January 1, 2017


The little girl's heart beats inside the woman's body. Inside the exterior protection of the woman's experience with heartache making the spirit weary and in disbelief caused by unborn longing. The little girl's heart wanting to grow into its purpose, limited by the woman's reluctant shell. 

I've been there my darling, she tells herself. I've dreamed and unfolded with such hope that I fathomed it to be real. That power is reckless because it gives the illusion of flight only to fall when suspended in mid air. We break. I've broken too many times by my foolish hopes and trust. I have been reminded time and again that desire inflates your heart to believe it has wings. So blinded in the illusion of flight, in a blindness that there is magic in life again, only to rip it from your chest and crash in disillusionment. A bitter waking; a validation in the secret fret of this unfathomable possibility .  

I need to protect you, my sweet. Your belief is too strong. Your wish too great. Your fearless hopes will leave me bleeding on the ground from a reality that cannot support you. And it's happened often enough that I do not know if it will ever happen for us. I can't promise you anything or give you hope that your tender heart can break the barriers I have built over the years. 

To which the little girl's heart responded, 'I have witnessed your hesitation. I know too well your fears diffused was a wish to protect my innocence. Isn't innocence a vibrant wish and possibility in gestation? There is greater life in falling than the death cemented in not living.  I know your hurt is real. I have felt the disappointment when your darkness falls upon me and your heart slows its pace. I know far too well the confines of your shallow breaths. But you have also suffocated my purpose for being.'

She continued, 'I ask you, sweet experienced one, to brave each breath for us. For our combined hearts. My blind hopes and your wisdom. I beg of you to keep breathing life into both of us so that the spirit we carry will be freed in its knowing that life is beyond any reasoning. Our soul bestowed this gift upon us because we already carry courage, coeur, to brave a purpose and love again.'


If you read this as you lay your head down to sleep, or as your eyes are waking to a new day, or maybe as an intermission to the in between; I offer a potential perspective. Whether for the turn of a new year and the release of one fully lived, or whether you choose this offering as words for the moment's entertainment, may it be of benefit for your unique introspection. 

If there are pieces at which you have been picking away that don't seem to fit or that didn't match up to those grandiose expectations of yours, I can relate. You know the ones. It's those pieces that don't look like anyone else's masterpiece. Maybe those sections of your life that you constantly massage over, and try to perfect; at which you begrudgingly scuff in annoyance on a good day, and in disbelief on most; maybe those very pieces as a matter of fact, are your riches. 

Maybe the array of mis-matched oddities are what has given you your greatness. Maybe you are a dynamic to be reckoned with in contrast to your untouched, unopened, protected simple self from yesterday. Maybe those pieces are actually answered prayers and realized dreams. When we are uneasy, maybe it is a sign we are in the midst of of life's active fruition and we aren't ripe to step back in admiration quite yet. It's like an artist cloaked in vulnerability, clenching over the process of releasing its creation. 

These tender unveilings are our stories. Bits of our humanity we so secretly hide in utter terror of having lost our value to be loved. 

I am not where I imagined. It's a battle with myself to keep a house clean, a kid happy, to be a mother and a father in one. The bread winner, the soft mother figure, the desirable single woman, the artist, the wise teacher, the business prowess, and the conscious yogi; all sections of one pie. My body is not where I often expect it to be and my spirit frequently rebels in frustration for what isn't. Any given choice takes away from the other. I live in constant juggling and weighing options of which I empower and which will become deflated because of it. I feel spread so thin at times that I cringe knowing I can't be more to any one thing and I worry as often as I scroll through a never ending to do list, if I am ever enough. Enough for my son. Enough to sustain a household. Enough to raise a supported, emotionally healthy, conscious, curious, innocent, child. Enough to feed my own spirit so I may authentically radiate trust to his. Enough to grow and learn and have a shot at reaching dreams that will not let me be. 

I worry more than anyone should about giving my son a full home. My love is all I have and I give it unsparingly. I vowed to make sure he feels it so as to mend the gap of not having mom AND dad under one roof. He has never known what that is like and I worry that it will cast a hole in his heart greater than I could ever mend. (He was 18 months the last time he experienced it). And so I question if what I have is enough to compensate for what has been taken from him; as if it ever could; as if it were my role when I know far too well we each have our own paths. Like an obsessive banker counting the balance, I go over and over my capacity to make it alright. To be enough to make it alright.

Every other weekend, I kiss a forehead knowing I won't get to again for four days. And every other weekend, I cry. My heart breaks all over again as much as I scorn at it not to. This is a story I have tried to let go of for years. You see, maybe that's the catch. The more we try to depart from something, the more present it becomes in our lives. It's like compensating for an injury. My mind tries to carry my heart and tell it to accept. My brain says acceptance will numb the ache. It won't change. This is reality, it says. Accept and move on. 

