Yesterday, madly working on a digital course for an organization that needed it LAST WEEK, I somehow lost both files I was working with. I went to a caf�� to regroup, and while they���d always had a ���dogs are welcome��� policy, the city health inspector just happened to be there���and I was loudly yelled at. I quietly left and went to the lake to decompress. My dog wouldn���t come when I called, and when I finally found him��� he was wearing a proud new coat of heavily aromatic, freshly-deposited horse poop.

I used to believe that truly spiritual people were always calm and peaceful.

I���m not so young anymore, and I still have messy days. I lose my cool, cry in my car, and talk to my dog like he���s my therapist.

For a long time, I felt like I shouldn���t STILL be messy at my age. I thought it meant I hadn���t ���arrived��� yet at some elusive spiritual threshold.

But what if the real spiritual path isn���t about being perpetually serene���
but about staying connected to ourselves even when we���re anything but?

What if evolution looks more like this:
Taking a breath instead of a side swipe.
Letting yourself cry without shame.
Owning your humanity instead of hiding it behind performance.
Remaining centered while the world spins.

I don���t believe the most integrated people are always peaceful. I believe they���re TRUTHFUL.

They don���t bypass the chaos���they breathe through it.
They show up raw��� and still keep showing up.

I think the eternally calm, radiant, zen master floating three inches off the ground at all times is seductive. It’s also a myth.

Enlightenment isn’t sterile or tidy.

Being ���a mess��� doesn’t mean I’ve failed. It means I’m in it. I’m alive. For me this week a messy life has included grief, rage, laughter, snot, awe, exhaustion, and a poop-covered dog.