Once upon a time, a woman was crafted not to be, but to appear.
Gifted with beauty, charm, grace — a masterpiece of desirability, shaped by the steady hands of a world steeped in misogyny, ableism, and consumerism.
She was called Pandora: “All-Gifted.”
All gifted, yes — but gifted for others’ enjoyment, not her own.
A beautiful object in a world that prized the surface over the soul.

Into her hands was placed a jar —
her body, her vessel —
and alongside it, an instruction:
Do not open.
Do not look inside.
Do not ask questions about what you carry.

And so she moved through the world, dazzling and smiling, carrying a mystery she was forbidden to know.
A burden unspoken, but heavy nonetheless.
Her own complexities, her sorrows, her fears — sealed tightly within.

But curiosity — that brave, inconvenient spark — stirred in her.
The longing to know herself was too strong.
One day, with trembling hands, she lifted the lid.

And out tumbled all the troubles she had been told to hide:
grief, rage, illness, fear, imperfection, longing, loss.
Not only hers, but the world’s.
Released, because she could no longer bear to pretend they were not there.
Released, because troubles, like truth, refuse to stay silent forever.

The world gasped.
They said she should have kept it closed.
Should have kept herself closed.
Should have kept carrying it alone.

But they were wrong.

Because once her troubles were free, so was she.
No longer a perfect doll.
No longer a lonely monument to false beauty.
But a real woman, cracked open and real, able to connect to others —
especially other women who had been carrying their own silent jars.

In the emptied jar, one thing remained: Hope.

But not easy, pastel hope.
No — a hope forged in the fire of knowing, in the labor of choosing.
A hope that exists only because foreboding does too.
Hope and foreboding — twins — both living inside her.
And now, at last, she could choose between them.
Not because one erased the other, but because, owning her story, she could hold both in her hands.

The jar — her body — was never broken.
It was hers to open, hers to close, hers to carry.
She learned that “no” is powerful until the “yes” is ready.
That it is holy to wait until the moment of true readiness.
Until discernment is possible.

The choice was never between being good and being ruined.
It was the slow, human choice between two worthy paths —
and sometimes between terrifying leaps where the only guide was the pulse of her own soul.

There are no unrecoverable mistakes.
There are pivots, some awkward, some graceful.
There is engagement.
There is action, and action again.
There is hope — gritty, determined, stubborn hope —
Hope that almost always requires a step forward, even through the mud –
and hope that makes that step possible, even wickedly fun.

And still, still, she chooses.
Still, she lives her own story.
And through her living, through her owning —
she remains, truly, All-Gifted.

Becoming the star

You are not here to be a beautiful object in someone else’s world.

You are here to become — fully, fiercely, truly.
You are here to own the vessel of your life, to open your jar when you choose, to release what was never yours to carry alone — and to rise.

Through 1:1 embodiment work inspired by Pandora’s story, we will step into the sacred space of your becoming:

✨ Together, we will listen for the places where curiosity is stirring.
✨ We will honor every no until your true yes emerges —
whole, wise, and yours.
✨ We will open the jar not to break you, but to unfold you —
beautifully, at your pace, in your power.
✨ We will walk side by side through the awkward pivots,
the moments of discernment,
the shining hope forged from all you have lived.

You are the star of this story.
The author.
The embodied light that chooses,
again and again,
to live.

If you feel the pull —
if something inside you is whispering,
It’s time,
I invite you to step in.

You don’t have to do it alone anymore.
Hope remains with you.
And now, so do I.

Shall we begin?

[✨ Yes! I feel this.✨]

Spark up*

One Step Towards the Universe an open invitation for you to show up consistently, especially when you are are feeling low on hope and energy.  We do this together. ✨ Weekly co-working and parallel play space     Ask me how

“How I became a Black Woman”:   What if your silent fears were ungrounded?  Artist Glenny Sijlbing tells how she found true belonging.  Real women’s stories of transformation podcast

Recalibrate for joy :  The shift is as close as taking a moment to tune into what you would most enjoy to do next.   Free audio guide. 

Because when you own your story, you don’t just find hope —

you become it.

When you fully embrace your story, you don’t just uncover hope — you become its living, breathing force. Your narrative becomes the spark that ignites transformation, not just for you, but for everyone you touch.

In owning your story, you don’t merely find hope — you choose it. With each choice you make to claim your past, present, and future, you activate a power that resonates far beyond yourself. Your journey, with all its twists and turns, becomes the very essence of possibility, lighting the way for others to do the same.

When you step into this truth, you realize that hope isn’t just something you find along the way. It’s something you carry, something you radiate. Your story becomes the foundation from which your future is built, and the hope you hold is one you will pass on, lighting the path for others to find their own.