My heart's response is a bit different. It hurts. Surrender, it says. And so I fall into the cloud of tenderness surrounding me. I wonder what this ache does to a Mother. The in and out of her little boy. The protectiveness of his heart foremost and the tending to her own when the empty space makes it hard to ignore. Surrender. It's all there is. I acknowledge my reality for what it is. I see the truth staring me in the face. Yes, it's painful. Yes, it's different and very few actually know what this existence feels like. I stare right back at it until it's ready to soften. 

I stare at this parenting alone. I've missed moments from 18 months to now 6 years old. I've missed 30% of his life and the only way to get past that is to; well, I don't know if you ever really do. It's a daunting task of going at it alone. Every single day. The heaviness of not having an emotional parenting partner to lift you when you need it. To yearn for your child when you want to see him, but a legal document stands in your way. This being whose life grew in you, and you can't see him at your free will because ironically enough, a document was crafted to create peace. Other parents will never know Christmas morning without their child's smile. They will never know when he cries that he misses you and you are forced to soothe his pain by cheering his visits with his father. They will never know what it feels like when your six year old knows that next year you will be together over Thanksgiving and he will be with his father on Christmas. He still has trouble knowing when he will be where during the week and you can't fathom yourself how someone can sleep in different houses multiple times a week. You will never know what it's like to desperately want to take these burdens away from your innocent child and to accept it was the best decision you could have made for everyone in the long run. You goddam hope so. 

Talk about the mother (no pun intended) of all challenges to surrender. So next time someone says, let it go, remember that comes with a grain of salt only you can fathom for yourself. No one will ever know the depths of you better than yourself. 

And here I am. Not quite measuring up to anyone else's life. I look nothing like my single friends and nothing like my son's friends' families. I don't quite fit in anywhere. It can be a mess. It can also be fullness. How many lives have I been granted in this one precious breath? How vastly blessed am I to find and offer meaning in so many avenues? 

With all of this pain, I have learned to seek refuge, and to find sweet relief in the underbelly of perception. I have been forced to use my voice and to accept the spaces in between what is. What is left after the reality makes a home with your life? You get to know it. All of it. Those hats I sometimes feel as weight, I also celebrate as open roads to be so much. I somehow, through this maze, have given myself the freedom to take each piece and taste every morsel.  It is powerful beyond measure. I am not what I expected myself to be. I am richer. I am much more interesting and full of experience to know compassion from the depths. Purpose is born after the mourning of a loss. It is what I have to give. 

I have taught a very young child the beauty of life because I have truly felt it. I have been forced to know myself inside out and to face the darkness that comes with an unexpected experience. Because of that, I've seen miracles in transformation. I've known forginvess out of deep pain. I've felt greater love out of a heart's yearning. I've been face to face with patience and trust in healing and in the grandeur that comes from allowing life to unfold. I bow to peace knowing it is as necessary as air. I have seen my own strength in rebuilding and in cultivating a life with so many facets. Perhaps I've seen my dreams come true. Not in a swift, fairytale story. That has never been my style. I'm much too stubborn and have always felt more value in getting dirty in order to earn what's worthwhile. My dreams of being so many different things have certainly come true. I have traveled around the world and back, in spirit, collecting knowledge and adventure in the unseen. My roots are deep and run far and wide. I stand taller than I ever could had I not lived this life. This precious and glorious life. 

I wish for you the richness and fullness of meaning.

What if we don't seek for happiness or achievement? What if we don't add to the pile of expectation with resolutions and wondering what to improve? What if we move knowing we contain everything we need? What if happiness already resides within us and all resolutions are based on seeing that we are fully equipped. Here. 

May we dare to meet life with a vengeance of trust. 

May life's response be a reflection of our heart's braving to see our already answered prayer. 

May the greater the undoing and the mess, the more strikingly beautiful and unprecedented the gift. 

We are living the manifestation to a future we cannot see until we are ready to collide. 

May your steps in the coming day and new year be inspired by trust that your masterpiece is declaring its existence. 

Meaning is asking you to unveil it. 

Aligned with your deepest knowing, I hope you feel it in your bones, the great fortune that you my dear, are art revealed. 


Choose again. 
 Begin again. 

With your open heart. 

With your brave love. 

Create what you want to see. 

We are free. 

We don't need to compensate for a past that is no longer. 

Start anew. 

Equipped only with knowledge that experience brings. 

Let that be your guiding light. 

This life you have tasted. 

Gather up the art you desire. 

Decorate your world as you've dreamed it. 

You were born for this. 

Not for the life you lived yesterday, but for the breath you are given right now. 

