasy…

Trusting that the best of life will show up when we do.

When I’m in bed looking back on my day, I’m always surprised. Because in the mornig when I woke up, I had no idea what was going to happen.

We never really know what the day will bring.

We can plan, let God laugh, and then, well, we can surrender to a higher power and knowing ~ the one who has our back at every turn, and trust that it will all work out.

When I wake up in the morning I’m now doing a brand new morning routine. and it feels good to switch it up because it renews me.

I often have things on my agenda, AND

I try to leave room for the ‘butterflies to land’…

because this is where the magic happens,

where the unexpected synchronous moments unfold…

because we left space for them.

A journey can be months, or it can simply be one day at a time.

Nonetheless, I love it when the unexpected happens!

The surprises may shift our day in ways that we didn’t plan, but when you believe that everything happens for a reason, it can be delightful.

The one caveat is…

we must let go of control.

That can be the hardest part of any day, and yet, it can be the most wonderful because we are allowing life to flow.

To live a fulfilled life really isn’t about where we are going, or the destination that we feel we need to get too.

It can be as simple and quaint as letting go and letting life flow like the river…

Less resistance, less control.

This is where the awe and wonder has space to show up and keep us wondering…

What else am I here to love, learn and lean in to?

If this love note touched something in you, I’d be so grateful if you’d restack it or share it with someone who may need this reminder today. Sometimes one little message can find a heart at exactly the right time. 💛👑

For more heart-led inspiration, soulful practices, and gentle reminders to come home to yourself, visit my website and receive my free Happiness Manifesto for Midlife Women & Beyond.

Receive it here.

I wasn’t.

I was preparing to leave my life.

As I let things go…

it wasn’t just “stuff” I was sorting through.

It was pieces of me.

Childhood belongings with dust on them, photos faded from the ‘60’s.

Old relationships. Lost lovers...

Motherhood and marriage as it once was...

Versions of life I thought would last forever...

Some days I cried. A lot.

Some days I resisted.

Some days I felt relief… and then guilt for feeling it.

Because letting go?

It’s not clean.

It’s deeply layered.

When Ordinary Things Hold Entire Worlds

There was one moment I remember vividly.

I was in the garage, getting rid of most everything, when I pulled out my brother’s baseball uniform and cap from a worn-out cardboard box.

And just like that… I wasn’t in my house anymore.

I stood there frozen in time, holding what was left of a boy, a season, a family before loss split us open.

His name was Steve.

For decades, my dad had kept that uniform wrapped in old newspapers. Not because it was just a uniform, but because it belonged to an eleven-year-old boy we loved, a season we could never return to, and a son he had already lost.

And then he passed it on to me.

My brother had been gone for thirty years.

Thirty years.

And still, standing there with his uniform in my hands, I could feel him.

He was my hero. My big brother. The one I looked up to, chased after, measured myself against, and competed with for my father’s attention more than I ever understood at the time.

We were kids.

We loved hard.

We wanted to be seen.

And somewhere inside the ache of that memory, I could still see us taking picnics to Topanga Canyon, carrying our little childhood selves into the wild beauty of the day, not knowing how precious it all was.

Not knowing how fast life could change.

Not knowing one day I would be standing in a garage, holding his baseball uniform like it was a doorway back to him.

A Doorway Back to Him

I could see his sweet face. His small frame. He was only eleven.

And then I was back at the neighborhood ballfield.

A nine-year-old blonde girl who loved watching her brother play baseball.

My dad coaching from the sidelines.

The sound of summer in the air.

Family still whole.

Everything still ahead of us.

Before grief had a name.

Before loss entered the story.

Before I knew a simple uniform could hold an entire world.

And somehow…

all of that lived inside a cap and a uniform.

I stood there for a long time.

Because it wasn’t just fabric in my hands.

It was tragedy.
It was love.
It was loss.
It was the ache of a life that never got to unfold.

That’s When It Hit Me

Material clutter can be more than just an unnecessary burden.

Sometimes it becomes a stronghold.

A place where grief hides.

A place where memory waits.

A place where the past keeps asking to be held, even when our life is begging us to move forward.

Here’s What No One Tells You

• Letting go doesn’t mean you’re ready. It means you’re willing.

• Willing to feel it.

• Willing to grieve it.

• Willing to release what no longer fits… even when it still matters.

So let me ask you something—

… is this really the life you want?

Are you living it now?

Or are you still holding onto pieces of a life that no longer exists?

Are you waiting for the proverbial ‘some day.’

Just notice what you feel in your body. Notice what you feel in your heart.

Because sometimes…
the truth is the first thing that sets us free.

