Post Date: November 04, 2026
Lovely friends,
There is something about the beginning of November that always feels like a shift to me. The light changes, the evenings come earlier, the air finally starts feeling a little different here in Southern California, and suddenly I’m thinking more about home. We’re moving toward Thanksgiving, the holidays aren’t far behind, and there is this natural feeling of wanting to get things settled before the year begins winding down. I start looking around at what needs finishing, what needs putting away and what I would really rather not drag with me into another year.
Apparently, for John and me, November has decided to begin with the shed.
If you ever want a very accurate picture of what you’ve been holding onto, I highly recommend opening a shed you haven’t thoroughly gone through in a while. Apparently, we have been running a cardboard box sanctuary. I am not exaggerating when I say a huge amount of what was taking up space was empty boxes from things we bought because, of course, we might need to return them. You know how that goes. You buy something and think you should probably keep the box for a little while just in case, and then two years later the item is happily living in your house, the return period ended during a previous administration, and for reasons nobody can explain, the box has earned permanent residency in the shed.
We also found old toys from when Z was little, and he’s 20 now. That will get you. There is something about picking up an old toy and immediately remembering the little person who played with it, even though that little person is now a grown man with a life of his own. I can remember when those things were important to him, when they were played with and left around and probably stepped on more times than I care to remember. Now John and I are standing there deciding what stays and what goes, and I realized somewhere between the old toys and our apparently priceless collection of empty cardboard boxes that this felt like more than cleaning out a shed.
Maybe that’s part of why November feels like such a natural time for this. We’re coming into a season when so much of our attention turns toward gathering, family, traditions and home, but I also think November carries this quiet awareness that another year is beginning to close. We’re not quite at the point of making plans for a new year, and I’m glad because I don’t feel ready for that yet. There is still life left in this one. But there is something about this month that makes me want to look around, take stock and create a little breathing room before everything gets busier.
I’ve been thinking about making room, and I keep feeling there is a spiritual piece to this that goes much deeper than getting organized. Sometimes our physical spaces start showing us what we’ve been doing energetically without us realizing it. We keep things because they used to matter, because they might be useful someday, because they belonged to a different season of our lives or simply because we’ve never stopped long enough to decide whether we still need them. After a while they become part of the background. We stop making a conscious choice to keep them and simply continue carrying them because they’re already there.
I think we can do exactly the same thing emotionally and spiritually. We carry responsibilities long after they really belong to us, keep plans we don’t particularly want anymore because at some point we decided that was where we were going, and hold onto old expectations about who we’re supposed to be. Sometimes it’s a relationship that has changed but we’re still responding to it as though nothing has changed. Sometimes it’s a way of working that made perfect sense ten years ago but feels exhausting now. Sometimes it’s an old hurt that we’ve already learned everything we’re going to learn from, but we keep taking it down from the shelf and examining it because we’ve gotten so used to it being part of our story.
Spirit has been bringing this idea of space to me over and over lately, and I don’t think it’s an accident that I’m seeing it show up in so many areas at once. I’ve spent a lot of this year looking at what I’ve already created, what still belongs with me, what needs updating and what I’m ready to release. I’ve been doing it with my work, my website, old writing, old ideas and even with how I see myself at this stage of my life. Now John and I are literally hauling the physical version of that process out of the shed, because apparently Spirit decided subtlety wasn’t necessary and cardboard boxes would make the point just fine.
The more we cleared, the more I started thinking about how much energy there is in consciously deciding what stays with us. I don’t mean that in a fearful way, as though an old box is sitting in the shed giving off terrible energy and ruining your life. I mean that there is something powerful about looking at what you’ve accumulated and making a choice again. Some things still matter. Some things carry wonderful memories. Some things are useful and absolutely deserve their space. I don’t believe spiritual growth means throwing everything away, burning our old journals and living in an empty room with one chair and a houseplant.
What I’m interested in is noticing whether something still belongs in the life I’m living now. Some of Z’s old things are worth keeping because they mean something to us, while others were wonderful for the little boy he used to be and have simply finished their job. The same thing is true of our experiences. Something can have been deeply important to us and still be complete. A responsibility can have once been ours and no longer be ours. A belief can have helped us understand life at one point and eventually become too small for what we’ve learned since then.
I think that is where clearing becomes spiritual for me, because it asks us to pay attention instead of automatically continuing. I don’t need to go through my life searching for things to release just so I can say I’m releasing something. I’ve never believed spiritual growth requires constantly digging around inside ourselves looking for another wound to heal. There are times when life is good and we’re allowed to enjoy it without turning happiness into another self-improvement project. But there are also times when the same feeling starts showing up everywhere, and I’ve learned over the years that when my physical space, my work, my intuition and my emotional life all seem to be pointing in the same direction, it’s worth listening.
There is something incredibly satisfying about clearing an area that has been packed full and suddenly being able to see the floor again. You can see what you actually own, find the things that matter and stop moving ten things out of the way every time you need to reach one thing. I think our inner world can get crowded in exactly the same way. We carry what we’re responsible for, what somebody else is worried about, what happened five years ago, what might happen six months from now, what we should be doing, what we haven’t gotten around to doing and what everybody around us might need. Eventually there isn’t much quiet left underneath all of it, and sometimes we don’t realize how noisy it has become until we clear a little space.
