Wanting. Part 2.


"Changing women. We begin again like the moon."

~ Terry Tempest Williams

For years I walked through the world looking down. I was afraid. Of eyes, of knowings, of sensuality, of owning my female wild-ish woman.

Looking up meant my entire world would start to change, open, shift. I was terrified of what that meant or would look like. For the last few years I have exploded inside of an awakening that has pulsed through me and given rise to a sexual, sensual woman who has, what feel like, wings.

A feathered torso of sensual understanding and faith.

At 43 (in one day), I am new. My body is changed, shaped newly and carrying years of abuse through dieting and not enoughness.


I look up.

In eyes that look back.

I face the camera towards myself and let myself look.

Even when it is hard. Especially when it is hard.

I look up. I see the colors, the black and white, the gray.

I look up. I am seeing the parts of me that held shame and stories that weren't mine.

I look up. I look at you. I see you.

Sexy and sanguine are the feelings we can capture together. There is never a right time, a right weight, a right relationship or a right age to be led by your sensuality, your sexuality, your gorgeous knowing of feminine self. It is a claiming of romancing your own skin, your physical body and your deeply gorgeous soul.

It is confidence in your own truth.

I have learned to paint my beauty by numbers so that every day, even the ones where I struggle to look in the mirror, I have a path to follow and see.

And my seeing is often most intense when my eyes are closed and I am feeling into this practice of devoting myself to my joy.

There is a tendency to complicate our journeys; a mixing in of too much noise, others words confusing our own feelings, believing that we can't truly know and adore ourselves until we do xyz.

Therapy and gym memberships and diet books and divorce can be true supportive needed and yet there are steps we are skipping along the way to build our own foundations of truth and beauty and awakenings.

We are ever changing like the moon. It is time to truly know her...


Wanting. Part 2.

I love cupcakes. Like serious love affair with a chocolate with vanilla frosting or a lemon with lemon frosting. Lemon. Lemon.

Gluten-free. That one bite.

For years I didn't allow myself to even have one bite of almost anything that didn't fit on my list of acceptable foods.

And then I started doing the practices that have become my devotional. 

Everything changed.

Now, if I pour a glass of Prosecco and maybe add some lavender bitters or cassis and I cut a piece of a cupcake, just one or two bites, I am in sensual heaven.

The colors and sounds of the bubbles, the feel of the soft frosting in my mouth, the taste of just enough sweetness without being overwhelmed.

This bite is sexy.
This bite feels sexy. 


I stay in the bubble of sanguine when I don't drink too much or eat too much sugar. I stay in the bubble of sanguine when I don't deny myself things that bring me sensual pleasure.

My savory one bite (more like 3 bites) is a huge, juicy scallop, buttery and salty with a squeeze of lemon. I don't need a plate of them, I can have just a couple, letting each bite satisfy me and transport me into sensual bliss.

For a warm up think about your one bite. 

Think about who is with you or if you are having a sacred quiet moment with just you.

Do you close your eyes for this bite or are you fully open in all your senses?

Those of you in the program we'll meet on FB and play around sharing our one bites with each other. 

If you'd like to join, there is still time. We begin with this warm up. All you need is a camera (camera phones are awesome) and a blank journal for the soulwork prompts. 

I can't wait for you to truly know her.

On the eve. Wanting. Part 1.


“I want to sing like the birds sing, not worrying about who hears or what they think.”

~ Rumi

Last year I wrote my want list.

As I was preparing this letter to you, because the eve is my favorite of anything, I read over the words that have sat undisturbed for over a year now. 

I want to start leaving love notes for my kids in surprise places. 

I want more kisses. Deep. Long. For no reason and all the reasons. 

I want to fight less, laugh more, fear less, risk more. 

I want to use my voice in the times when I can't find it, use it, allow it. 

I want my hair to feel beautiful again. 

I want time to expand as I pack up my boxes for the unknown of a storage unit. 

I want to eat a chocolate chip cookie out of the oven, with my littles, cold glasses of milk and homework spread out around us. 

I want the farmhouse to come alive in whatever shape it will take first for me so I have a home for my family. 

I want to feel beautiful in my photos again. Or still. 

I want more nights talking with him and our friends, learning and sharing stories, and feeling so connected. 

I want to drive the boat all on my own, letting the fear be overcome by joy. 

I want to write more again, in new ways, with ideas that have yet to find me. 

I want to hold space for letting things go. Things. Stuff. Clothes. Extra. 

I want my body to feel strong and tall and capable. 

I want money in the savings account to stay there and grow. 

I want coffee with cream in bed while I snuggle inside the cool white sheets. 