With lots of love…

PS If this story opened a memory in you, or reminded you of something your own heart has been carrying, I’d love to welcome you into my world.

On my website, you’ll find more soulful reflections, gentle self-love practices, and my free Happiness Manifesto for Midlife Women & Beyond — a beautiful reminder that even after loss, change, and letting go, joy can still find its way back to you.

Receive it here.

That’s when we need reassurance the most… because when clarity is nowhere to be found, it’s easy to feel lost without direction.

It’s not that we always need clarity…but at this moment I was desperate.

I felt like I was getting down to the wire and I had no idea which direction to go in.

I felt sad, and frustrated. I felt homeless once again.
The stress and anxiety that things wouldn’t work out wasn’t letting up.

My heart longed for a lifeline.

I’d even be open to a knotted rope just to hang on because life was slipping away as every moment passed.

I found myself in the depths of despair navigating the death of my father; my last parent to be alive.

Selling my mom and dad’s family home of 50 years…

working with and learning how

to soulfully engage in sibling relationships during these heart wrenching times.

AND I would say that I am presently sitting in the unknown,
with my belongings in storage and not knowing where I am going to live next.

I’ve had so much life practice of being in the space of uncertainty that it didn’t feel as threatening as it used to.

I continued to be patient… for days that turned into weeks; sitting in silence and waiting for spirit to speak.

I felt as if I had no choice but to trust that the path will unfold in divine order.

A Divine Whisper

Previously, I experienced heart guidance as a soft nudge — a divine whisper like a soft breeze. But now, nothing was coming.

I listened, trusted, and stared blindly into the future… and somehow over time, small ideas were revealed and life began to stitch them into something bigger.

This is how I’ve witnessed uncertainty turn into a promising path forward… and ordinary moments become miracles.

New Crossroads

Every time I reach a new crossroads, no matter where I am in life, geographically, emotionally or spiritually…

I return to four steady soul anchors.

1. I listen for Spirit.

2. I follow the inner prompting of my heart.

3. I trust in the highest good for all.

4. I constantly expand my faith beyond its current dimensions.

And lastly, I hold my higher purpose steady — (even if I am unsure of what it is) and then I wait. Patiently. No forcing. No resistance. Being open to receive.

Waiting For A Sign

This morning, I opened my inbox and found such sweet reassurance.

It felt like an omen — in the best way. A reminder of truth… words in perfect divine alignment with exactly what my heart needed to hear.

You know those messages?
The ones that don’t feel random at all.

The ones that feel meant for you. I was able to take a deep breath and lean in to trusting the outcome…whatever it will be.

Perhaps the words I’m about to share will speak to you too.

Try to see if you can read them and hear beyond your ears…

consider reading them more than once…and lean in to the soft message of love.

One more thing that helps me to trust the flow during difficult times is to trust how life is occurring.

That the change is for me, not against me.

Change is the best thing that can happen for us.

“May God give you startling clarity about His plans for you in the days ahead.

May you find utter joy in His presence because He fully enjoys you!

When He sets the plow a little deeper in the soil of your character, may you refuse despair.

Instead, may you know that in Christ, there is never any condemnation; only an invitation. When God corrects and redirects it’s because He’s about to do a NEW thing.

So lean in.

Listen with your heart.

Do what you hear spirit says to you.

Respond in faith.

And trust

Know that God’s will for you is your best-case-scenario.” Susie Larson

Psalm 16:11 ~ You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

If this resonated, I’d love to know. Feel free to leave a clap, a heart, or a comment.

I’m proud of you.
You’re doing better than you think.
You are deeply loved.
I want what’s best for you.
You don’t have to carry it all alone.

So often, we move through life giving so much to everyone else that we forget to offer ourselves the very thing we need most.

We forget to acknowledge ourselves. We forget to speak with love. Yet a few kind words can soften something deep within and gently shift our thinking from self-criticism back to compassion.

Of course, it feels beautiful to hear these words from someone else.

And sometimes, the most loving thing you can do is ask for them.

You might say, “Would you say this to me? I really need to hear it.”

And also… say them to yourself… in front of a mirror if you can.

Out loud, if you can.

Write them in your journal.
Post them on your mirrors.
Let them become part of the way you care for your own heart.

And yes, tell the people you love what words would mean the most to you. They can’t read your mind, sweet soul. Sometimes love deepens when we let ourselves be known.

Here’s a short little story about the beautiful impact this practice can have.

When I was living in Boulder, women would gather together and circle at my daughter’s home. One of the exercises we did stayed with me long after the circle ended.

It touched something deep in me and left me wanting more of this kind of tenderness, more of this kind of truth.

