I want to share something that happened during a moment when I was deeply upset.

I was on the phone with my friend Asha, feeling overwhelmed and angry about the bombing of Venezuela under Trump and the travel restrictions placed on the U.S. Virgin Islands and Puerto Rico. My nervous system was activated—fear, rage, anxiety all moving through me at once.

As I spoke, I stood looking out into the backyard on Herman Hill. I noticed a couple of small yellow leaves drifting down and wondered where they had come from. Then I saw more of those same tiny yellow leaves begin to move together, swirling into what looked like a miniature tornado—a small dust devil of leaves.

What struck me was that there was no wind anywhere else. Everything around it was still.

The swirl grew stronger, more defined, almost intentional. I sat there in awe, asking myself how this was even happening. And then—out of the center of that spinning column of leaves—a butterfly emerged.

The moment I saw it, my heart softened.

I understood immediately.

Even in the middle of chaos—even when life feels like a hurricane spinning around you—there is still space for transformation. The butterfly didn’t appear outside the storm. It came from the center of it.

As I watched this unfold in real time—eyes open, fully alert, speaking it aloud as it happened on the phone—I felt my fear, anxiety, and rage dissolve. Not because the world suddenly felt safe, but because something inside me shifted.

How the Earth Responds When We Feel Deeply

What stayed with me wasn’t just the beauty of what I witnessed—it was the timing.

As my emotions moved, nature moved.

When we allow ourselves to feel deeply—without suppressing, fixing, or spiritualizing the experience too quickly—the body completes something essential. The nervous system reorganizes. Energy that was bound begins to flow. In those moments, the world around us can act as a mirror—not because we are controlling it, but because we are finally in resonance with what is already alive and responsive.

Nature doesn’t rush us. It reflects us.

This is something I’ve seen repeatedly, both personally and in my work with others: when emotion is allowed to finish its cycle, clarity arrives—not always as an answer, but as a knowing.

Staying Present in the Middle of the Storm

What I learned in that backyard was simple and profound: surrender doesn’t mean giving up. It means staying present while everything moves.

The butterfly didn’t wait for the storm to pass. It emerged from the center of it.

If you’ve been feeling caught in your own inner storm—overwhelmed, emotionally charged, or carrying experiences that never quite had space to complete—private sessions offer a quiet, supportive container to slow down and listen to what the body is asking for.

Together, we create space for emotion to move through, rather than remain stored. Often, people don’t come looking for solutions—they come seeking grounding, relief, or trust in themselves again.

And sometimes, it begins with a small moment that changed everything.