Hey there Reader, From the Trail: When I Found a Feather I was halfway up the trail, hot and frustrated, when I spotted it, just resting there on a patch of moss. A small, white feather, perfectly still despite the breeze. I’d been second-guessing myself all morning: my art, my direction, even my reason for hiking. But the feather stopped me. It felt like a whisper: “You don’t have to carry it all.” Feathers don’t try to hold onto things. They float, they shift, they fall. And somehow, they...