Here’s what happened.

We sat in a circle, and the facilitator asked us to speak aloud the words we had been longing to hear — the words our hearts had needed, but that had gone unspoken.

As we went around the circle, each woman gave voice to something tender, something deeply human, something that had quietly lived inside her for a long time. It was an expression of longing, yes… but also of truth.

These are a few of the words that were shared:
You don’t have to carry it all alone.
Keep writing.
I love you.
Please hold me.

Then we were asked to repeat those words back to one another. I’ll never forget the silence that followed.

It wasn’t empty. It was full… full of feeling, full of softness, full of something sacred settling into the room.

It felt like a huge sigh… an exhale of love.

Because sometimes it’s not advice we’re craving.
It’s not fixing.
It’s not someone telling us what to do.

It’s being seen.
It’s being held.
It’s hearing the words our heart has been longing for.

There is something deeply powerful about giving voice to what the heart has been carrying in silence.

If this landed in your heart, tap the ❤️ so I know you’re here.
And if you feel called, restack to share the love. Lovely, we don’t walk this path alone. 💛👑—What is life asking you to practice right now as you come home to yourself?

When someone dear to you, someone you deeply love,

is just a breath away

from their final exhale,

it’s heart wrenching…

And yet there is tenderness in my reflections, sitting beside his hospital bed in our childhood home during his final days.

The slow sorrow wants to teach our hearts something…

It’s time to express our final goodbye…but how can you?

There are no words for many of us, just silence of the heart.

When Death Comes Slowly

Some visitors came to see Dad and they cried, longing for him to stay,

yet knowing they must part ways.

It was the same ache living in all of us...

My mind shifts to wanting wanting Dad to be out of his pain and yet,

he’s letting go oh so slowly…

No one can know his souls path as he ascends further and further into the light.

He tells us of the people surrounding him in his auric field…mom, brother Steve, angels…all peacefully waiting to escort him.

As he lay there, almost lifeless, I ask myself, “ is he having conversations with God?”

I think I understand how much I’m going to miss him…

but do I really?

My heart hurts and his slow suffering, feels painful right now.

Am I going to feel better or worse after he’s gone?

Will I sigh a breath of relief, or be frozen in time with shock that my father’s gone.

The Agony of Loving and Releasing

The impact on everyone losing him, the patriarch of our family, the one who bought us all Tilly hats as a remembrance of him, now feels beyond devastating,

My heart cries out ‘ no more death in our family please.’

It feels as if everyone in our family is dying; my sister first, then mom, then another sister…now dad,

I ask God ‘when will it end?’

Our hearts, worn thin with sorrow, can barely hold on.

And yet, I know, we must all find our way to get through this time.

Together is better because we are stronger. To be held in our pain with others somehow softens the sting.
I’m feeling grateful for the family I still have.

I love you Dad ❤️💫 and I am forever here for you.

We will all miss you, oh so tenderly, with endless songs in our hearts.

And somehow, with grace, compassion and love we will carry on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If this spoke to your heart, I’d be so grateful if you’d tap the heart and share your thoughts in the comments. 💛👑

Shelley Marenka | Self-Love Sage | Ageless Alchemist ✨

So let this be a love note to yourself— kindly signed by the Universe and your own wise nervous system:

It is more than okay to simply be.

If you’re craving something deeper than a fresh start, follow the stillness of the inward pull — into clarity, presence, and the beautiful truth of who you already are.

Today, I’m not here to invite you to hustle into a new identity.
You are already beautiful, exactly as you are.

Instead, I’m gently inviting you to soften.
(This is what I am choosing for myself, too.)

Take a slow, full breath that reaches all the way down.

Unclench your jaw.

Drop your shoulders. Maybe even a bit lower.

Let your belly be soft and honest.

You are safe here. You are enough here.

Breathe…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m so grateful you’re here. Thank you for reading, for sharing your heart, and for being part of this space with me. If this spoke to you, I’d love to hear from you in the comments. 💛👑

Be who you are.
Be who you are because you are a sacred gift to the world.
Be who you are because no one else carries your voice the way you do.

You are the one.

Be who you are when fear tries to convince you that safety lives in silence.
Be who you are even when your voice trembles,
especially when it feels scary...

“There’s risk involved in putting your true self out in the world. But I believe there’s even more risk in hiding.”
— Brené Brown

And it’s true...

You begin becoming who you were meant to be
when the cost of staying the same
becomes greater than the fear of change.

So speak your truth
confidently and surely,
like the sun rising at dawn.

Let yourself be seen. Especially when it feels scary.

This is where your confidence grows ~ its from the courage it takes you to be you.