For me, that’s when something as ordinary as cleaning the shed can become part of my spiritual practice. As things leave, I’ve been thinking about what else I’m ready to stop carrying and what I actually want more room for. I don’t need a huge ceremony around it. Sometimes I’ll simply take a few quiet minutes, ground myself and ask my angels and Spirit to help me recognize anything I’ve been holding onto that has completed its purpose. I can be grateful for what an experience gave me, keep the wisdom and love that came from it, and still acknowledge that I don’t need to carry every part of it forward.
I also don’t expect something mystical to happen every time I do that. Sometimes I feel an immediate shift, sometimes something comes to mind later, and sometimes I finish my quiet moment and realize there are still three boxes waiting for me. I’ve been doing spiritual work long enough to know that Spirit doesn’t always need special effects. Some of the most important shifts in my life have been quiet enough that I didn’t fully recognize them until I looked back and realized I was responding differently, choosing differently or simply no longer thinking about something that once took up an enormous amount of my energy.
One of the questions I’ve been sitting with through all of this is what I actually want to create room for. That feels more meaningful to me than immediately asking what’s coming next, because I’m not interested in clearing my life just so I can hurry up and fill every empty space again. I want more room for peace, creativity and the spiritual work that feels alive to me now. I want room for John and me to enjoy this stage of our lives and for me to follow ideas because I’m genuinely excited about them instead of automatically turning everything into another responsibility. I want enough quiet in my own energy that I can hear my intuition before my practical brain arrives with the clipboard and begins explaining why we need a complete plan.
And maybe that’s what I love about November when I really think about it. There is a coziness to this month that invites us inward a little. We start spending more time at home, thinking about the people we love, pulling out familiar recipes and traditions, and noticing how quickly another year has moved. I don’t want to rush through that just to get to Christmas or start talking about New Year’s resolutions. I want to actually be here for November. I want to enjoy the cooler evenings, the earlier sunsets, the feeling of home and the opportunity to clear a little space before the holidays bring their own wonderful kind of fullness.
I’m not trying to throw out the past or rush toward some completely new version of my life. There are things from the past worth rediscovering, relationships worth looking at again, ideas that may deserve another chance and parts of myself I am very happy to bring with me. Clearing doesn’t have to mean rejecting everything old so we can chase something shiny and new. Sometimes we go through what we already have and discover something valuable that got buried underneath everything else.
And sometimes we discover we’ve been protecting an empty cardboard box for two years because we might need to return the coffee maker. Both revelations are useful.
That’s why I want to approach this whole idea of making room with love instead of turning it into another job. I can appreciate what belonged to an earlier version of my life without needing to keep every physical, emotional and energetic piece of it forever. I can pick up one of Z’s childhood toys and love the memories attached to it without wishing he were five again. I can be grateful for who I was in an earlier chapter without needing to become her again, and I can appreciate work I’ve created without carrying every old project forward simply because I once put my heart into it.
I think Spirit gives us these seasons when we’re ready for them. There are times for building, times for holding things together, times for learning and creating, and then there are times when we look around and realize we’ve accumulated more than we need. The clearing itself creates a pause where we can hear ourselves again, and maybe that is part of why it feels so important to me right now. I don’t know everything I want to put into the space that’s opening, and I’m actually trying not to decide too quickly.
As you’re moving into November too, it might be worth quietly noticing where you could use a little more room. It doesn’t have to become a giant cleaning project or some dramatic spiritual release. It might simply be one drawer you’ve been avoiding, one commitment that no longer makes sense, an old expectation you’ve been carrying, or something emotional that keeps asking for your attention. You could even sit quietly for a few minutes and ask Spirit, What am I ready to make room for now? Then give yourself some time before deciding what the answer means. Sometimes the first thing we notice isn’t what needs to leave at all. It’s what we’ve been missing because there hasn’t been enough space to hear it.
So as November begins, I’m looking around my home, my work and my own energy and paying attention to where things feel crowded. John and I will keep working on that shed, I’ll keep deciding what still deserves space in my work and life, and I’m going to keep asking Spirit to help me recognize what I’m carrying simply because I’ve gotten used to carrying it. I’m also going to try very hard not to save boxes for things whose return windows have already closed, although after thirty-four years together I suspect John and I may need a separate spiritual intervention for that one.
Mostly, though, I want to leave a little room open as we head toward the holidays and the final stretch of this year. I want November to have some space of its own before everything becomes lists, meals, gifts, plans and places to be. There is something comforting to me about beginning the month this way, clearing a little clutter, remembering some old stories, keeping what matters and letting the rest move along.
I don’t need to know exactly what’s going to grow in the space that’s opening. I can clear what is finished, bless what mattered, keep what still feels true and trust that Spirit will keep showing me the next piece when I’m ready for it. There is something peaceful about realizing I don’t have to fill every opening the moment it appears, and maybe that’s something we can all give ourselves permission to do this month. Make a little room, leave some of it open, and see what finds its way in.
Sometimes making room is the spiritual work, and November feels like a lovely time to begin.
Much love,
Lisa 💜