~Turning toward 2026 with an intuitive heart~

Happy New Year, Friends!

I’ve spent the last week or so either in my pajamas, or if I had to leave the house, in outfits that were clearly pajama-adjacent. And I suspect like many of us, figuring out exactly what day it is has taken a little bit more focus (I think I’m writing this on Sunday. Will fact check that later).

The last month of 2025 was a deeply indoor month. The weather here in Maine has been bitterly cold, snowing a lot and icy, a full month earlier than it usually is. I say huzzah!, quite literally, to those extra minutes of daylight now arriving after the winter solstice-which are incidentally my favorite increments of time and the most appreciated of the entire year. These small batches of light enjoy celebrity status around here, in my humble opinion the sun deserves to arrive in a limo on the winter solstice, stepping out into a blaze of paparazzi flashes onto a red carpet, greeted like the literal luminary they are. This is only the second instance in which I’ve gotten star struck, becoming the kind of excited, trembling fan who loses the ability to speak, even if it is in the presence of a handful of seconds of daylight. OH WELL. Only one human has ever inspired the same reaction.

Hibernation mode is slowly abates with the increase in light, and we now face the task of putting on our big girl pants in order to properly turn toward the first “real” week of the new year. There are big feelings abounding, undoubtedly a result of the year we just survived, but also because the horrors and cruelty we are bearing witness to are not going away.

Our personal challenges are also (always) still there requiring reserves of strength and perseverance, only now for us United States humans, they are unfolding against the backdrop of our fight against authoritarianism.

And yet. Once again, we have been changed and transformed by whatever life brought to our doorstep this year, and the results are not all bad. We may feel tentative, unsure, exhausted by it all, but in the zeitgeist there is also the energy and inspiration and courage born of real hope.

I finished the year reflecting on the things I was grateful for. I made a month-by month list of the true and lasting good that showed up in my life (and others’), and I am amazed by how long the list became. I did not expect there to be as many truly positive experiences I could claim for myself and for us all. The theme seemed to be healing and courage, movement and solutions for issues I had given completely up on, from the minuscule (my chronically dry cuticles are no longer a crime scene) to superficial (Teddy the dog’s tear stains are reduced by 95% and only because we offered to watch our neighbors’ dog while they were in the hospital having their first baby (!). Since their sweet doggie will only drink filtered water from the fridge, we filled the water bowls up with the good stuff, and surprise, surprise the one thing I hadn’t tried in over 2 years of trying everything, worked. )

There were also huge shifts in relationships and boundaries. Milestones and life events that filled me with joy. Junior Gorman’s the Elder’s graduation from university and their continuation into full-time (union!) work pursuing their passion for good food at Tatiana. There were also huge disruptions: Bill’s decision to leave the federal government without having another job lined up.

There were soul nourishing visits to and from family and friends, getting to attend my godson’s wedding. In April I was able to lay flowers on the site where my great-uncle was killed in the Battle of the Bulge.

This is not nearly a comprehensive list. But its important to write it all down because this was not the year I was expecting to have. It did not start with a burst of optimism.

So we found multiple ways to get into action for democracy. We raised our voices because we couldn’t live with ourselves if we didn’t. We plainly called out hate even when we knew it would cause conflict. We shared our thoughts publicly even when it attracted harassment, but we also handed the mike to quieter voices as well and just listened. We adjusted to the constraints of a recessive economy, and in the shadow of the outlandish greed of a few and the regressive policies of the government, still found ways to share with others who needed what we had extra of. We made signs, went to protests, knocked doors, volunteered at Maine Needs and put in extra work to defeat Question 1 here in Maine. We said no to cruelty and stood up for our neighbors.

By nourishing our community, we were nourished by it as well. Regardless of circumstances or results, we gave of our time, energy, and treasure. We responded to what was needed and that it made our values come alive.

