12/02/2026
๐ ๐๐ผ๐ธ๐ฒ ๐๐ฝ ๐น๐ฎ๐๐ด๐ต๐ถ๐ป๐ด.
๐ก๐ผ๐ ๐ฎ ๐ฝ๐ผ๐น๐ถ๐๐ฒ ๐๐บ๐ถ๐น๐ฒ โ ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ฒ๐ฝ, ๐ฟ๐ผ๐น๐น๐ถ๐ป๐ด, ๐๐ผ๐๐น-๐น๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐น ๐น๐ฎ๐๐ด๐ต๐๐ฒ๐ฟ.
๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐ธ๐ถ๐ป๐ฑ ๐๐ต๐ฎ๐ ๐๐๐ฟ๐ฝ๐ฟ๐ถ๐๐ฒ๐ ๐๐ผ๐ ๐๐ถ๐๐ต ๐ต๐ผ๐ ๐บ๐๐ฐ๐ต ๐ฟ๐ผ๐ผ๐บ ๐ถ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ธ๐ฒ๐.
The dream came in that liminal hour โ waking early, then slipping gently back into sleep. A threshold moment. A doorway.
The landscape was simple:
a dirt road hugging the side of a mountain.
About fifteen feet above it, a small flat ledge where two figures sat โ ๐ซ๐ถ๐ฅ๐จ๐ฆ๐ด, of some sort โ watching an event unfold.
One man (my accountant, of all characters) sat in a chairโฆ with wheels.
And again and again, the chair rolled down the hill.
Each time, he pushed it back up.
Each time, gravity won.
I watched this cycle repeat โ earnest, persistent, almost ceremonial.
Until he noticed a small green shrub in an otherwise drab landscape.
He bent it over, creating a makeshift barrier.
โ๐๐ญ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ,โ I remember thinking.
Then he climbed onto the chair, stood upโฆ
and just before the chair tipped over the shrub,
he flattened himself belly-down
and rode the chair all the way to the bottom.
Safely. Smoothly.
Everyone ran toward him โ cheering, celebrating, laughing.
And thatโs when I woke up.
Laughing so hard it felt like joy had been wrung from somewhere deep inside me.
If this dream stirred something in you โ a reminder to bend instead of break, to laugh instead of resist, to trust the ride instead of fighting gravity โ donโt ignore it. ๐ฟโจ
๐ Reach out at ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐@๐๐ถ๐ณ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ผ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐น๐ฒ.๐ฐ๐ผ๐บ
๐ Explore upcoming retreats at ๐ต๐๐๐ฝ๐://๐น๐ถ๐ณ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ผ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐น๐ฒ.๐ฐ๐ผ๐บ
Sometimes the breakthrough isnโt in pushing harder โ itโs in learning how to ride the hill differently.
