"In his last days, he leaked light..."
The poem arrived on our final morning of an annual gathering we affectionately name Generation Medicine. The words carried by Karen Luke Jackson's voice as we gathered on the dock of Highland Lake Cove.
I want to experience light leaking through. Don’t you?
This is what I witnessed all weekend at our GenMedicine Solstice Gathering. And it's got me thinking about something deeper—about the medicine that happens when we remember we're not just individuals bumping through life, but part of something mythic, something larger than our individual stories.
The Ancient Pull to Gather
The night before we began our retreat, imposter syndrome crept in like an uninvited guest. Here I was (with my extraordinaire partner in these adventures Julian), co-hosting meditation teachers, leaders, authors, and fellow coaches.
For a moment I felt the wobble: who am I to facilitate this constellation of epic humans?
Then I remembered something my mentor’s meditation teacher Jeff Carreira teaches: when we awaken, we start creating shared worlds through our stories and presence. My heart settled. This wasn't about me proving anything. This was about stepping into the archetype I've been dancing with my whole life—the Harmony Alchemist, the one who falls in love with the infinite game we're all playing together.
Something beyond words happened in this play. I literally saw it moving through our circle—a not so invisible cord connecting us as expressions of a timeless bond.
Three Ingredients for Crossing Thresholds
We opened with a medicine wheel under the solstice sky. Many of our group were new to this ceremonial practice, yet they trusted the lead of my dear mentor Phil Moore's voice. Each generation called in the seven directions—new beginnings, healing, wisdom, transformation, mother earth, and infinite possibilities.
As someone who guides people through life's pivotal crossroads, I know threshold crossing requires three essential ingredients: Community. Ceremony. Courage.
The community that holds you as you step into what's next. The ceremony that marks the passage and makes it sacred. The courage to show up fully, even when you don't know what's on the other side.
But here's what surprised me most—it wasn't the big ceremonial moments that cracked us open. It was the space between.
The Medicine in the Margins
Our gaggle of varied aged humans flowed through days punctuated by whimsical lake play and land walks. Children built make-believe houses, stirred mud pies and constructed totems with flourish while adults grounded their breath on the docks. The group gathered for lovingly prepared long table meals where stories spilled between courses and smiles twinkled between new friends.
I felt it. The kind of medicine that can't be bottled or prescribed.
"If you don't love your work, move on and find something you do love." This wisdom came from a 7-year-old, offered to our final BECOMING circle. Words that are ageless, spoken with the clarity only children possess. I glanced around at the grown ups surrounding the child—most had tears in their eyes.
I won’t forget a moment teaching a 77-year-old woman how to dive into a lake. Watching her body cutting through water like liquid courage reminded me that I’m never too old to learn a new skill. Huge gratitude goes to you Deborah-Marie!
I saw elders lean in close to hear teenagers' dreams. The teens looked bold as they were witnessed.
Transformation doesn't ask for permission—it asks for presence. Whether seven or seventy, it's the gentle unraveling of who you thought you had to be, and the brave blooming into who you've always been.
The Return to Sacred Time
This past weekend’s event was held appropriately on the Summer Solstice—the peak of light, when earth itself is most generous, abundant, alive. We carried that same energy. The healing that happens when we gather in intergenerational pods is profound in ways I'm still integrating.
We've spent too long isolated in our age bubbles, missing the reciprocal magic that flows when generations weave together.
Elders need our aliveness. We need their clarity. Our children need to see the full spectrum of what it means to be human.
This isn't about fixing anything broken. It's about returning to sacred time, where the future pulls us forward like gravity, synchronicity becomes guidance, and meaning is not made but revealed.
The Infinite Game of Becoming
I had a realization sitting on that dock on our last day. I've been drawn to gathering humans my whole life. From age 8 at boarding school, organizing clubs and groups, finding ways to orchestrate the characters hidden in my friends. Making them comfortable enough to rock out their uniqueness.
This drawing of humans together—falling in love with them in the process, learning from them—is my life's work and education. The exponentiating power of this move is infinite.
No one leaves these gatherings unchanged. They carry new connections within themselves and with other humans. The bonds we build ripple out into everything—how we show up in families, move through the world, remember we're not walking this path alone.
Generation Medicine isn't a program. It's a remembering.
The Call Forward
If something in you is stirring around this work—if you feel the pull toward this kind of gathering, this medicine exchange—don't wait. We're already dreaming into next year's circle. Reach out and join us.
The light is leaking through.
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Please reStack or share if this lit something in you.
With love, Hope
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