I want to feel sexy again when I climb on top of him and feel him become part of me. 

I want water to be my guide.

The anticipation of the time before. The looking back. 

I drive the boat, it feels like the closest thing to flying. I just had a hair make over. The farmhouse manifested and was said goodbye to, all within the space of those wantings finding their way from my heart and out. 

There are things I am still in the wanting of. On that list. That have changed as I have.

In two days I will step into another year. Sometimes it feels almost impossible the movement of life, the forcing of the surrender to time.

In the morning we begin inside the wanting.

The women are gathering because they crave knowing what they want, how they want to feel.

Because they feel wrong in their skin.

Because they can't look in their own eyes.


Because it is one of the greatest gifts a woman can give to herself to devote a practice to adoring her skin and spirit.

Because healing.

Because freedom and sensuality and connection.

Because being seen.

Because sex hasn't been there and it is time to bring it back, by infusing something that long ago was or has longed to become.

Because confidence is a practice. A devotional ritual. 

Because sensuality changes everything.



In wanting, the idea is to focus on what makes you feel good or what you sense or intuit will make you feel good, not on what you don't have or are lacking.

When we know what we want (desire), and feel it fully, we line up the vibrations to live inside of that.

We must want to feel sexy and sanguine before it can find us.

Make the words your own.

For me sexy and sanguine is confidence that sends out a vibration to others and flows back into me and living inside of a daily devotional practice of gentle sensuality and an intentional safe and free sexuality.

It is walking out into the world knowing some of the things we'll play with in the next couple of weeks.

Make it yours.

Grab a thesaurus, go into some magazines for found words (more on this soon) or just let your stream of consciousness take over.

Today open that book or journal and create your own want list. This does not need to be poetic or typo free, just real and true and yours.

If you were inside of this work last year, go back and see what you wrote. Find your words that have been lying still as mine have. See where they have taken you.

Mama turns 15


I found the headshot in a box that my mom gave me. She took on the task of cleaning out the basement Patrick and I shared for 10 years. I am not sure either of us would have done it.

Divorce is hard enough without going through every box of memories you hold with that person. I knew how free he would feel when it was done. I knew how scared I was of those boxes and bins. Gratefully she gave me my past in boxes I could choose to open or wait on.

We did the headshots my Senior year of college. I graduated a semester early and was invested in following my acting dreams. But mostly I followed him. To Seattle.

It was there that something changed inside me. I can't find the remembrance of it, I just know the feeling.

I had my crazy blonde hair, bleached by own hand. I was 21. I was hyper sexual. I was hyper sensual. I was hyper sensitive.

He said to me right before we settled into our soft separation, "I always thought that when we were together I wasn't a jealous person. I realize now that you never did anything to make me jealous. Ever."

And it was true. I knew that he had that part of him, he had told me stories. We were both so young and all the things we didn't know or understood came through as fear.

I knew I was strongly attracted to other people, almost always. I just have that about me. 

I didn't need to act on an attraction or a turn on sexually, I just lived inside that vibration, but what I became terrified of was that I no longer felt I could be me inside of that attraction.

For me it was energy. Connection. When we are turned on by life, by people, by the sensory pleasure of food or touch or words or the softness of fabric that infuses into how we show up.

I did make sure he was never jealous. I felt the need to protect him from my essence. To change. To become without understanding what was happening.

The day my friend pointed out the men walking down the street past us admiring me I walked into the salon and cut off my hair. All of it.

It wasn't until the day I felt my awakening that she came back to me. The one who held a sensual desire for life. The one who was brave. The one who would push edges. The one who felt her sexuality infuse in her spirit. 

The one who wanted her hair back.

My mama name turns 15 today. He and I made beautiful babies. They are even more amazing kids. He said, "Through many failures we have succeeded in many ways. We have great kids. I love them. They wouldn't be them without you. Thanks for being you. Thanks for being a great mother to our kids."

It wasn't his doing that I chose to shut down parts of myself. I chose it. It was the safe option. 

And it stripped me of my freedom inside of love.

When you have kids anything you have done to create that safety rises up and asks of you over and over to shed what isn't yours.

Over the years all of our safety vanished. There was no more.

We were stripped down.

And I found her again. Just like that photo in the box. 

When I met Dave I made a soul contract with myself that I would always and forever be inside of love with every truth, the ugly ones and the beautiful ones.

He is lit up by my turned on living. He is turned on when I am lit up. 

Living in this is a devotional to life love safety freedom joy surrender truth faith softness risk sensuality sanguine.

I can't believe she is 15.

Here we are. 

We made it. He is better. I am better. We are better.

