The Shape That Holds Us: Legacy Beyond Blood & Bone
Heart of the Understory
A maroon heart hangs at a contemplative tilt,
held by layers of green nepps that hint
at the wild textures beneath the surface
of all living things. Black waxed thread stitches pathways
of memory and experience, while a feathered fly rests
like a quiet companion. This piece feels reverent,
resolved, and deeply wise—
an elder heart that has learned how to stand
soft and stately at the same time.
Their Blessing:
May you feel the quiet strength beneath
your own surface, and may your heart
lead you with grounded wisdom
and gentle authority.
January Greetings!
As this new year opens, I’ve had Jude Black’s new album, Guided by Her Memory playing on repeat. Her voice, deeply strong, aching, luminous, has been a healing salve for places in my legacy fabric that I haven’t quite been able to stretch into until now, past and present at once.
Legacy is something I’ve been expanding my relationship with. It has always landed differently for me. Legacy is powerfully tied to what we pass onto the next generation, and children were not part of this life’s blueprint for me. And my husband and I are both only children. No progeny in our bloodlines. There is something tender and profound in that. A sense of completion, of an ending that is clean and whole when we eventually part from our physical forms in this lifetime.
And so, the concepts of family and legacy has had to be reimagined in my world. As I tuned into the energy of January, it felt important to remind myself of this truth: That my family extends beyond this life, beyond this time. Beyond blood and bone. Beyond even the human story alone.
I feel more clearly than ever that legacy is not only about who comes after us, but how we choose to live while we are here. Legacy is energetic. Legacy isn't linear. It is woven through each conscious choice, each act of care, each moment we choose integrity over compromise, truth over survival. Every thread matters.
Not all of us were born into families where we felt we belonged. Not all of us were loved in the ways we needed. There is real courage in reaching inward to cultivate the belonging and love we require. And there is equal courage in reaching beyond blood and bone to weave family through chosen kin, community, ancestors of spirit, land, art, devotion, and care.
January feels like a time to honor that courage. To acknowledge what we are carrying forward and what we are lovingly laying down. To ask not only, "What do I come from?" but "What am I contributing to the great tapestry through the way I live?"
How is January landing for you? What kind of legacy are your daily choices weaving? I'd love to hear from you, drop me a line!
May this month meet you with steadiness. May belonging find you — within, and beyond.
Much love to you and your spirit,
Sara
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