Hi Reader

It's olive-harvesting season here in Portugal. As we drove through the countryside today, we saw people everywhere, gathering the olives before the forecast rain arrives - families, friends, young and old, all working together. It's quite a sight, with large nets spread beneath the trees to catch the olives as they're shaken or knocked from the branches. And it's hard work!

Once collected, the olives are sorted, with leaves and twigs removed, before being taken to the local olive press. The reward is that wonderful, freshly pressed olive oil, with its rich, peppery flavour. Absolutely delicious with a little fresh bread!

We have quite a few olive trees on our land, although this year they haven't produced much fruit. Apparently, that's quite normal. Olive trees often have a plentiful harvest one year and a much smaller one the next. And sometimes, after heavy pruning, they need time to recover and grow again.

As I looked at the trees today, I found myself thinking about how much that resembles our own lives.

Not every season is a season of abundance.

There are times when life feels full of possibilities, when we're growing, creating, achieving and enjoying the fruits of our efforts. And then there are other seasons.

Perhaps a relationship ends, a job disappears, our health changes or we find ourselves caring for someone we love. Sometimes the change is something we've chosen, like retirement or a new direction. Other times it's something we never saw coming. And suddenly, the life we knew looks rather different.

What I find particularly interesting is that there's often a period between the old chapter and the new one. We know something has changed, but we haven't yet worked out what comes next. We may no longer feel quite like the person we were, but we're not yet sure who we're becoming. That can be an uncomfortable place to be.

We're so used to measuring progress by what we're doing, achieving or producing that it can be difficult to accept a season when we're simply finding our feet again, but perhaps those quieter seasons are just as important.

A tree doesn't stop being valuable because it has fewer olives this year - and neither do we. Sometimes we need time, care, encouragement and a little space to discover what this next chapter might hold.

It's one of the reasons I'm so passionate about Well-Traveled Soul, the programme I have the privilege of helping to bring into the world. It's about caring for the soul behind the role, particularly when life takes an unexpected turn. And it's about creating spaces where people can be heard, supported and encouraged as they find their way through those in-between chapters. Not by telling them what their next chapter should look like, but by walking alongside them as they begin to discover it for themselves.

In January, I'll be welcoming a new group into our Well-Traveled Soul Facilitator Pathway, where we explore how to create and hold those spaces for others because sometimes the greatest gift we can offer someone isn't an answer. It's the opportunity to be heard, to feel understood and to begin seeing possibilities again.

So here's the gentle question for this week:

Perhaps it's time to grow, to explore something new, or perhaps simply to give yourself permission to rest and recover. Whatever the season, there's no need to rush the next harvest. Your story is still unfolding.

Discover your direction ❤️

Kimberley & Phil​
​The Compass by Casabo​
​Helping you find direction, connection and your next step

PS. If becoming a Well-Traveled Soul facilitator sparks your interest, you can find out more here.

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