Nameless yet extraordinary

oneIf I lean deep into the blood red curves and crevices that mold and hold my heart, I can see them, the winding spiral of stories strung like garland and sewn together with ache and love. It’s all there, layers upon layers of divots and dents, bursts and blooms, composted and collaged together laying fertile for the next planted seedling. I till and I till, waiting for that fresh smell of earth so good I could swallow it down in gulps.

Without really knowing why, I say “yes”. Yes to whatever comes, yes to the unknown, and I walk with eyes closed across a bridge lined with roaring waters. I smell salt, I smell the vast open space, the cool breeze and sun kissing my skin without promise, only trust. Trust is my word this year, and I have taken it into my belly without question, letting it grow and squirm and turn like a new babe waiting to be birthed. I do not recognize myself anymore, I am changed and I am good, so good.


Magnificent things happen in nameless moments, like pushing a strand of hair away from the eyes just so we can see. We can’t help feel the most dramatic shifts, the ones that steal our minds and drag us through the torrent, the ones that make us grip firm with our toes and dig deep into the dirt that birthed us, the ones that burn our flesh free like the phoenix in promise for something new, but it’s the softness in the subtle that begs me to peel my eyes and watch more closely. I don’t need to fly too high or dive too deep to find the magic that exists behind nothing special. All things can end and all things can begin in every given moment, and that makes any given moment the most important one of all.


This September, I will begin my journey into becoming a Sacred Passage Doula, or a death doula. It may be the most important thing I ever do, and yet maybe it won’t. Things–people, animals, cycles, relationships, jobs, seasons and so on… die all the time, and my little human brain cannot even fathom the whole of it. I am humbled by all that I cannot conceive and yet I am drawn to this work, to witness with respect, love, and compassion the passing of a soul from this life to the next. To embrace the ultimate vulnerability, work at death’s side by holding hands with the last breath of a human’s heart. Dang… The enormity of it overwhelms me, yet I believe my whole purpose is living this life so deeply and fully that there is nothing  left to feel except the”yes”–to bury myself further into the watery womb of connection and sync my breath closely with the sea of souls that push past in crowds or run and dance through the streets alongside me. This, this is a purpose well worth witnessing and surrendering to.


Until then, there is summer, sun-drenched and heat brimmed summer, lazy mornings, long hikes, voracious reading and wet afternoons summer. Watermelons, sparklers, dancing with friends, and tubing kind of summer. The digging in the dirt, cooking dinner for the homeless, making trails kind of summer. An “I just turned 45 yesterday” kind of summer. A boy’s 14th birthday, a visit from my brother and nephew, a trip to California to house/farm/garden sit for a beautiful Songbird and friend that I can’t wait to meet in person kind of summer. This will be the best one yet…

Wishing you a wonderful summer, the nameless yet extraordinary kind…



A little bit messy


I wish I could say 2016 has been off to an extraordinary start. Well, it has been extraordinary but not in the way that lifts me off to the moon in a surreal sort of ecstasy. This is more of the messy kind of extraordinary, the kind where I am desperately trying to grip the mane on an unbridled, runaway horse, trusting that she will take me somewhere I am suppose to go, I don’t know where.

My word this year is trust. Trust what comes next, trust I am where I am supposed to be, trust my children, trust my husband, trust the growth and the shedding process, trust the ever changing ways of evolution, from the magical microcosm within my cells to the expansive universe that I can only fathom in an elusive corner of my mind.


To dwell too much in the woe of Mercury Retrograde would be self serving, but the parts I do want to share have to do with death and the parting of old souls, letting go and letting shit just happen.

My grandmother is dying. I leave early tomorrow morning to hopefully see her one last time in the body that is no longer hers. At 95 years old she has experienced and seen far more things than I could ever write about. I tried once to record her life story while we were on a road trip together, but in the end what we shared instead was a conversation. A conversation about life and living, sorrows and regrets, the things she will never forget, and the things that made her life worth living. What I know most about her is that our souls touched, connecting on a level beyond language and family. All the other details of her life don’t really belong to me, they are hers and hers alone.


