Season of Stories
There's something about a story, isn't there?
Not just the ones in novels or movies but the ones we carry deep within us. The stories we tell ourselves in quiet moments. The ones we share over coffee. The ones we didn't think mattered until someone paused, leaned in, and said, "Tell me more."
Stories, in a very real way, whether we know it or not, are how we make sense of the chaos of life. They hold our pain, joy, doubts, and becoming. They aren't polished or predictable, as much as we would love them to be. They're full of detours and unsolved mysteries. But something shifts when we start to name them, own them, and speak them out loud. What once felt disjointed begins to take shape. We discover that the very thing we thought disqualified us might be the thing that connects us.
Mental health research confirms what the soul already knows: telling your story is powerful. It can regulate trauma, reduce anxiety, and break cycles of isolation. When we put language into our inner world, we're not just processing but inviting others into it. And suddenly, we're not alone anymore.
This happens all the time in community spaces. Around dinner tables, at small gatherings, in quiet corners. One person says, "This is what happened to me," and someone else says, "Wait… me too." And just like that, something sacred forms between them. You can feel the weight lift. You can feel the room change because stories aren't just how we understand each other. They're how we heal each other.
At the beginning of the year, we declared that 2025 was the "Year of Curiosity," and it still is! The thing is, a year has seasons, even if it's only two. (I'm looking at you, Southern Louisiana!). So now we are moving into the season of the story. It's a season where we invite you to listen, share, and show up as you are. Not because stories tie everything up with a neat bow but because they remind us, over and over again, that we're not alone. That's where healing begins, where transformation takes root, and we all become the healthiest versions of ourselves.
Until our stories cross again...hopefully soon,
Sam