Today marks the one year anniversary of my weekly write something and post it practice.
Thank you for reading!
Today I offer you a story, inviting you to remember luminous moments of your own.
The donkey trudged into the meadow, hooves dragging through the grass. The sun poured golden light over the world, the bees hummed lazily, and the wind carried the scent of sweet clover. But she did not notice. Her back still ached from the weight of the morning’s burden, though her load was gone. Her mind clung to the miles behind her, the miles ahead. She sighed and folded herself beneath a crooked tree, eyes half-lidded, ears drooping.
A silver shimmer flickered at the edge of her vision. She ignored it.
The shimmer came closer. A soft voice, light as wind through leaves, spoke.
“Such a beautiful day.”
The donkey snorted. “If you say so.”
The unicorn tilted its head, curious. “You don’t see it?”
“I see it,” the donkey grumbled. “I just don’t have time for it.”
The unicorn stepped closer, hooves barely bending the grass. “But you’re not going anywhere.”
The donkey flicked an ear but did not lift her head. “Not at this moment.”
A pause. Then a sudden, feather-light breath of air—cool, playful—ruffled her mane. The unicorn had exhaled right at her.
The donkey huffed and turned her head. “What are you doing?”
The unicorn’s eyes sparkled. “Reminding you of the wind.”
Another snort. But this time, the donkey shifted, rolling one stiff shoulder. The warmth of the sun seeped deeper into her coat. A bee drifted past, lazily zigzagging through the light.
The unicorn took another step, lowering its head. “I think you like the sun.”
The donkey grunted, but her ears lifted slightly. The sun was warm. The grass was soft beneath her. The air did smell sweet.
The unicorn nudged a stray curl of mane from the donkey’s forehead. “There it is.”
The donkey sighed again, but it was a different sigh. Not burdened. Not resisting. Just… here.
For a long moment, they rested together—the weary and the weightless, the heavy and the bright.
The donkey, finally, let her eyes close. “You’re persistent.”
The unicorn smiled. “And you are patient.”
The donkey thought about that. About the long, trudging steps of her days, about the steady knowing of path and load. About the things the unicorn might never understand.
And yet, the unicorn had waited. Had stayed.
A bee landed on the donkey’s nose, then drifted away again.
She watched it go, following its slow, meandering path across the meadow.
Then she turned back.
The unicorn was gone.
The day remained.
The sun, the hum of bees, the breath of wind through his mane.
The donkey shook her head once, as if clearing a dream, then reached down and tore a mouthful of clover.
She chewed slowly.
“Delicious.”
Becoming the star
A Coaching Invitation for the Donkey in the Field ✨
You may not think of yourself as the unicorn.
You might feel more like the donkey
—tired, dutiful, carrying a weight no one else quite sees.
You’re doing the work. You always have.
And sometimes, even on the most beautiful of days,
you don’t see the light.
But what if lightness found you anyway?
What if something gentle
—like curiosity, like breath, like magic—
touched your mane
and reminded you of what is still here?
In my 1:1 coaching container, Becoming the Star,
we don’t force transformation.
We notice it.
We stay long enough for the clover to taste sweet.
We let the heaviness have a voice—and in doing so, we make space for light.
You don’t have to become someone else.
You don’t have to fix what’s not broken.
And you can become the star of your own story—
not the spotlighted version someone else expects,
but the quiet kind of star that knows where it’s been,
and chooses to shine unapologetically.
We begin in stillness.
We meet gently.
And together, we follow what feels delicious.
Shall we begin?
Glimmers*
One Step Towards the Universe is a weekly co-working and parallel play space for you to breathe into what feels delicious for you. We do this together. ✨ Ask me how
Navigating life’s glitches: What if you could forget everything limiting you’ve learned and simply be. That’s cozy business queen Katherine Mackenzie’s suggestion for business and life. Real women’s stories of transformation podcast
Recalibrate for joy : The magic is as close as paying curious attention to what would feel delicious, now. Free audio guide.
The gift of the unicorn – everything, lol.
The unicorn’s gift isn’t something tangible
—it’s everything.
The light, the breath of wind, the taste of clover.
The moment.
The shift.