This week I’ve been locked out of my house twice, my old van’s radiator broke and the garage door cable snapped. Meanwhile, I’ve become the new director of operations in my husband’s business and I will start teaching the love of dance to children next week. My daughter turned 11 last week and we spent her birthday re-creating Alice in Wonderland, having our own Mad Hatter Tea Party while soaking in the wise words of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, a.k.a. Lewis Carroll.


A wise friend wrote this past week “The less you focus on how external things, people, or events, are affected, and more on how YOU are handling the letting go and it’s repercussions, and what it means for YOUR purpose, the stronger your spiritual evolution.”

Flux is a constant. Instability is constant. Death is constant, as is birth. I will grieve. I will let the tears flow, and then I will wipe them away. Love will pour in to the vacancies of my body, mind and heart because the messiness of vulnerability allows it to, because I allow it to. We are surrounded by love even when we can see beyond our nose, even in the darkest parts of midnight and the coldest moons of winter. Just extend your arm and reach, just a little further…


Much much love to you




Trust and the undeniable unpredictable


I see it now, the limitless purpose of the moving, invisible finish line.

I clasp with weathered hands, squeeze, and hold firm to the Uncomfortable. Digging my feet into the earth, I relax my lips and draw in a deep, nourishing breath, giving in to the knowledge that the full opus of who I am may never be completed. Every, single moment is a surrender to the undeniable unpredictable. Sustained, crystal clarity is but an enigmatic shadow, like the glorious pink and purple sunsets I crave, fabulous yet fleeting until the next rising sun.

“Endings and beginnings are merely paired facets of an imagined stone curtain, behind which a plethora of opportunities await.”
~Ged Thompson, Liverpool Poet


328 year old Southern Live Oak

My daughter often asks me why good things have to end. Why playdates can’t last 3 days and why fantastical stories are only 175 pages long. She is too young to know the value of the darkness, though we tell stories in the dark, though we can only bask in the brilliant moon in the dark, though stars can only illuminate the way in the dark. Pain seeps through our soft crevices when we have to say goodbye to the things we love, to the things that make us happy, to the things that scintillate our earthly skin. But it’s never “goodbye”, only “until next time.”

“There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.”
~Frank Herbert

We are all extraordinary and the lives we paint are meant to bring shivers up any spine for the power and energy we emit. This is the shine of our radiant, authentic souls that only borrow our human body for the experiences we create. Only by diving through fire, dancing with ecstasy, and climbing through pain can true enlightenment–ever so brief– be touched. Then we must do it all over again–begin…again and again. I can accept this. I can accept this because this is the only promise I am owed. The promise that my life is meant to circle every color of the rainbow, every shade of light emitted through the living prism–birth, growth, death and rebirth. I am evolution for stagnation is a soul’s death beyond measure. The only thing required of me, the only challenge I must face with every pregnant, beautiful breath, is to trust, trust the undeniable unpredictable, love it even. Trust…trust that no matter what stops, what fails, what rises, or falls, that it will all soon begin again. There is no end, no finishing line, just one beautiful, sparkling spiral.

“A Woman in harmony with her spirit is like a river flowing. She goes where she will without pretense and arrives at her destination prepared to be herself and only herself ”

~ Maya Angelou


Happy New Year and much love to you all….


when everything old is new again

a conversation

And so it begins, a new year, a new blog, and a new word to highlight and inspire the next 12 months. It’s awesome what a single word can muster, little symbols in succession holding energy for hope, inspiration and movitation. A thoughtfully chosen word can be a beacon for me, a homing signal to follow and realign with when the days get lost, harried, unexpected, or mundane, which inevitably they always do.

First though, I have to tell you a little story about last year’s word “Voice”. Year three was quite the hump year for me in terms of writing and blogging. When I chose the word “Voice”, I was searching for something, anything to point me in a new direction, give me just a sliver, an inkling of an idea of what I am suppose to do with this “one wild and precious life”.  A new career, a new focus, a new identity? But instead of a gentle, guiding beacon, that word gave me a solid, white, daunting and immoveable, brick wall.