Withholding yourself is a form of self-abandonment—

a cage you’ve outgrown,
a limit on your freedom and becoming.

Living truthfully loosens the knots
that have kept you stuck.

Each time you share what is real over what is expected,
you return to yourself.

And being yourself is self-love in action.

You become more of who you are
each time you practice telling the truth,
each time you let yourself be seen,
each time you trust
that you are already good enough.

And perhaps this is what self-love truly is...

not silencing your voice,
not doubting your worth,
not pretending to be someone else,
not shrinking.

But loving without limits,
beginning with yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’m so grateful you’re here. Thank you for reading, for sharing your heart, and for being part of this space with me. If this spoke to you, I’d love to hear from you in the comments. 💛👑

“I've learned that clarity doesn't arrive all at once; it unfolds the moment I stop fighting where I am.” — Shelley

If you've ever felt like you're waiting for clarity — that perfect moment when everything finally makes sense — this note is for you.

Sometimes life asks us to stand in the middle of uncertainty.

Not to solve it. Not to “figure it out.”

But to be with it.

To feel it. To breathe into it.

To trust that the way through isn't always a straight line — and that's where life actually lives. 

These past several months, I've learned this firsthand. There have been seasons of uncharted territory — emotional, logistical, even spiritual — where I didn't know the next right step or how the story would unfold.

I realized something powerful along the way:

We are never lost. We're just learning to sit on the bridge between what was… and what's coming. 

Here's what I've discovered about navigating the unknown with resilience, presence, and even grace:

🌟 1. The Unknown Isn't the Enemy

Our brains want certainty — a map, a plan, a timeline. But life doesn't always hand those to us.

And that's okay. What feels uncomfortable is actually where growth happens. The bridge isn't a waiting room — it's part of the journey. 

🌿 2. Peace Comes Through Presence

You don't need all the answers right now. You just need to show up for what's in front of you — with curiosity instead of fear.

Sometimes, quiet grounded presence is the greatest compass of all. 

💛 3. Your Heart Always Knows

Even when your mind is busy recalculating, your heart has its own intelligence.

Trust it. Your intuition doesn't keep you stuck — it gently guides you forward.

🌸 4. Everything Teaches You Something

Every uncertain stretch, every pause, every shift — it's training you to live with more courage, more softness, more trust in life and in yourself. (Medium)

So if you're in that space right now — where direction feels fuzzy, where questions outnumber answers — know this:

This is not a sign that you're behind. It's evidence that you're becoming.

Uncertainty isn't a pit stop. It's your current classroom. Your launch pad.

Your invitation to breathe deeper and love yourself through what you don't yet see.

And in that tender space between what was and what's next?

That's where clarity grows.

Right where you are. 🌱

With love and presence 💛

Shelley Marenka 💛👑 | Self-Love Sage | Ageless Alchemist ✨ Midlife & beyond: overlooked → on fire ✨ https://flow.page/smarenka

P.S. I'm currently pouring these reflections on uncertainty and clarity into my upcoming book, Beyond Invisible.

I'd love your voice in the mix—tell me in the comments: where in your life are you learning to be at peace with not having all the answers right now? 

We so often fixate on what we don’t have.

On what hasn’t shown up yet.

The sharp-edged hurdles that rise up to meet us the moment our eyes open.

Untended, the mind slips home to that familiar place—scouring for scarcity, for what’s overdue, for the fog of what-ifs.

It’s not a flaw; it’s wiring. Our brains learned long ago to spot the saber-tooth first, and only later—if ever—the sunrise.

But here’s what I’ve learned:

If I don’t consciously interrupt that ancient pattern, I can miss the quiet miracles unfolding right in front of me.

I forget. I flounder. I slip into victim instead of victor, into “I can’t” instead of “I can.” It’s a downward spiral once it takes hold—and soon enough, it starts to feel like the only truth.

But when I manage to shake myself awake, back into a kinder reality, then I begin to notice…

The flowering plant quietly bloom​ing in the corner of the room.

The child walking hand in hand with her mother, small fingers trusting and sure.

The unexpected aroma drifting in—warm, alive, from somewhere just out of sight.

The soft grass beneath bare feet, cool and grounding, reminding me I belong here.

We don’t forget to live because we’re lazy.

We forget because we’re distracted.

Busy.​

Managing.

Thinking.

Planning tomorrow while today slips away.

And then a day folds quietly into a week. A week blurs into a season.

Seasons ​c​ome and go, unnoticed,

until life starts to feel routine…and strangely colorless.

Like a photograph left too long in the sun—faded, familiar, but missing its original light.

A few years ago, I began shifting this in a small but intentional way.