15 years ago there she was, in my arms.

I will honor her for always by living this life the only way possible.

In all of me. Fully in. 

Turned on. Lit up. And for now, with a lot of blonde hair.

I set myself free.

And now we are amazing.

Happy Birthday Chloe Rane.

I can't wait to see who you become too.


What changed me.


(photo by Catherine Just)

My first tattoo was a bird on the back of my wrist.

I was 37 and as the ink sunk into my skin it was like someone was turning my skin inside out revealing the being that had been laying inside watching and waiting for her time.

In college I would see small black tattoos inked on women's skin. I would see the hoops circled inside their noses. 

Patrick (the man I was with for 21 years) made a comment once, when we were probably in our young 20's that he didn't like nose piercings after I expressed my adoration for them.

He doesn't remember saying it, as we discussed over a decade later. And yet, that one comment stopped me from stepping into a becoming that I had desired for so long.

My story was that he didn't like them so I couldn't have one. I couldn't have what I wanted because someone I loved didn't like it.

I have no idea how much of me lived like that. 

The inside out version of myself.

The first day we met he had asked me out for coffee. The building I lived in and he worked in had a coffee shop in one of the hallways.

I asked him instead to come over to my Loft and I would make us coffee.

I didn't know he hated coffee and had planned on getting hot chocolate. I knew about myself that meeting him in public, awkwardly standing in line, wondering who would pay and showing up inside of anxiety would feel like torture.

My skin had already been turned right side out and I was becoming a master at knowing what I needed.

At this point in time I knew :: I have a reasonable dose of social anxiety. I feel safe in my own spaces. I don't do small talk. I have no idea how to go on a date. My magic is intensified when I am comfortable, no shoes, no bra, no worrying about details that will take me out of my body.

So I invited him to come to me. 

I never thought about how different from him I was. I never thought about my tattoos or nose piercing or the dreaded braids in my hair. I never thought about how his world was something I knew nothing about.

All I thought about was the feeling that was wiggling inside of me. This iteration of me sat at the table with him and felt so proud of who I was and the life I had built.

I didn't expect to fall in love with him, it was already written in the visions and dreams and walking prayers. 

Two hours later it was the calmest I have ever felt when hugging him good-bye. Knowing he was having the same feelings wiggling inside of him.

When we felt ready to share our relationship with his side of our life I was promoting Sexy and Sanguine.

I've been publicly writing and blogging since my 9 year old was 5 months old. I am sensitive to others in my life, I use my intuition.

And. I am quite open. Because my skin turned right side out. Because I pretended in my life for so long I was never ever ever ever going to turn back.

What happens when people who don't understand who you are, your language, your intentions, your skin, your tattoos, your choices or your heart become the people who are now devouring every word you write, every photo you share, every possible piece they can use as ammunition for anger and fear against you?

You recoil. You flail. You fall. You start to turn your skin back inside and you expose your anger and your impatience and your fear of not being enough. Of being wrong. Of being unlovable. 

So many women have commented that our blending of families has been so beautiful and loving. And it has.

And also.

It has almost turned my skin back inside. I have never felt more raw and exposed.

I have deleted blog posts. I have deleted photos. I have erased words written. I have hidden parts that could not be exposed.

I have been angry. Really, really angry.

That anger and fear have stopped me from being as prolific as I was.

That anger has kept me from running programs that I once was.

That anger, I know, is the fear that I have done something wrong. That I've displeased. That I have pierced my nose and someone doesn't like it. That I have put a picture on the internet that makes someone else want to tear me down.

Yes. The blending of our families has been beautiful and it came at a cost for both of us.

There is no way to do divorce or loving again right. In fact it may be the biggest lesson in failure either of us have ever experienced. 

So much fear.

Last night the kids were at their dad's and Lucas got a horrible headache and was throwing up. His dad was texting me and keeping me updated on him as he fell asleep. I kept texting him through my tears.

"Is he ok?"

"Yes. I am right next to him on the couch."

"Ok, thank you." "Is he ok still?"


I cried and felt afraid. Because I wasn't there. Because I had to be a mama sitting on a couch in another house away from them.

And this man who sits beside me on the couch rubbed my jaw and tickle rubbed my arm and my tears slowed down.

We haven't done so much of this right. The words have been erased. Pictures taken down. I would do so much of the past in a different way.

Once I risked turning my skin right side out I was so attached to being authentic that I couldn't believe that anyone else would be any other way.

I couldn't find compassion for people who said things about me that hurt.

I couldn't find my way to trusting that this wasn't going to twist my skin back around.

