Awakening to Gratitude
As we move into November, I find myself reflecting on the sacredness that lives within everything—the seen and unseen, the simple and the profound. This season always invites me to slow down and ask:
What if everything in your life was sacred?
Your breath.
Your heartbeat.
Your relationships.
Your heartbreaks and challenges.
Even the quiet moments of becoming.
All of it—teachers of gratitude and grace.
Recently, I had the honor of teaching in the Sacred Valley of Peru and the Treehouses of Seattle—two very different landscapes, yet both pulsing with the same truth: that life is sacred when we allow it to be.
In the Sacred Valley, you feel the presence of Pachamama—Mother Earth—so vividly it hums in your bones. The energy there is palpable, a deep remembering of our connection to the earth and all living things.
We cooked food in the earth itself, honoring the harvest and the nourishment she provides. (it pairs beautifully with my Harvest Bowl recipe.)
We spent time with the Quechua people, descendants of the Inca, whose warmth and joy opened my heart. We wore their woven garments, danced beneath the open sky, planted trees, and shared in a sacred ceremony that has been performed for generations. Our shaman—descended from Incan royalty—carried the traditions of his father and grandfather, keepers of ancient rituals once held at Machu Picchu.
There was laughter. There were tears. And above all, there was reverence—for the land, for the lineage, for the timeless thread of spirit that connects us all.
In Peru, there is a sacred mystery that moves like the river through the valley—unhurried, trusting, alive. The simplicity there is humbling. And in that simplicity, I found clarity: that less truly can be more. That sacredness often hides in plain sight. That when we soften into gratitude, life itself becomes a ceremony.
Gratitude is not only a feeling we hold in our hearts—it’s something we embody. It lives in the breath, in the feet rooted to the earth, in the hands that cook, hold, write, and pray.
So this month, I invite you to bring your gratitude into motion:
Place your hands on your heart and belly.
Breathe deeply and whisper, “thank you.”
Stand barefoot on the earth and feel her pulse beneath you.
Cook something slowly.
Move your body with reverence.
Notice how the sacred is already here.
As I return home and reflect on the year, I’m carrying this truth with me: Gratitude doesn’t come from perfection—it comes from presence. From allowing every experience to shape us, stretch us, and awaken us to what really matters.
May this month remind you that everything in your life can be sacred—the joy, the loss, the laughter, the learning, and the love that connects it all.
With Gratitude and peace,
