09/27/2025
Today marks one year since Hurricane Helene swept through Asheville and across North Carolina, leaving heartbreak and devastation in its wake.
It’s hard to even know where to begin. So much has shifted. So much was lost. And yet, in the midst of grief, so much was found, uncovered, and remembered. None of us who lived through it will ever really be the same—and perhaps that is the invitation: to keep deciding, day by day, what “being the same” even means when the ground beneath us has changed.
What I’ve learned and lost comes down to this: sovereignty.
Not its absence, but the release of my old need to cling to what no longer resonates. Clarity came like Helene itself—sudden, fierce, and landscape-shifting. Devastating at first, yes, but in the clearing I learned to let go of what I once thought too precious, so that what longed to be born could finally take form.
Anchor yourself in the eye of the storm—whether outside your window or inside your chest—and you’ll be amazed at what remains when the sun returns:
New landscapes. New clarity. New resilience.
And in the remembering…your sovereignty.
Months after the storm, our world flipped upside down again in ways no one could have imagined with the ushering in of the new administration. And we, along with the rest of the world, continue to navigate these choppy waters. And still, clarity is our constant companion. Maybe not instantly but eventually. We remembered what matters. We learned what cannot wait.
If there’s one thing I can say about this community—these resilient, beautiful people of Asheville—it’s this: when everything shook, we found each other. We leaned in. And we keep leaning in.
Who knows what the future will bring? [Well some of us do IYKYK] What I do know is that whatever it is, we’ll meet it together.
M. 💕🙏🏽