Was I asking too much, wanting too much? Who knows, but with that wall came anxiety, boarding up spaces in my mind so there was no room to expand, dream or create. For months, writing became labored and difficult. I was distracted and distant. I would sneer at my desktop as I walked by, professing that I would not sit there and stare at the screen that day. An internal civil war ensued where one side told me to “quit the blog- there is nothing to give, no voice, no purpose!”, and the other said “no don’t let it go, not yet, just wait.” Whatever the problem was, it felt bigger than writer’s block, bigger than a temporary setback.

What kind of irony was this anyway?? I ask for Voice and found absolute nothingness, silence. I was stonewalled by my own brain. I had no other option since Voice decided to vacate, so, I surrendered. I just stopped, stopped asking the questions, stopped pressuring myself for answers. I allowed the silence to dampen and seep into the crevices all around that wall. I just enjoyed my days. I spent much less time online (sorry bloggy friends!), reduced blogging other than an occasional post here and there, and did very little crafting of any sort, even fewer photos and polaroids… I focused on my kids and their school activities by volunteering more, spent more time with friends, spent more time reading (yay!), and let my head center on mindless, household, busy work. And in that quiet, away from all that rush and eagerness to define Voice, when movement slowed and silence reigned, groundedness and understanding did gracefully emerge.

Sometimes we ask for things we already have. Peace, happiness, abundance, confidence, love, patience, friendship, voice…We just don’t know it because somewhere we made up our minds that what we have, what we can do, is just not enough. In Blogland, when we have that opportunity to peek into other people’s lives, we can’t help but compare sometimes. And even if we are vigilant of our own Egos, it is cunning enough to slink into the rear alleys of our minds. Suddenly we want more. I wanted more. I wanted to be that artist, that photographer, that writer. I searched for Voice, everywhere but here. And so it took a wall, and it took silence, and it took leaving for awhile to realize that Voice was not something to be hunted, or chased, or wished for. Voice is something we all already have, something to be cultivated only by believing in ourselves.

Voice is here, always, in the way we move or speak, in the way we care or show love, in the way we relax, the way we laugh, the way we retreat into solitude or release sadness. For me, it’s also in the dreams I’ve had all my life. It’s in the way I create, or shoot photographs, and most importantly, it’s in the way I write and share my stories, my life. The moment I sought Voice elsewhere, I found a silent wall in its stead, until I remembered again my own value, my own core. And by filtering out any dreams born out of fear, impulsiveness and insecurity, I did find Voice again. Just in the knick of time too, just in time to say goodbye to 2013, just in time to find a new blogging platform and seek a new word for this year.


I learned a hard lesson last year, one that almost cost me something that I love to do. I began blogging because writing was the only way I knew how to unbottle and sort out all the details of my own stumblings, evolution and gain. And because I thought someone, somewhere might identify with what I was trying to say, how I was trying to live, and want to take what I had to give. It is the essence of why I am here– vulnerability, honesty, learning and evolution, soul-searching, depth, and the love of words, storytelling, sharing and connecting–the marrow and soul of why I love to write. And so quite naturally, my word for 2014


noun 1the intrinsic nature or indispensable quality of something, esp. something abstract, that determines its character.

I want to stay connected with the essence and soul of my writing. I want to pause on the truest nature of why I do anything and make sure intentions are aligned. What essentially, does something mean to me and is it worth the energy? I want to take heed of and hear my most sincere voice, bearer of my deepest dreams, then share earnestly my experiences with words, actions, and heart. 2014 is going to be an incredible year, not because something remarkable and astounding is going to happen, but because we make our lives remarkable and astounding just by being our truest, most essential selves.

Happy New Year friends and thank you always for reading.


ps. It’s my girl’s birthday today, 9 years old. Happy Birthday darling Little Bee..