From The Spiritual Archer To The Woman In The Big Red Eyeglasses
If you remember The Spiritual Archer, you have not landed in the wrong place. 😊
You are still here. I am still here. The blog just grew up a little, changed clothes, put on a fabulous pair of oversized red eyeglasses, and walked into a new chapter.
The name you may see now is Stranger On An Elevator, and that is not random. It comes from one of the stories that helped begin this whole journey. A small moment. A brief encounter. One of those strange little life scenes that stays with you longer than expected.
And now, standing at the center of this next season, is someone new but familiar.
She is The Woman in the Big Red Eyeglasses.
She is me.
Well, a slightly more dramatic AI version of me. 😂
The blog changed because I changed
When I started The Spiritual Archer, I was asking questions.
Some were spiritual. Some were personal. Some were the kind of questions you ask late at night when the house is quiet and your heart refuses to be.
Who am I becoming?
What am I supposed to do with all these stories?
Why do certain moments feel like messages?
How do I keep going when the answer has not arrived yet?
Back then, the name fit. The image fit. The search fit.
But life does what life does. It moves. It stretches you. It hands you grief, joy, confusion, courage, and a few plot twists you absolutely did not request.
So the blog had to move too.
The shift from From The Spiritual Archer To The Woman In The Big Red Eyeglasses is not a rejection of where I began. It is a sign that the beginning did what it came to do. It brought me here.
And here looks different.
The woman behind the glasses is still finding her way
The Woman in the Big Red Eyeglasses is an avatar, but she is not some random character I pulled out of the air.
She is inspired by the real woman behind the stories, ideas, dreams, and projects I am still bringing to life.
The glasses may be bigger now.
My dreadlocks are certainly longer. 😂
Niko 🐾 has joined the adventure.
And I have lived a whole lot more life.
She has a little flair because I have always loved a little flair.
She has a look because sometimes you need an image bold enough to hold the work you are growing into.
She has humor because I cannot take myself too seriously for too long.
But underneath the character, the color, and the AI sparkle, it is still me.
The same woman who started asking questions years ago.
Only now, I am asking from a different place.
I am asking with more experience behind me.
I am asking with more patience, most days.
I am asking with a broader perspective and less pressure to sound like I have everything figured out.
Because I do not.
And honestly, I have no desire to pretend that I do.
Stranger On An Elevator is part of the same journey
The name Stranger On An Elevator matters because it reminds me how often life speaks through ordinary moments.
Not every turning point arrives with dramatic music. Sometimes it comes through a conversation you did not plan. A stranger you never see again. A pause between floors. A sentence that lands deeper than it should.
That is the kind of story I have always been drawn to.
The small moments that carry weight.
The questions that follow us home.
The human encounters that nudge us toward ourselves.
So while the name has changed, the heartbeat is familiar. This space is still about meaning, memory, identity, faith, curiosity, healing, creativity, and the strange little breadcrumbs that show up along the way.
I am still paying attention.
I am just doing it with red glasses now.
I am bringing more of myself this time
One of the gifts of growing older is that you start to get tired of shrinking.
You start to see how many versions of yourself you created just to make other people comfortable.
The serious version.
The polished version.
The version with the acceptable questions.
The version that could explain herself neatly.
I am not interested in living only inside those versions anymore.
This next chapter gives me room to bring more of myself forward:
The storyteller
The seeker
The creative woman with too many ideas
The dog mom
The one who laughs at herself
The one who still wrestles with doubt
The one who believes ordinary life is full of strange grace
That does not mean every post will be heavy or deeply spiritual. Some may be reflective. Some may be funny. Some may wander into creativity, aging, identity, dreams, grief, reinvention, or whatever lesson life decides to hand me next.
But I want the writing to feel honest.
I want this space to feel alive.
I want to leave room for mystery without making mystery perform.
The questions are different now
Years ago, I wanted answers.
Now I still want answers, but I respect the questions more.
That may be one of the biggest changes.
A question can be a doorway. It can also be a companion. Sometimes it walks beside you for years before it gives you anything that looks like clarity.
I used to think finding myself meant arriving at some final, polished version of me.
Now I think finding myself may be more like returning. Again and again. Through different seasons. Through joy. Through loss. Through reinvention. Through all the versions I outgrow and all the new ones I have not met yet.
That is why this new chapter feels right.
The Woman in the Big Red Eyeglasses is not here because I have reached the finish line.
She is here because I am still looking around.
Still wondering.
Still making meaning.
Still laughing.
Still becoming.
This is still me
So if you have been here since The Spiritual Archer days, welcome back.
If you are new, welcome in.
The name has changed. The avatar has arrived. The glasses have taken up more space than expected. Niko is probably somewhere nearby, supervising. 🐾
But the heart of it remains.
This is still a place for stories. Still a place for questions. Still a place for becoming.
I am returning with more life behind me and, I hope, more honesty in front of me.
I am not coming back as someone who has mastered the journey.
I am coming back as someone still walking it.
Still paying attention.
Still telling the truth as best I can.
Still finding me.
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