Wanting More Is Reason Enough

On Full Circle Moments & Finding New Answers to Old Questions

Welcome to And Also, a weekly newsletter about self-discovery through story. I’m Jenna — writer, narrative guide, astrology lover, and a firm believer that who we are and what we’ve lived is always a story worth telling. Every Wednesday, I share personal reflections, thoughtful questions, and a little bit of cosmic insight to help you explore your inner world, shape your outer expression, and find meaning in the messy middle. If you ever want to talk through your own story, you can book an Office Hours session with me.

Photo of the main lodge at Breitenbush, taken by me

In January 2017, four days after I told my then-husband that I thought we should separate, I got on a plane and flew to Portland. My friend, Jen, picked me up from the airport and together we drove down near Detroit, Oregon, to a retreat center called Breitenbush.

Jen had reserved a cabin for the two of us and two other friends; she assured me I didn’t need to pay her back.

“It’s my treat,” she told me. “You need this right now.”

And she was right. I did.

Both Internet and cell service are inaccessible at Breitenbush. The entire space is off-grid, operating only from the power of the river and heat from the hot springs. For the next four days, we alternated between sleeping in our snow-covered cabin, hiking the trails to the soaking pools, curling up in the communal library to read for uninterrupted hours, and facilitating our own rune ceremonies in the sanctuary.

It was exactly the space I needed at that specific time — quiet, disconnected, and healing.

And this past weekend, we returned. Jen flew into Portland on Friday afternoon, and together we drove back to Breitenbush for the weekend.

It was obviously a different experience — we went during the summer this time (and during a heat wave, no less! 🥵) and I’m not going through a difficult breakup right now — but, for a lot of reasons, it felt very much the same.

This week is also the last week of my memoir workshop (an experience I didn’t even know I’d have when Jen and I planned this trip months ago), and the period of life I’ve been writing about the most is around that time I first went to Breitenbush.

To be writing about that painful part of my life, and then to return to the place I went to while it was happening — to the place where I was first able to catch my breath and consider a new path forward — felt fated. It felt full circle.

It was the perfect time and place to pause — to turn off the emails and the Slack messages and the daily to-dos of my life; to see how far I’ve come from that first trip eight years ago, and figure out where I might want to go from here.

Keep Reading to Find:

• Edited excerpts from my journal*

• Insights from some personal tarot pulls

• Tidbits of conversations with a couple kind strangers

Friday, August 8, 2025

When I told Jen earlier tonight that this trip felt full circle, she asked me to explain.

I said that when I was here before, I thought you could only leave a situation that no longer felt right by “blowing it up”. Now, the question I’m asking myself is:

Can you walk away from something that is good — but not good enough — without burning it all down?

I guess what I’m really asking is: Is it actually okay to want more than “good enough”? And can the fact that I want more be reason enough to go?

Our yurt

Saturday, August 9, 2025

The butterflies here have zoomies. They flit and fly in incongruous circles, seeming to chase each other, dance around us, and enjoy the expansiveness of this large lawn in front of the main lodge.

Earlier this afternoon, I watched a butterfly cross the threshold into our yurt, and I thought, “Oh no!” It immediately flew to the one window with the shade pulled aside, fluttering furiously against the pane as it tried to find its way back out.

“Is this a metaphor for my life?” I thought. “Just leave the room!”

Eventually, Jen gently coaxed the butterfly away from the window with her fingers and I quickly pulled the shade — that tricky appearance of freedom back to the outside world — shut.

The butterfly flew towards the door and paused at the frame before flying out and up again.

Sunday, August 10, 2025

At breakfast, I sat with my new friend, Rob. A year ago, he left his job to figure out what he’s here to do; how he’s meant to contribute in an ever-shifting world. He’s been journeying — literally, metaphorically — ever since.

I told him I’ve also been on a purpose-finding journey; that I think, for most of us, our purpose is to turn around and teach others how to go through what we’ve just gone through.

For me, I said, what I’ve gone through is peeling back every layer, every story, of who someone or something else told me I was or told me I had to be; for me, it’s been getting back to my authentic core and living from that place.

Later, in the hot springs, I met another new friend named Jerome. He’s at Breitenbush to process a breakup, and I told him that was me eight years ago; that this is the perfect place for him to be.

When he asked, “If you could do anything, anything, anything, what would you do?”, I said, without pause, “Write books”. I told him that I was working on the outline for a memoir that is set starting around the time that I first came to Breitenbush; that this experience feels like coming back to where I started, to finish up the story.

He said the water was reflecting the sparkling sun on my face as I said it.

Inspired by the expansiveness I’ve been feeling, I talked with Jen at dinner: How do I step out of my day-to-day routine more? How do I remove some of the strictures of always being “on”? How can I create space in my life to allow something new in?

After we brainstormed a bit, she pulled tarot cards for me:

My challenges: I’m in a transitional phase marked by a necessary, but possibly uncomfortable, ending (10 of Swords) — and while clarity and fresh ideas are emerging (Ace of Swords), I may still be untangling myself from old mental traps and self-limiting patterns (8 of Swords reversed).

My opportunities: By releasing what no longer serves me (8 of Cups), I can create space for deeper emotional fulfillment and alignment with my intuition (Queen of Cups). These cards point to a softer, more compassionate way of living — rooted in self-trust, emotional intelligence, and nurturing my own needs as much as others’.

My takeaway: I’m closing out a chapter, and as I release old stories, clarity is breaking through — guiding me away from what no longer nourishes me and towards a more intuitive, fulfilling way of being.

I look at my cards and think back on what I shared with Rob at breakfast — you teach what you need to learn, I guess.

On the journey home

Monday, August 11, 2025

Today, during our last hot springs soak before hitting the road, I asked Jen what she let go of under the recent Aquarius full moon.

After answering, she posed the question back to me, and I said I’m letting go of the story that I can’t have it all; that to play small means I avoid disappointment, when really it means I live with low (and sometimes high!)-level disappointment all the time.

“Maybe it’s not that you want too much,” she said, “ . . . but that you’ve been asking for too little.”

I shuffled the tarot deck one more time before we started packing up. “What am I taking with me after this weekend?” I wondered.

Ace of Swords, Rose Quartz, 3 of Pentacles (reversed), it said: Fresh perspective, self-love, reevaluate community and collaboration.

My Takeaway: I am leaving with a fresh perspective: wanting more is reason enough to walk away from the wrong things. I can leave with love — for myself and others — and step toward what truly fulfills me without losing all I’ve gained, all I’ve learned, from whatever I may leave behind.

Thank you for the space to see that, Breitenbush. Once again, I needed this right now.

*I realize that the somewhat ambiguous nature of my journal entries may invite some curiosity. My point in this post wasn’t to be mysterious — mostly because I’m still figuring out my next steps myself! — and more so to share my personal process of rewriting a story I’ve been telling myself, particularly since I got to revisit it from a new place of wisdom and growth at a familiar place I hold so dear. And you know me: I’ll certainly have more to share soon!

Share a time when you returned to a place from your past and felt that “full circle” moment. What did you notice about yourself — or the stories you tell yourself?