We’ve never stopped grieving for the harm we see being gleefully perpetrated by those who have lost connection to their own souls, we never stopped aching for how so many humans still cannot honor their own and others’ vulnerability, we never turned toward the fantasy that recovery from all that has happened will be simple.

The horrors never stopped being horrible, but the good prevailed despite them. And then the good grew and now it’s taking up space.

It reminds me that dark times illuminate bright lights within us, individually and collectively. It reminds me that I enjoy my own personal good when I am connected to opportunities for the good of everyone.

I’m not a champion sleeper anymore, due to hot flashes and the vasomotor symptoms that come with them, which often means that I wake up on fire and panicking before I even have a chance to intervene. I’m working on it, and it’s getting better. But last year at this time I was up almost every night at 2am drowning in the deeply sordid currents of worry that really thrive in the wee hours, wondering what this administration and the fascism that had seduced great numbers of our citizens would wreak upon us all. And praying to be made useful, even though my voice trembled as I asked the Universe for help.

Yet, as has happened many times, my intuition just would not cooperate with the fear. One really bad night, during a full moon, as I sat on my couch in tears, trying to cry quietly so no one would wake up, I felt a wave of love move through me so gently, yet so powerfully, I reflexively held my breath, trying to hear what felt like whispers of messages arriving from just off stage, getting louder as they stepped in front of the curtain.

My tears stopped on a dime, as I sat there stunned at not what, but who, had arrived.

Letting myself exhale, I was present to many spirits who had come to visit. Family, friends, ancestors. It was a real Ghost-level event and I wiped my tears chuckling. I was in a very full house, full of guides who had traveled to make sure I knew they were there. It did indeed make quite an impression.

The panic drained from me entirely, replaced by awe, and I began to feel their words of hope, comfort, and resilience. Most were simple, plain language admonitions like “you will be all right”. But others promised specifically that we would make it through and until I had that faith in my core, they would return as often as needed to make sure I felt safe. Of course I suspected they had no idea how bad things were. I was wrong. They shared examples of how they had all walked upon the earth during equally perilous times. They hadn’t forgotten how difficult it is here. They gently reminded me to remind you to listen to your guides too, who also bring messages of hope. They spoke, firmly convicted, that great transformation was afoot. That we were stronger than we realized. That hate withers and dies in the face of truth, that love and compassion are the highest truths of all, and that humans need this lesson repeatedly to learn how weak evil actually is.

My tears started again, but they were different tears now. Of comfort and relief. And then as I got up to go back to bed I saw through the windows that clouds were moving across the full moon, whose light was still bright enough to make the thick snow covering everything a shade of blue alive with electricity.

Such incredible beauty. Which I never would have seen if I’d been able to sleep the way I’d wanted to.

It reminds me of another scary beginning to the new year. New Year’s Eve, 2017. After being diagnosed with breast cancer on my 50th birthday 3 months before and 13 months after the Junior Gorman’s dad had died of gastric cancer, I was facing mastectomy surgery. Trump had just been elected. After weeks of enduring the terror that I was orphaning my children to a world whose cruelty had already shattered us to pieces, and promised to continue, I felt that same feeling of love and peace arrive in my heart. A message came that I didn’t even have the energy or the inclination to reach for.

It was pure hope. Here’s what I wrote about it:

“Minutes away from 2017 here in San Diego. It’s been pouring all evening. Nothing will have changed tomorrow except the numbers on the calendar. Every single challenge we face, personally or collectively, will still exist and require all of our entire selves.

And yet. What is that pestering, agitating flutter in my heart keeping me from my original plan, which was to let myself drift off while the Junior Gormans counted the new year down? Ducking while the last wave of 2016 crashed over us?

Damn if it isn’t Hope. A real, crazy, wind and rain, doesn’t-make-sense, deep and drenching hope-filled faith.

I did not even summon it, didn’t dare to try. And yet there it is anyway.

*Thank God*.

May the One Light that shines through the many lamps, in all our beautiful and glorious lives, continue to remind us to pay attention to it.”