The last two years have felt censored and filled with hurt and hard as shit. 

My fear has slowed down my work. My fear has led to a hibernation of sorts.

Last night, as I cried and he kept rubbing my arm, he told me I was an amazing mother.

Last night, as sure as I know anything, I knew that fear was never going to go anywhere, it was only going to create openings for more and more and more compassion and deeper faith where before I was faithless.

God, Universe, Spirit have been speaking to me and laying down small signs that feel like the lightest of breaths on my neck.

I am being reminded that my words are prayer. And prayer is my surrender. And surrender is the intersection between acceptance and change.

We don't have only one moment in time of turning right side out. 

We have unlimited moments, possibilities.

We don't have to hold on to only one awakening, we are a becoming that is ours to design.

We can forgive on repeat.

We can love without having to be right.

I've been getting messages about running Sexy and Sanguine again from women in my circles for months now.

I keep saying, "Yes, yes, of course, it will come back. Not sure when."

Every time I thought about it, I would be pulled back into a text I received with words that sunk into me and hurt so deeply or I think about the words spoken around the pictures I had on the sales page.

I would remember the judgement. The friction that Dave and I have been through together. The explosiveness of our fear meeting the eyes of others.

I wouldn't think about the women who had been part of it. The women who, like me, craved the experience of being seen and loved even though it is terrifying.

I will become 43 in a few weeks.

I crave the feeling of the younger me who sat in the tattoo shop feeling the ink flood her skin through a pain that was a little high of sorts. 

I am now in the moments before. When you are picking out the tattoo. Wondering if it will hurt. Wondering if you are making a mistake. Overwhelmed by the feeling of fear turned into safety.

That light breath on my neck of Spirit is the tickle touch from his hands is the morning spent typing these words is the call from Lucas telling me about his headache is the wind blowing outside this home I am falling in love with is the tears that fall again when I remember how much it all matters.

Yes, it is time for Sexy and Sanguine and the circle of women it will draw forth who will heal each other in ways I struggle to put to words.

It is safe for me to talk about this part of my story because we are all new and changed from it and we made it. We have all found a deeper compassion for the thoughts of others, especially when they don't match our own. 

And so.

The moments before we become new. I'll meet you there. Over and over.

And so it is.

{Sexy and Sanguine} Truly know her.


What :: 4 weeks of prompts, challenges and explorations to truly know her

Why :: The way you feel is everything

When ::  September 19th (my 43rd birthday eve)

Cost :: $69

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Your rogue ecstasy, your story of fantasy, your beautiful spaces?

Have you embraced the romance of waking up in your skin?

Can you feel the sensuality inside of grey, the rawness of an orange sky, the taste of a kiss full of red wine?

Do you reflect your light in others and draw their curiosity of pleasure into you?

Have you ripened? Have you ripened?

In a past life/future life have you stood in the blossoming of your sexuality with your senses exploding, in the gift of feeling?

And from that self that was or will be can you feel her guiding you?

Are you sexy and sanguine?

Do you feel belly passion?

Can you close your eyes and paint your beauty by numbers?

Is there a knowing in your toes, your ears, your breasts that each piece of you is loved and sacred and on the journey towards whole?

Is there a candle waiting to be lit that is celebrating you, celebrating her, celebrating this gorgeous life that you have claimed?

And where can you whisper ‘oh yes. oh yes. oh yes’?

Let me take you there. To the yes. To the roughness of your edges and the dance of your awakening.

Do you truly know her?

Sexy :: Stimulating. Erotic. Desirable. Appealing. Hot.

Sanguine :: Bloodred. Temperament of cheerfulness. Confidence.

When I was 22 I was out walking with a friend. I had long blonde hair, worked out often, was a champion dieter, known for really good skin and living in Seattle pursuing acting, 2 years away from marriage.

My friend said to me, “Whenever we are out I just watch men look at you, turn their heads.” 2 days later I went to a Salon and cut off all my hair. Not in the cute or sexy-declaration-of-myself-as-a-woman way, in the I-don’t-want-to-be-seen way. It terrified me. My sexual self, at 22, she scared me. I wanted to hide from her.

While many 22 year olds were out exploring their sexuality and beauty I found myself wanting to stuff it into a little box and find a hiding place for it. Part of my dieting history had so much to do with not wanting to be seen.

I was terrified of myself. Of my skin. Of my beauty. Of my yes.

This may not have been your 22 year old story. It may have happened after your marriage vows. Or when your first baby made her appearance. Maybe it was a story of a younger age or the fear of turning 50.

Or maybe your sexual confidence just slowly faded as the role of young woman turned into wife, mother, worker, nurturer, tender, multi-tasker.