When I wake up, before I reach for anything external, I pause. I notice the light spilling into the room.

The warmth of the bed still holding me. The quiet that hasn’t yet been filled.

Sometimes I step outside barefoot—even if the air bites—and let it wake me fully.

I breathe deep. I look at whatever landscape greets me and let gratitude rise, not as performance, but as simple awareness.

A warm shower. A comfortable bed. A roof overhead. A view that makes me stop.

Then I open my journal. Three things. That’s all. Three things I’m grateful for.

Some days they’re small and ordinary. Some days they’re quiet breakthroughs.

Some days they’re the hug that carried me through something hard.

Gratitude isn’t denial of the difficulty—it’s recalibration. It turns the volume down on the noise and up on what is steady and good.

And something subtle happens when we practice it consistently: We begin seeing more to appreciate.

If I complain, I get more of the same.

When I praise, life is raised.

Not because the universe is punishing or rewarding me— but because my attention shapes my experience. What I look for expands. What I linger on grows.

So today, before the routine claims you, before the headlines or the to-do list rush in…

Pause.
Look around.
What is already here that is beautiful?

What small miracle are you willing to notice today?

Start there. Just notice.

And let it change the color of everything that follows.

Shelley Marenka

| Self-Love Sage | Ageless Alchemist
Midlife & beyond ~ from invisible to → worthy, radiant and fully alive

Start here: Free Happiness Manifesto

When I opened my eyes, my body felt heavy.

My mind foggy. I was in ‘don’t talk to me mode’…

I walked down the stairs ‘going slow’. (something I recently learned while in Belize)

And as I looked out the window, something inside me whispered,
Just go outside. It will wake you in a way caffeine cannot.

So I did.

I stepped barefoot out my front doorstep.

At first, the porch feels soft beneath my feet.
Then the brown winter grass tickles my inner arches.
And then… gravel.

Tiny rocks press and pinch.

I tell myself, I can do this. It’s not going to kill me. I can walk on sharp little stones for a short while. I can endure discomfort for 50 feet until I reach the prairie grasses.

After all, we can do almost anything for a little bit, can’t we?
Walk on fire.
Slip into a 36° cold plunge.
Hold our breath.
Sit with hard emotions.

So why not walk on tiny rocks?

The prairie grasses are drying now. It’s been a few weeks since rain, but they still feel soft. Forgiving. Welcoming.

I’m going barefoot not just because it feels good — though it does — but because I’m conducting a study on myself.

Do you ever do that?

Choose a new habit. Try something different. Then check in a few weeks later and see what has shifted?

I love this practice of awareness. It brings intention to everything we do.

A Sacred Exchange

Grounding — or earthing — is simply walking barefoot on the Earth. Snow. Fresh green grass. A dirt path in the forest. Padding across a pine-needle floor. It’s all connection.

A friend once said,
“When we go outside barefoot, our feet kiss the Earth.”

I always thought it was the other way around — that the Earth was kissing my feet.

But maybe it’s circular. Mutual. A sacred exchange.

And that’s how nature truly is.

Yesterday I heard someone say that living in cities like New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, or London can make finding nature feel like a luxury.

I’ve been blessed.

God has always given me His best. He knows how much I rely on nature for my nervous system regulation, for my joy, for my happiness, for my connection to Him.

Even my little 10-pound Shih Tzu, Holly, is always grounding. Her paws are constantly connected to the Earth. Even in the house she slides joyfully across the wooden floors, chasing toys with reckless delight.

Animals and nature are a direct line to the heart.

What Holly Knows

“Come on, let’s go!” I holler at Holly.

Sometimes when we reach the prairie paths — about 30 feet wide — she walks a short way and then suddenly turns around. As if something unseen is lurking in the tall grasses.

She senses something. And she refuses to move forward.

So as I’m writing this, I turn back to get her. She’s heading in the opposite direction of where I planned to go.

Animals are curious. And instinctual.

I honor that in her. I don’t know why she turns around at that exact spot — but I let her instincts teach me.

The Earth as a Teacher

For the past couple of weeks I’ve been intentionally earthing. Connecting physically to the Earth in a conscious way.

For me, this is sacred.

As sacred as morning pages. As sacred as prayer.

The Earth feels like a vessel into my soul. It inspires me.

I start dictating words into my phone as they come, trusting that whatever wants to be said will find its way through me.

I take a long, slow exhale.
Breathing out.
Breathing in.
Breathing out again.

Some call this meditation.

For me, this morning, it was a deep exhale for my entire body. An invitation for the Earth to teach me whatever lesson was waiting.

