There are moments in life when we meet people who feel like mirrors. All the qualities we long to recognise in ourselves appear so effortlessly in them. And then, as you spend time together, you realise something extraordinary: what you see in them is what they see in you. The connection becomes something rare and beautiful — a space where you bring out the best in one another, even though just days before you were strangers.
Their light illuminates your own. What they seek in you is often what you most need to see in yourself. In return, you offer them the very thing they were waiting for — the freedom to feel, to open, to be.
I met such a person on a retreat in Thailand. Her name is Teagan. Bright, warm, and endlessly encouraging, she saw into me in a way I had always hoped to be seen, though I didn’t realise it until it happened. She reflected back the very best parts of me — not the striving or uncertain self, but the me I was when I felt most alive, relaxed, full of love and joy. Around her, I noticed how much easier it was to let that version of myself breathe.
As the days unfolded, I came to see that her light was what made space for me to be at ease. She told me I did the same for her — that in my presence she felt safe enough to stop apologising for who she was, to share openly, and to feel herself belonging without hesitation. What she may not know is how crucial she became, not just a valued member of our small group, but an unforgettable and equal part of it.
One of the quiet joys of retreat is watching others soften, unravel, and remember who they are. Hosting, I imagine, makes this even more powerful — witnessing transformation from both inside and out. With Teagan, it was like watching layers of doubt dissolve, making space for self-love, ease, and courage. She wasn’t shrinking to fit; she was blossoming into who she already was. Apart from my own Saraswati breakthrough, this was my favourite part of the retreat.
Before we parted ways, I felt called to give her something to remember this by. We had spoken about crystals, and though she had never felt connected to them, she was curious about the way they could hold meaning, memory, and energy. On the last day, I gave her an amethyst — the first crystal I ever owned, known for its calm and grounding presence.
And here is where my reflection becomes a letter.
To my dear Teagan,
Sometimes, life gives us mirrors in the form of people. You were mine. In you, I saw the light I’d longed to believe was within me. And then, I realised — that was what you were seeing in me too.
From the first days in Thailand, your warmth and brightness wrapped around me. You reflected back the very best of who I am — the relaxed, joyful, open-hearted version of myself that I forget is always here. Around you, I softened. I felt at ease. I felt seen.
And what you may not know is that you did the same for me. You told me I gave you space to stop apologising for yourself, to speak freely, to belong without question. But Teagan, you were the one who made it safe for me to shine. You were not just part of our small group; you became its heartbeat.
Watching you on retreat was like witnessing someone remember herself — not moulding to fit, but blossoming into all that she already is. It was one of my favourite parts of our time together, and I will carry it always.
The amethyst I gave you is a reminder. That the brilliance you so easily see in others has always been your own, and when you forget, may it bring you back to the light that is yours.
You will forever be in my heart, Teagan — the girl who shines so brightly she doesn’t always realise the light is hers.
What strikes me most is how retreats hold space not only for personal breakthroughs but also for these unexpected encounters — people who become mirrors, anchors, and reminders of our own light. Connection becomes a form of self-discovery, and friendship itself a kind of practice.
Teagan was that gift for me. And if there’s anything I hope you carry from this story, it’s that the people we meet — sometimes for only a short time — can awaken parts of us we didn’t know we were ready to meet. Their light helps us see our own.
May we notice them. May we cherish them. And may we never forget the brilliance they remind us to remember.
