Plan to Live~ A Story about how Sedona Soulscape came to be.

When I first moved out of state, I felt completely overwhelmed. I wasn't just adjusting to a new home—I was trying to figure out how to carry my life's purpose with me. I knew in my heart I wanted to lead a retreat in the magical red rocks of Sedona. The vision was there... but so was the fear. My mind kept whispering, Not yet. The timing isn't right. Wait until next year, when you're more settled.


One of my dearest friends was with me during that season. We had shared more than 30 years of friendship, laughter, tears, and life's many twists and turns. At the time, she was living with Stage 4 cancer.When I shared my dream of the retreat, her eyes lit up. "I want to go!" she said. I smiled and replied, "I'll do it next year, once I feel more settled."


She became very quiet. 


She looked me straight in the eyes and softly said, "I might not be here next year."


She wasn't afraid to play what she jokingly called "the cancer card." But in that moment, it wasn't manipulation—it was truth. A truth that cut through every excuse, every fear, and every reason I had for waiting. So... I planned the retreat.


As the months went on, her treatments became more intense. The appointments, the protocols, the exhaustion—they all began to take their toll. She started wondering if she should go. Was it the right time? Would she be able to do it? Should she conserve her energy instead? I remember looking at her and saying something that has stayed with me ever since.
"You have a choice. You can plan to live... or you can plan to die."
Those words weren't about denying reality. They were about choosing how to meet it.
She chose to plan to live.
She came to Sedona.
She hiked. She breathed. She laughed. She cried. She rested beneath the towering red rocks. She soaked in every moment. And before we left, she thanked me for making the retreat happen.
But the truth is... I was the one who owed her my gratitude.
She reminded me that tomorrow is never guaranteed. That waiting for the "perfect time" often means missing the very moments our souls are longing for. She gave me the courage to stop postponing what mattered most.
We all need someone who lovingly nudges us beyond our fear. Someone who reminds us that life isn't meant to be lived "someday."
This retreat exists because one remarkable woman reminded me that the time to truly live is now.
Thank you Christine, I love you forever and will honor your YOLO spirit for the rest of my days.