Long story short, I didn’t die. I’m going to be a 10-year cancer survivor this year, and in what was arguably a brutal exercise (on steroids for sure) in facing my mortality, it completely changed my entire way of being in the world. It broke me open to embrace the gift of life that any remaining years here would be, instantly increasing my capacity for joy, and putting me on a path to review each and every situation I was agreeing to that no longer served me. It ended up being the best 50th birthday present I could have ever received.

Our family’s trauma and grief was bleak and laborious, but the lives that we are all living today is testament to the way even the most awful experiences can transform us. Our hearts are fully open, to all of life.

Cue the gratitude and admiration I have for the way the Junior Gormans have grown into the most amazing people you’ll ever meet, emotionally intelligent, compassionate, brilliant, and the funniest humans alive. They have built networks of the most incredible partners and friends, living lives with purpose and consideration. Cue also, my partner Bill. Not a single day goes by that I don’t experience the passion, friendship, resiliency, flexibility, honesty, and fun that I share with him.

Let me take a moment though, to be really clear about why I share these stories. First and foremost, it’s to make sure real life examples of how we receive guidance and strength from our intuition works. That’s my job. Are they always this dramatic? No. But each day teems with subtle moments too, and that they are so regular is in itself impressive. Even so, I don’t share what we went through to make the point that it was easy or simple. My point is that we should never decide in advance what is possible.

Healing takes what it takes, for some of us longer than others. Some of us suffer pointlessly on this planet, (which is itself also hurting of course) and all of it breaks my heart. When the heart breaks open there will always be more laughter and more tears.

Suffering on its own cannot transform unless we make the choice for it to do that. But we always can be guided to solutions. That is your intuition’s job. I share what happened to me because I believe something meaningful is embedded in everything we experience. I was guided by my intuition, through all of the fear and pain, even when I had lost hope, and I was able to hang on because of the gut sense that there was an opportunity to learn something very important. I was not serene the entire time, nor did I ever have a complete understanding of what was unfolding, nor do I believe that I’ll never experience pain again in my life. I am human as we all are and it was a very human experience to get a cancer diagnosis the year after losing my husband to cancer.

But it is still an absolute freaking miracle. We are in good shape today, and that we have recognizable opportunities to give of ourselves.

And while it’s not elegant as an exact comparison, perhaps we as humans, Americans in particular, at this moment are facing the fact that democracy isn’t guaranteed, nor is a healthy planet, much like a long healthy life isn’t. I think it’s significant that what we’re learning now may catapult us into a different kind of human experience. We will move through this difficult time changed, with more capacity and commitment for being the best of who we are.

And that’s how I know we are ready to face 2026: if you look back on the last year you will see parts of your 2025 life that are good and enduring and arrived unbidden. That answered questions big and small you may not have even had the energy to hold close to your heart.

If you participated in some form of conscious action rooted in the being helpful or kind (or even if you only thought about it), that was your intuition speaking to you. It’s your intuition’s primary job to guide you to be a healing agent for yourself and as many others as you can invite along for the ride. Your intuition will always activate your awareness not just your own benefit, but for others’.

And even if you did nothing but make it through 2025, you arrived still standing in 2026, and that is everything. In 2025, the world held space for you. You are supposed to be here. Your intuition will continue to operate on your behalf, actively guiding you to the experiences you need to keep going, toward the people who want to cheer you on, to opportunities to participate not only in your own highest good but (take me to the chorus) the highest good for the greatest number. It is a much more meaningful and satisfying experience.

We do not have to decide in advance what is possible. And what’s possible is always more than we know or believe.

I encourage you to write down, month by month, all the unexpected good that came to you in 2025. What did your intuition lead you to that added to your and others’ lives?Try it, so you’ll see, recorded on paper, how you were absolutely ready for last year, and how you’re absolutely ready for this year too, in your exact life, at this exact moment in our history.

You are ready to be a channel for the light that wants to pour through all of us in 2026.

Holding you in my heart always,

Susan