I catch up with little rascal Holly. She’s sitting at the apex of the path, waiting.

I ask her which direction she wants to go.

She chooses the exact opposite of where we were headed.

Such is life with our heart compass.

We want to go one way. We want life to unfold according to our plans. Our preferences.

Our soul may walk with us for a while.

But eventually… it redirects.

Our intuition is everything. Over the years, as I’ve learned to trust mine, I’ve found it to be the most reliable part of me.

The Whisper in the Butcher Shop

Let me give you a literal example.

Yesterday, Holly and I drove to our local butcher about 12 miles outside town. Country roads. Twenty minutes of open sky and prairie horizon.

Dusk here is magnificent. The sunsets stretch wide like Montana’s Big Sky — bright colors melting into soft land, the sun blessing everything as it lowers.

I went to pick up marrow bones for bone broth. While ordering, I added a few extras. Bacon. Ribs.

When the assistant handed me the bag, something inside whispered:
Look inside. Make sure it’s right.

When I Didn’t Listen

The whisper was subtle — easy to dismiss.

And I dismissed it.

I smiled, took the bag, and Holly and I drove home beneath that wide prairie sunset, unaware that a small lesson was riding in the backseat with us.

Generosity Lives Here

When I unpacked the heavy brown bag, I discovered a massive package of beef ribs labeled $56. Not what I thought I’d ordered.

So I called. He said, “Come back. I’ll make it right.”

When I returned, the owner himself came out. He apologized. Said he had an assistant in training. Instead of issuing a simple credit, he handed me a large brown bag stapled shut with my name on it.

“I put together what you ordered,” he said, “plus a few extras. I appreciate you driving back.”

When I unpacked it at home, I was stunned.

More bones. Extra bacon. Ribs. Real hot dogs for Holly (sometimes I eat them too).

And tucked inside — $55 cash.

It wasn’t a mistake.

It was generosity.

If I had listened to my intuition and checked the bag before leaving, we would have resolved it right there.

Instead, I didn’t.

And somehow… I was richly blessed.

He has my business for life.

Three Lessons from the Prairie

Three lessons rose from this simple prairie morning.

First — listen to your intuition. I have yet to see mine steer me wrong. It is your spirit. Your heart. Divine intelligence moving quietly through you. It doesn’t shout. It nudges. And when we honor it, life tends to unfold with surprising grace.

Second — humans are good.

When we treat each other with kindness, something sacred happens. A bridge forms. A small miracle unfolds. We walk away changed — not just because the situation was resolved, but because connection grew where frustration could have lived.

And third — go outside.

Touch the Earth. Step into the grass. Let your feet meet the soil. Let your dog pull you in the “wrong” direction. Let the wind rearrange your thoughts.

We are living in a world that feels loud, fast, and dysregulated on so many levels. Our nervous systems are carrying more than they were designed to carry.

Nature does not demand anything from you.

Animals do not need you to perform.

The Earth simply receives you.

When Holly’s paws press into the ground, she isn’t thinking about productivity or outcomes. She is simply here. Connected. Regulated. Alive.

And when I step barefoot into the prairie, something in me settles too. My breath slows. My shoulders drop. My thoughts soften. The static clears.

Fifty Feet is Sometimes Enough

Sometimes the most profound recalibration isn’t a breakthrough.

It’s 50 feet of gravel.

It’s grass beneath your feet.

It’s remembering that you belong to something steadier than the noise.

Maybe today you’ll try earthing.

Maybe you’ll listen to your intuition and act on it.

I hope something in your day reminds you that you are loved — by something rooted in this Earth.

lots of love,
Shelley

P.S. I’d love to know—what has the ground beneath your feet been teaching you lately?
In nature. In life. In the quiet moments when you finally exhale.

Share your thoughts in the comments (and give this a little heart if it lands). Your words have a way of making the path feel wider for everyone walking their own becoming—myself included. 💛👑

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I’m still learning how to live inside grief—grief for my father’s passing, yes… but also grief for the versions of life and self that no longer exist.

He left us parentless, his spirit rising quietly from the living room of the home that held our childhood dreams. I spent three months with my sister, sorting through fifty years of love, laughter, and sibling rivalry — packing up a life that will never quite fit inside boxes.

I began to understand something deeper: loss doesn’t only happen through death.

We grieve identities, seasons, relationships, and futures we once imagined.

Lately, it feels like everyone is grieving something—what was lost, what changed, what never came to be. The world itself feels tender, uncertain, and aching for meaning.

Maybe you’ve felt it too — that foggy, disorienting place where all familiarity disappears, and the ground shakes beneath you.
Nothing makes sense anymore.

