Sometimes, we need gentle reminders that there's light shining on us and our life journeys. Especially right now, with so much havoc and uncertainty arising in the world. When we're feeling weary, or down, it's helpful to notice what's going on above our heads.

As the snow falls for the sixth day in a row, like many of us, I'm tempted to stay inside and ignore the January freeze. However, something nudges me, telling me I'd miss a winter wonderland if I didn't bundle up and at least peek outside my door.

When I gaze outside my window, I see gray skies and endless fog-typical for late November in Belgium. Yet, surprisingly, only last week it was 14 degrees warmer (in Celsius). Time to pull out my winter socks and thick sweaters and brace myself for the cold.

Once again, it is a sunny afternoon here in Belgium. The sight of each bird flitting onto the grass, each autumn leaf swirling in the air, nudges me to become more mindful, and want to trust our human species-and our human condition, no matter how flawed it seems.

In addition to working as a spiritual director and transitions coach, I write and publish books under a pseudonym. It has been seven years since I started writing my third novel, and I'm currently waiting for a potential publisher to say "yes" to my latest revisions and send me a contract.

Like many of my colleagues, I offer online spiritual direction sessions, and each day, 1 realize how lucky I am to be able to work with directees living anywhere in the world. I also realize how fortunate l am to meet regularly with professionals who offer the same services as I do, even though I currently live in Belgium, and most of them reside in other countries.

As a fairly new spiritual director, I was excited to attend the 2025 annual SDI conference in Niagara Falls, New York. I only knew one other person planning to attend, whom I had only met virtually. I was eager yet didn't know what to expect.

Over twenty years ago, while I was living in Japan, I studied Buddhist and Taoist martial arts-qi gong, tai chi, kung fu, and karate-with Chinese and Japanese masters, as part of my PhD research. I am still using the basis of these teachings in my daily life: especially meditation, mindfulness, and a deep appreciation for the natural world and all sentient beings, through the practice of qi gong.

Once again, it's a sunny Sunday afternoon in Brussels. I've just gone for a long walk in the forest with my partner. We relished the cool breeze on our faces as we walked amongst the pine trees in silence. Occasionally, I looked past the tall branches over our heads to glimpse the powdery blue sky and handfuls of clouds poking through, like gifts from heaven.

It’s a hot summer day.

As usual, I took a slow walk in nature today, seeking quiet time and solace amongst the leaves, green grass, and bees buzzing in the wind.

It’s a cool day outside. Although sunlight drips through the pine trees, warming my skin, humidity chills my insides. When I read the news, a similar chill grips me.

As I wrote in my last post, it’s a challenging time for most of us around the world.

The sun is out in Brussels. It’s amazing how warmer weather, and flowers poking through dormant gardens, can make some of us feel better about things.

Around the world, it’s a very challenging time for most of us. Yet seeing a patch of blue sky, surrounded by the sun’s soft yellow light—a rarity in Belgium—can enhance even a gloomy day.

Right before the holidays, I wrote about my decluttering experience in my office. I ended up donating dozens of books to a local charity and felt much better afterward. Life seemed lighter, and more joyful. I concluded the post with these words:

“What I wasn’t expecting was the accident. What accident? With my boxes of books? Don’t worry, I’ll explain it in my next post. Hang on!”

Yesterday, I started my new decluttering regime in full force. I put on my new age music, set the space heater to a comfortable setting, and was raring to go. First, I attacked my office bookcase (which took a few hours since I’ve got hundreds of books).

The rain is pattering outside, while I sit indoors contemplating the drops streaking down my living room window. Have you felt the beneficial effects of contemplating raindrops, rays of sunshine, or snowflakes?

Peering out my kitchen window this morning, I spotted a magpie in the garden. Decked in its regal uniform-silvery blue, black, and white—it poked at the ground, searching for edibles under piles of fall leaves.

As if vexed by my stare, it shrugged its feathers, flapped its wings, and soared off. Anything to escape the chill.

In my previous post, I wrote about taking a Whit Monday stroll through our local park to get some fresh air and inspiration. Nature is a healthy option for combatting stress and fatigue; it nourishes my soul. I wrote about the obstacles, inspiration and discernment I experienced along this walk.

Yesterday was Whit Monday, referred to as Lundi de Pentecôte in French, or Pinkstermaandag in Dutch or Flemish. All shops were closed, and most people didn’t have to work, since it was a bank holiday here in Belgium: a holy day, a time for everyone to rest, gather their families for picnics in their gardens, at the seaside, or local parks.

On my morning walk the other day, I expected the usual greetings from passersby: “Hallo” or “Dag” or “Goeiemorgen” in Dutch (Flemish), but I saw nobody. Instead, my local park’s bare trees, trickling with remnants of icy rain, greeted me. Alone in my surroundings, I pushed ahead, my boots navigating a dirt path through the frosty grass.

Many of us feel a sense of overwhelm when we see Christmas lights, Santas, bustling lines to purchase children’s toys, and a plethora of holiday activities. Some people simply shut down, while lots of us notice a feeling of overdrive in our bodies, minds and spirits. (Note: this can happen with all faith traditions.)