Eight months ago, I had a feverish epiphany while reeling from a major professional transition. One of those seismic life moments that hurls you into the murky middle—the in-between—where all you know is that you’re no longer where you were, and you haven’t the slightest idea where you’re going. I was Dorothy waking up in Oz, except the tornado that landed me there was, at least partially, of my own making.

Second Flight was born from that anxiety-fueled, late-night creative tsunami. And to my surprise, the name stuck. Everything else? Not so much. The vision has been slippery—shape-shifting, recalibrating, resisting every attempt I made to pin it down. As Mother Superior sang in The Sound of Music, it’s been “like trying to pin a cloud upon the ground.”

I started to worry that I was letting this precious, potential-filled, fever dream of an idea slip away from me. That Second Flight—this tender, defiant thing I had birthed in a moment of pure vulnerability —was floating further and further from its original soul.

Naturally, I did what I do best: overthought it into oblivion.

But here’s the good news: after an emotional autopsy of the past year’s creative trail, I realized something oddly comforting. While I had certainly spread my wings in many directions, I hadn’t drifted as far as I feared. Every path, every project, every piece of content had circled around the same invisible question:

What happens when life gives you a second chance to become someone new—without having to become someone else?

Turns out, I was consistent. What was missing was the thru-line. The red thread. The flight plan, if we’re sticking to the metaphor.

Enter: The Monthly Lift.

The Monthly Lift is the structure I didn’t know I needed. It’s part editorial, part audio zine, part reflection capsule—and, if I’m being honest, probably part low-stakes therapy. It’s a home for stories that might otherwise vanish into the algorithm. A way to stitch together all the loose creative threads and say: Here. This means something.

Each issue will explore a theme—like this month’s focus on beginnings (and the endings we’re finally ready to name). You’ll find essays, voices from the community, recommended media, mini-missions, and thoughtful links. It’s honest. It’s hopeful. And occasionally a little messy.

This space is for anyone who’s pivoted, paused, burned out, or broken open—and lived to tell the tale. For anyone curious about reinvention that’s grounded in truth and reality. For people who think deeply, laugh loudly, crave great storytelling, and appreciate well-placed swearing.

I’ve spent years helping other people tell their stories. With Second Flight: The Monthly Lift, I’m finally building a home for mine—and maybe yours too.

Thanks for joining me on this journey.

Love,

Shannon