Begin again. 

With every breath, begin again. 

Much Love, 


One step in front of the other.

That's all. 

The rest is not up to you. 

Now go. 

Let that beautiful heart of yours lead the way. 

The universe will say yes, darling. 

Every time. 

All you have to do is ask. 

Ask and show up for your answer.

Much Love, 

Dear Love,

Dear, Love. It is there. We will meet in that space where we don't seek. The timeless place where we don't work or perfect. It is where desire becomes a curiosity without attachment. It is the playground of visions and admirations, free from burdensome results or voids to be filled. A space where I actually forget all about you, love, by the purposeful distraction of living joyfully.

I cannot seek for you when I am pouring my heart onto the page before me, and living in abandon of any time and measure. This holy space, where I give of myself free from the hesitation that judgement brings. You see, it is the same hesitation that has stalled our love. I release it and live in the lightness of experience without strategy. It is where the flow of life captures me and I willingly unravel to its unknowns. There, where love intoxicates my breath, with all of its chaos and uncertainty.

Our art is a rebellious laugh in gratitude that spirit is finally leading the way. It is there, in that space of clearing where we shall meet. Because in that liberation of celebrating what brings us life, we can see for miles. And though we may have exchanged many times in passing, this my sweet, is the sacred space where love becomes, us.


I'm flirting with the notion of falling in love with not knowing.


Today is your day. To those who have crossed my path. The gratitude I celebrate is because of you. You are my friends, and by virtue of your love, my family. Home. 
Today is all about you. Your second birthday. Because this friend would not be where she is without you. And life is particularly amazing with you in mine. 


The healing power of light, surrendered laughter, and untethered love. 

Without your permission, joy evaporates the heaviness. Turning the load of the impossible feat you carried, into nothing else but finding yourself here. Now. 

These moments, no matter how small, have been known to give freedom to hope. They have released the declaration for good! Despite the thick surrounding, giving way to the light still in you is an assured reminder of its shameless power. Joy sends you off with a smirk and a calm knowing, you will move forward. You will take a mightier step, right where you left off. 

I rise

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise.
I rise.
I rise.

     ~ Maya Angelou

I give myself. I extend my hand. I offer my sweat to lift the chins of those who have kept their down for far too long; for those who get through he day to afford their survival.

I offer my gifts inspiring purposeful living.
I loudly brave my heart, bowing to the meaning through my art; i will lift you until you find some through your own.

I give my voice for those who have lost trust on its landing.

I will speak loudly for those whose hearts' whispers have been muffled by posturing speakerphones.

I give myself.

I give my humanity.
Though it's been tested and battered. My spirit stands taller than my bones.

I shall rise above the prostitution of integrity chose for the mirage of safety.

I shall rise above the reaction of fear and the intimidation against equality.

Noise cannot dampen my wings.
It will not disturb my peace.

This thunderous spirit will emerge to meet yours in our healing.

Love will overwhelm to the mind's doubt and to the heart's surmise.

I rise.

Be a Blessing in Someone's Life

Be a blessing in someone's life. 

You will ease any questions relating to your purpose on this planet, when you lead with this intention. You will never know how many living beings have been deeply touched because of you. You may never truly grasp how expansive the wonder you radiate. 

It is not for you to quantify. 

Your magic is sparked by your trust. 

Be a blessing in someone's life. It is the heartbeat of all meaning. 

There, you will find the blessings in yours. 


A question is the birth of a whispered answer, yearning to be seen. 
It will appear. 

Let Silence find you. 

Or better yet, be so overwhelmed by noise, yours or external, that you seek the richness of quietude. 
Allow my restless mind to find peace so that my heart may speak its purpose. Oh gentle heart, remind me that opening is the only way to see and to be seen; to love and to be loved. 
It is the epicenter of our existence. 

In the despair of the discomfort, remind me that my body responds as it is told. 
In silence, the whispers of intuition can melt the brick and mortar I carry around as a body. Noise makes for heavy wings. And flying deems a lightness and a conviction, leaning into the unknown; leaning into those relentless winds. 

Embody your questions and brave an answer. Hesitation delays our experience of your medicine. Radical love is needed. Declared empathy and compassion cannot exist without your oxygen. Our presence of light must be louder than the shadows of fear.

Love can melt steel. 

Love can transform. 

We are starved for it, and aching to give it away. Live the exchange now. It is how we shrink the suffering. We must stand united in the transformation of uplift and compassion. Loudly. Mending wounds. Deflating darkness. Creating a new possibility. 

We are the answer. A supported collective. Honoring life by creating with the same paint brush that created us, and all living beings. We are the call to any question. 

Risk Your Tender Heart

Risk your tender heart

I promise it's worth it