Living with intention is not about what you do, but how you do it. For me, living a meaningful life after loss has been a journey of self-understanding, self-advocacy, and spiritual maturity. I learned that I needed help, and that it's okay to ask for the help you need, especially when your quality of life is at stake. I also discovered this big truth: life is what you make it.

By giving meaning to hardship through words, you can structure a life around your values, your strengths, and your intentions. You get to choose how you show up. I created these affirmations to help us fully inhabit ourselves and our more difficult experiences, so we can tell a story of strength and perseverance.

The newness of another year and another passion inspired me to write a letter to my future self. About all the things I hope for that person: healing, fulfillment, self-companionship. It's an enlightening practice because it sheds light on what matters most this year and right now. May this letter be what you needed to read today.

When we carry the people we've loved in our hearts, in our conversations, and into the work we do and the actions we take, we bring them forward and allow them to not only be an element in our lives still, but to make an impact. In that same way, they bring us forward, toward them. We do this thing, together. We rebuild, together.

My favorite poems about grief do either one of two things: express my own experience in words in a way I never could or call on me to think differently about my experience. It’s a special thing when a poem can do both. Today I’m paying forward a beautiful grief poem written by Denise Levertov. May it call up your compassion the way it does for me.

Over a decade after losing my brother to suicide, I still wonder “Why him?” and grieve for what could have been. We need to be allowed those times, too. We need to say “Let me be angry.” “Let me have this pain.” “Let me find my way through it.” We must be allowed to be real and human. There is always work to be done.

These November affirmations are my tribute to a time of sacred intent and a token of my growing fondness for the journey that links all things. These affirmations are small decisions to carry on with the meaningful and often demanding work you feel called to do. To stay true to the process. To trust in what we love.

This is a prayer for peace for all of us who've known the power of grief and the balm of friendship, who've been touched by the hands of despair but who still choose life. Wherever you are now -- wherever you've been and wherever you're going next -- may you open your heart to the freedom that's still available to you, whatever it is you decide that freedom means for you.