You sit there, motionless, staring into space, wondering what happens next.

When the Next Wave Arrived

Once the house was finally ready to be sold, I packed up my life and left LA for Colorado—to be closer to my daughter.

Two weeks after I arrived, I was in my new bedroom at her home, still unpacking and trying to settle into the unfamiliar.

Then the phone rang.

It was my nephew—his voice heavy, slow… the kind of voice that tells you everything before the words even come.

He delivered the words no heart is ever ready to hear — his mom, my oldest sister Susie, had died unexpectedly just a day ago.

The news slammed through me like a wave — another fragile thread torn from our family of eight.

I found myself asking the existential question we all eventually face —

What am I truly meant to be doing with my life now?

It feels like everyone I love is leaving, so why am I still here?

Everything feels surreal, shifting, dissolving right before my eyes.

In the past, when life fell apart, sometimes just getting out of bed felt like a victory. And now, once again, I’m sitting in the the space of grief, uncertainty and change, trying so hard to survive it all.

Here’s the truth I keep returning to: even when I lose everything, I still have my faith. Each time it’s tested, it deepens—growing stronger as I surrender.

My mantra became - Even when I can’t see the next step, the soul knows the way. Trust.

My Heartmap: Rituals That Held Me Steady

There were still days that lingered, when the unknown felt unbearable, when fear got the best of me… but over and over again, life met me where I dared to trust.

While I was navigating these storms, I realized I needed tender landing spaces. Rituals that could hold me steady and become my heartmap… an inner compass to guide me along the way.

Writing—whether in my journal or on the pages of my upcoming book—became my healing space. I could breathe again. I wrote for emotional release, self-reflection, and integration of who I am and where I’ve been.

When I allowed myself time to feel my emotions and express them, I began to glimpse at what my soul had been quietly trying to teach me.

Grief is the great transformer and an opening to love deeper.

Prayer and meditation became sacred bridges—places where those teachings could finally rise and breathe.

Prayer has always drawn me closer to God—we have an intimate, honest conversation where nothing needs to be hidden or explained. It’s where I lay my fears down, speak my grief aloud, and remember that I am not alone.

Meditation opens a quieter doorway. It softens the noise of the world and allows my higher self, my creativity, and a deeper sense of peace to rise gently to the surface. It’s where I listen instead of ask, where stillness becomes a language of its own.

Together, prayer and meditation became sacred sanctuaries—places where my conversations with God were not rushed or polished, but real.

In those quiet moments, my soul found room to breathe, to rest, and slowly, softly to heal.

Taking walks and grounding in nature (often barefoot) were also part of my sacred practices. As I wandered in nature she touched me deeply; her essence inviting me to embody the truth of love and life itself on every level — cosmic, spiritual, physical, mental and emotional. One deep breath can radiate through all of these dimensions.

The outside world began reflecting the untamed wilderness inside me—and in a way I can’t fully explain, it softened what was heavy and made me more grateful to be alive.

In the midst of these practices, my desire to “figure life out” shifted into something gentler: allowing life to land where it may.

Because many mysteries aren’t meant to be solved—only lived.

Where Grief Meets Grace: A Softer Way Forward

As grief arrives and lingers, we’re still discovering every day how to live gently inside it. We can choose faith over fear, love over loss, and peace—even in the middle of heartbreak.

And maybe this is the gift: feeling it all—the ache and the joy, the loneliness and the sweet memories—until gratitude returns us to the simple miracle of being alive.

And yet, even here, peace is possible.

It sounds simple. I know it’s not.

It takes quiet courage to soften the chatter and listen—really listen.

And every loss keeps reminding me of this holy truth:
I get to be here.

Life is a fleeting, breathtaking dance of agony and ecstasy.

And sometimes… when everything else falls away, your soul finally rises. 💛👑

As always… with love,
Shelley 💛👑

P.S. If this touched you, I’d love to hear from you—what part landed most? You can reply to this email or leave a comment below.

Winter arrives without asking us to become more.

It asks us to become still.

Not “new you” energy.
Not hustle or reinvention.

Just rest.

Because winter isn’t here to push you—it’s here to return you.
Back to your body.
Back to your breath.
Back to the knowing that constant output was never the point.

Look outside for a moment.

In a cold, hard winter, things seem like they’ve died… but they haven’t.

They’re resting deeply.

Regaining vital strength. Going underground for a while—so they can bloom anew, return, be reborn, and be experienced all over again.

That is nature’s way.

And love… it’s ours too.

The rhythms of the season live in us—

We’ve just tucked them underneath the to-do lists, the chaos, the deadlines, the proving, the “keep up,” the “don’t fall behind,” the life that happens outside of ourselves.

