Have you ever had someone see a part of you that you weren’t ready to see in yourself?
It’s disorienting at first. A little breathtaking. It’s like being handed a mirror—but not the kind you look into. The kind that looks into you.
About a year ago, I was in Sedona—one of my favorite places in the world. That land has a pulse. A vibration. Something ancient that always seems to shake something loose in me. My husband and I were driving through town when we decided, on a whim, to stop at an outdoor art show in a parking lot. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular. But I’ve learned over the years: the good stuff always finds you when you’re not searching.
We wandered through booths—pottery, paintings, turquoise—and then I turned a corner and saw a jewelry case full of silver earrings. Dozens of them. Maybe fifty pairs. But one pair… one specific pair… stopped me. Eagle feathers. Carved in silver. Striking, strong, unmistakable.
I couldn’t look away.
But my first thought wasn’t, I need those.
It was, I don’t think I can pull those off.
I smiled, I nodded, I kept walking. I chatted with the artist about a squash blossom necklace, admired the craftsmanship, made pleasant conversation. But all the while, in the back of my mind, I was still with those earrings. I couldn’t shake them.
Eventually, I circled back.
“I love your work,” I told the man, “but there’s a pair of earrings I saw earlier that I just can’t get out of my mind.”
He smiled. “My wife will show them to you.”
She walked over, and I pointed to the pair. She didn’t hesitate. She looked me directly in the eyes—no, deeper than that. Into something behind my eyes. And she said, simply:
“Oh… a leader.”
I must’ve looked confused, because she repeated it.
“My husband said he was making those for a leader when he finished them last week.”
I stood there holding them, not quite sure what to say. I could feel the resistance bubbling up—the voice that wanted to say, Me? A leader? Surely not the one he had in mind.
She said, “Try them on. They’re for you.”
And in that moment, I understood. Not logically, but soulfully. Something in me recognized the truth of it.
Now, if the more cynical version of me had been standing there that day, she might’ve rolled her eyes. Might’ve brushed it off as a sales line. But that’s not the version of me who showed up.
Leader Leslie was there.
And she knew exactly what the woman meant.
I do lead.
I lead women to healing.
I help them hear their own voice again.
Those earrings—the eagle feathers—weren’t just beautiful. They carried meaning. In many tribes, eagle feathers symbolize leadership. Honor. Strength. Connection to the divine.
When the artist returned, he smiled. “I made those for a leader. I’m glad they found you.”
And I believed him.
Because sometimes—if we’re lucky—someone sees something in us that we’ve been too hesitant, too humble, or too unsure to claim. It can feel jarring at first, almost like being caught in the act of becoming. But what if that recognition isn’t random? What if it’s the universe gently nudging you to step fully into the truth of who you already are?
These moments don’t always arrive with fireworks. Sometimes they come wrapped in silver feathers behind glass, waiting for you to remember yourself.
So here’s what I’m learning: when someone reflects a truth about you that feels too big, too bold, or too beautiful to believe—pause.
Let it in.
Don’t deflect. Don’t shrink.
Just try it on.
You might be surprised how perfectly it fits.
About the Author
Leslie Nance is a Holistic Cancer Coach, Certified Holistic Nutritionist, speaker, and author. She helps women heal with clarity, courage, and soul. Writing and teaching about mindset, wellness, and living a life that feels as good on the inside as it looks on the outside.
