I don’t believe a mission has a fixed endpoint. Mine certainly doesn’t. It shifts as I shift, grows as I grow, and responds to the world as it unfolds around me. What stays constant is not what I do, but why I do it.

I carry years — and strange wisdoms — that I don’t always know how to explain. I’ve often said I don’t know why I see the world the way I do, only that I do. I see it as textured, layered, alive with difference. Every life. Every purpose. Every story. Every unique way the world is meant to be experienced.

It is so full.
So varied.
So beautifully unfinished.

Yes, beauty is subjective — but what if words could act as bridges? What if language could paint just enough of a picture for someone else to pause and say, I hadn’t seen it that way before?

That is what I offer.

Not instructions.
Not prescriptions.
Not a template for how to live.

I don’t advocate that anyone live like me. I understand too deeply how vastly different the inner landscapes of each person truly are. What works for one may never work for another — and that isn’t a flaw, it’s the design.

My role is not to redirect people toward a “right” way of being.
My role is to share what I know — and how I know it.

To offer lived experience.
To show my way of moving through the world.
And to let others take what they need, when they need it.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again:
Take what you need. Leave the rest behind.

That philosophy lives at the heart of CherryCoBiz.

What That Looks Like in Real Life

A simple example of this shifting mission showed up for me just a few days ago, when I turned fifty.

The milestone itself was lovely. I had my hair and nails done, spent time with family in an unexpected and meaningful way, and felt genuinely celebrated. All of that mattered. But what lingered quietly beneath the surface wasn’t the number — it was something much more personal.

Makeup.

My relationship with it has never been simple.

There were seasons when makeup was part of a professional uniform, especially during my years in real estate. There were other seasons when not wearing it was tied to religious belief. And then there were long stretches where I set it aside entirely — not as a rejection, but because that version of me no longer needed it.

I’m no longer religious. I no longer sell real estate. But every version of myself has carried her own relationship with appearance, presentation, and self-expression. Makeup, for me, has always been seasonal.

What makes this season different is not that makeup has returned — it’s how it has returned.

This time, it truly complements my face as it is now.

Not to change it.
Not to hide it.
Not to turn back time.

But to work with it.

I realized that while my skills and assumptions were frozen somewhere in my twenties, my face had continued to evolve — softly, honestly, beautifully. I didn’t feel behind; I simply knew I needed to relearn.

And then — almost coincidentally, or intuitively, or however these moments arrive — I found myself talking with a hairstylist close to my own age.

She had no idea she was about to capture my full attention.

She didn’t lecture.
She didn’t sell.
She didn’t tell me what I should do.

She simply shared what she had learned — what had worked for her, what hadn’t, and how her relationship with makeup had changed over time. Her words landed not because they were authoritative, but because they were timed perfectly.

I took what I needed.
And I left the rest behind.

She never told me to go to Sephora — but that’s where I went. Not chasing trends. Not trying to erase age. But choosing cream-based products that respect an aging face rather than fight it. Products that keep a healthy, natural look — and yet offer versatility.

What surprised me most was that versatility.

I can keep things soft and understated.
Or, if I choose, I can be more dramatic.

The choice is mine — and that matters.

I started using the products right away, knowing I needed time to learn them, to live in them, to understand how they move with my face. When I return to work, people may notice something different — but find it hard to name exactly what it is.

And that feels just right.

I love it — but I want to know that love before I say too much about it. From what I can tell, though, this feels like the next right step for me.

All of these possibilities — all of this reflection — grew out of one simple conversation with a new person in my life who happened to say exactly the right thing at exactly the right moment.

And I am deeply, genuinely grateful for that.

That moment — small, personal, unremarkable to anyone else — is exactly how my mission works in real life. Knowledge shared without agenda. Wisdom offered without demand. Growth chosen, not prescribed.

If a conversation about something as simple as cream blush can offer me a new way to see myself, imagine what we can do for each other when we share the bigger things — the grief, the joy, the stillness, and the change.

Why I Keep Sharing

Whether I’m writing about wellness, meditation, food made with care, or the world we’re all trying to make sense of, I do so knowing none of us live in a vacuum. We live inside a vibrant, breathing world full of lived experiences — stories layered on top of stories, stretching forward longer than we can imagine.

Can you imagine what we carry forward from one another?
How even a single idea, shared honestly, can change the direction of a life?

Maybe what I share helps.
Maybe it doesn’t.
Maybe it was meant for you.
Maybe it wasn’t.

And that’s okay.

My mission is simply this:
to share — and to keep sharing — the truth as I see it and understand it.

I’m becoming part of the older generation now. I feel that responsibility settling in gently, not heavily. I know what I have to offer can help someone, even if it’s just one person. And the slow, steady growth of this community — however small or large it becomes — tells me that these words resonate in different ways, at different times.

I teach not because I hold a license that says I can —
but because I’ve lived a life that says I should.

A rhythm that says I can.
A will that keeps CherryCoBiz moving forward until the day I no longer can.

For a long time, I didn’t feel like I truly had a purpose. That changed when CherryCoBiz began. And even then, it hasn’t stayed the same. It has shifted and grown and responded to the world — and it will likely continue to do so.

But the heart of it remains.

I will still share here.
I will still grow here.
With those who visit regularly.
Those who just landed.
Those who never return.
And those who decide to stay.

You’re invited to experience all of it.

My mission is to grow.
To evolve.
To love and care for people the way I know how —

Through words.
Through shared experience.
Through stories offered freely.

And that, for me, is purpose enough.