So let this be your permission slip (signed by the Universe and your nervous system):

It is okay to just be.

Matter of fact… it’s a necessity if you want to be your best self.

Today, I’m not here to ask you to hustle up a new identity.

I’m here to invite you to soften.

Take a breath that goes all the way down.

Unclench your jaw.

Drop your shoulders.

Let your belly be honest.

And feel this truth land gently:

You are allowed to have a season where nothing is “achieved,”

and everything is restored.

Because what looks like stillness is often sacred preparation.

What looks like “nothing happening” is often your roots strengthening.

What looks like “I’m behind” is often your soul whispering,

“Go underground. Regain your life force. We’re blooming again soon.”

So today, instead of resolutions…

choose ease.

Instead of pressure…

choose presence.

Instead of reinventing…

choose resting.

And if all you do today is breathe, drink water, and let your body know it’s safe to slow down…

That’s not falling short. That’s coming home.

Winter doesn’t ask us to become more.
It asks us to become honest.

Honest about what we need.
Honest about what’s been depleted.
Honest about the wisdom of slowing down.

Rest isn’t falling behind—it’s remembering.
And when we honor the season, we remember ourselves.

What would it feel like to let winter love you back—fully?

If this reflection met you where you are, I’m glad you’re here.

I write for women in midlife & beyond who are learning to trust themselves, honor their seasons, and come home to their worth — one gentle truth at a time.

✨ If you’d like to go deeper, download my free guide:
The Manifesto for Midlife and Beyond
👉 https://flow.page/smarenka

💛 If this resonated, tap the heart or leave a comment — I’d love to hear what stirred in you.

Pause. Not to fix your life. Not to figure everything out. Just to come back to you.

I’ve had my own pauses. (Plural.)
The kind that humble you… soften you… reintroduce you to what matters.

And here’s what I’ve learned: a pause isn’t falling behind.
A pause is wisdom. A pause is a necessity.

A pause is the soul saying, “Let’s do this next part with more heart.”

So today, I’m offering you a little holiday ritual—gentle, and doable. A “quiet minute” that can bring you home—especially if you’ve been caring for everyone else but you.

The 3 Minute Pause

1. Hand on heart.
   Take one slow inhale through your nose… and a longer exhale out your mouth.
   Do that 3 times.

2. Tell yourself the truth—kindly, gently.
   Whisper:
   “I’m O.K. I’m here. I don’t need to rush. I’m allowed to slow down.”

3. Next, choose one loving next step.
   Not ten. Not a whole reinvention.
   Just one.

Here’s a Shelleyism for the season:
You don’t have to do the holidays perfectly or even completely—you just have to care for yourself lovingly through them. You’ll feel better and life gets easier.

Because your well-being isn’t a finish line. It’s a gift.
It’s what allows us to live fully alive—inside our bodies, inside our relationships, inside our real lives.

A gentle year-end reflection (no pressure, just radical honesty)

If you have a journal nearby, choose a few of my favorite year end reflection questions to ponder…

Take what you want, leave the rest.

1) What did this year teach me about myself?
(Just one sentence will do.)

2) What am I proud of—especially the quiet wins?
(The ones no one clapped for, but you know they mattered.)

3) Where have I been shrinking?
(And what would the brave opposite action be?)

4) What do I want to STOP feeding?
(Some ideas—especially if your brain is tired:)

• comparison

• judgment

• excuses

• scrolling

• relationships that don’t give back

• living in the past

• micromanaging family and friends 💛👑

5) What do I want to continue—because it supports my peace?
(Your nervous system gets a vote.)

6) What do I want to begin—gently?
Think habits. Think small. Think sustainable.
Speaking your voice counts. Rest counts. Starting again counts.

7) What matters most to me now?
And… how much time am I actually spending on it? 💛👑

A key principle I live by (and you may want to adopt too)…

Whatever you’re seeing in your life right now is a reflection of your future self.

So if something feels “off,” it isn’t a verdict—it’s information.
You have the remote control. 💛👑

Filter it. Change it. Tweak it. Release it.
Transform it, learn it, or let it go.

A blessing for you (and for us)

May you end this year with softness instead of self-criticism.
May you release what keeps you sheltered from life.
May you create space for what encourages your growth.
May you feel supported—because you are not meant to do life alone.

And if you’re in a season of growth, I’m cheering for you.
If you’re in a season of simply getting through, I’m cheering for you too.
You belong here either way. 💛👑

Let this be your reminder: you are worthy of peace.
And you are allowed to start small and begin again.

With lots of love,
Shelley Marenka 💛👑

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