It doesn’t change the donkey’s path,
and it does change how she inhabits it.
And the donkey, in turn, gives something back
—the grounding, the patience, the quiet acceptance of burdens that the unicorn struggles with.
They don’t trade places.
They don’t merge into one.
And for a moment, they meet.
That’s the gift.
AuDHD-friendly affirmation for luminous women
Your sensitivity is not the opposite of strength. It’s the source of your unique power.
Many women with AuDHD in their lives love to hold things together for everyone else—quietly noticing what’s needed, and shaping themselves to meet it.
They are conditioned to downplay their magic, work through the weariness, and only rest when the work is done (and it’s never done).
Which undermines our ability to feel the breeze in our mane. To taste the sweetness. To know when enough is enough.
Remember you can pause—even when the world keeps spinning. You can feel the sun before you finish the list. You can let the unicorn come to you.
I trust you to know when you’re ready. To notice the tug of longing. To follow the shimmer of your own becoming.
Inside Becoming the Star, you’ll find a spacious one-to-one container for unwinding, remembering, and re-aligning. We’ll walk gently together—from the grind to the glow, from invisible effort to embodied radiance. You bring the donkey’s wisdom. I’ll help you meet your unicorn.
Drafting notes for the donkey and the unicorn
The to and fro with ChatGPT in writing this story:
Please write me a fable about when the donkey meets the unicorn, based on the following notes: When the donkey meets the unicorn
In stillness, when the donkey is tired and the unicorn is curious.
The warrior meets the fairy/angel same
Simpson and his donkey
Angel and a unicorn
Separate experiences
Inside / outside
Separate worlds
But mirror worlds?
Separate
Touching – tangent…
Overlapping
Donkey is of interest to the unicorn when resting, eating, feeling the sunlight
A working laden donkey is not relatable to a unicorn
Creature of light and lightness
Ephemeral and eternal
Not mundane
Nice work! Strong opening. Solid meeting. But I think the unicorn has work of its own, that it attends to daily as well. I imagine the donkey has satisfaction in its earthy strength. As the unicorn has delight in its magic touch. I think the donkey is delighted by the warmth of sun, coolness of rain, sweetness of grass, buzz of bees. The unicorn is burdened by the harshness of the world, the cruelty of masters, the meanness of thieves. The donkey does not concern itself with such. It knows the stick and carrot. The pleasure of the end of a long day. The unicorns timeless vision is pained by what the donkey ignores. Somehow they have wisdom and solace for each other. Simply knowing that the things they cannot bear are tolerable to the other, and hence taken care of. Can you weave some of that into the meeting? So they both gain from the connection, and part ways knowing the memory of this moment will linger.
What if the donkey is more weary than content to begin. Although the day is still beautiful, like Eeyore, he (hmm, interesting) does not see it. At first he has no time for the unicorn, who gently persists, playfully, until the donkey feels the warmth of the sun etc. something about lightness seeking / being drawn toward blindness and heaviness resisting lightness until the moment of “oh, this”. How would that look?
Nice. Now I want a more satisfying ending. Oh, after the donkey watches the bee drift off across the field, he turns back to the unicorn, but it’s gone. And the day remains, the breeze in the donkeys mane. Shakes his head again, reaches down for a mouthful of clover and cheese slowly. Now content.
Nice. Except I think we’ll finish with a sensory word that points to contentment without naming it – “delicious!”.
Exactly! The unicorn’s gift isn’t something tangible—it’s everything. The light, the breath of wind, the taste of clover. The moment. The shift. It doesn’t change the donkey’s path, but it does change how he inhabits it.
And the donkey, in turn, gives something back—the grounding, the patience, the quiet acceptance of burdens that the unicorn struggles with. They don’t trade places. They don’t merge into one. But for a moment, they meet.
That’s the gift.
More on support through transition
The gifts of connection and clarity
- people and purpose make it possible
When the life you built no longer fits
- a structure for what you are working through
The magic of comfortable shoes
- resting into what fits you, even if it seems unusual
Creative body and the holy grail
- the fullness of resting into your true capacity
When a donkey meets a unicorn
- invitation to recall a luminous moment of your own
Pandora’s gift