Confidence is alluring, hot, sexy. Each year many of us choose a guiding word or phrase that will be the feeling we want to draw into our experiences, and it is a powerful practice. When I created this course last year my guiding phrase was gracefully sexy. All to lead me further into hot confidence.

Confidence is gracefully sexy.

Managing finances is gracefully sexy.

Feeling delicious in your skin is gracefully sexy.

Creating healthy boundaries is gracefully sexy.


  • boundaries are beautiful.
  • dreams come true from feelings.
  • closets are sanctuaries.
  • the shade of lipstick that lights them up, or the perfect lipgloss to plump.
  • just when breakfast is for dinner and that bubbly can happen anytime, anywhere.
  • the part of their body they always hated can actually guide their pleasure.
  • pleasure.
  • how to hold a gaze.
  • how to receive. Really.
  • how to stand in front of a mirror naked.
  • to kiss and say hello before listing off complaints.
  • beauty is in the details.
  • how to hold space.
  • feeling sexy is inside and out.
  • that iterative living is gorgeous.
  • how to take risks.
  • saying yes is a turn on, after learning to say no.
  • that listening changes everything.
  • how to follow their animal spirit guide or tarot card into sacred space.
  • that hot confidence is a practice.
  • how to walk into a room and really see.
  • how to ask the questions that flip it all around.
  • that hot confidence is fierce magic.
  • that an awakening is non-negotiable.


  • A camera, iphone is great
  • Some apps for your picture editing which I'll share with you at start
  • A journal to poem and vision in, I love Moleskines
  • Some white space, clear the calendar a bit for some sexy and sanguine prompts
  • A hot date, with yourself, with a girlfriend or many, with your lover… in celebration


  • One prompt a day for 28 days alternating between photo prompts and soulwork prompts
  • A FB group where we will gather and share our photos and our soulwork
  • A circle of women who will lift you up
  • 4 weeks of learning to truly know her

I look at who I am now after two years of this sexy and sanguine guiding soulwork and I am blown away. I feel gorgeous in my skin. I take my really bad days and I flip them around by getting infront of my camera. I made some huge life shifting decisions in this last year that took me from an edge of pain and unknowing into joy and movement.

I learned to spend time with my belly, the part of my body that gave me the most angst, torture that I had carried since childhood.

I photographed my belly, spent time adoring it and let myself lead my sexuality with this part of me that for so long had been hidden as though it was what made me unworthy of love. I look at the pictures of me now I can't believe I am the same woman. I feel like I have grown new skin. Every part of my cells seem to have changed into something lighter and filled with compassion and adoration for my own eyes.

And then. There are still the days that challenge me. That take me back to the soul work. Over and over. Back to looking through the lens. Back to the compassion that can get so lost. And when that happens I run this course again. For myself. And you.

My invitation to you is to come along for 4 weeks but to know that this journey will last into your year of 2016. It will be the beginning of a practice into deep sexy and sanguine living. I believe it will change your life.

Looking at yourself through the lens, doing the soulwork prompts, letting other women adore you and see you, you will not leave the same woman. You will leave with your sexy and sanguine in your soul.


Do I have to get naked? Nope. This is not about naked.

Most of the women do in some way start to look at their body, their skin, their nakedness through the camera. Often it is just the curve of a hip or their shoulder and arm in the sunlight. We will share sensual photos. Our sensuality is going to be different for each of us.

Do I need to share all my photos in the group? You can share whatever feels good to you. Or share them with your partner privately. Or keep them all to yourself. This is about you seeing you through your lens. I will say one of the most life changing parts of this course is seeing other women's bodies and the words that flow back to them and lift them. I am  in awe of the beauty that I am met with each day inside of this circle.

I am taking your Magic Making Circle, will I be able to do both? You absolutely can. What I always suggest is that you carve out a little bit of time each day for this soul work, kind of like the ritual of a cup of coffee or morning shower. The MMC course is weekly prompts, giving us time to explore and take big actions and this course is daily. Tiny bites of prompts. I deeply believe that both work together.

We will also be able to use this course as a great reference for the work we are doing in circle.

I know you have more questions. Email me at hello@hannahmarcotti.com and I'll find an answer or two just for you.

On the eve of Spiritstyle


I started feeling my own beauty about 5 years ago. Which means that for 5 years out of my 42 years I have been inside of the beauty of my spirit.

These last 5 years have held heartbreak and joy to the extremes that are rollercoasters in your gut.

And inside of them I found my beauty.

I remember when my partner and I were talking about compliments. I told him that so many women never hear someone tell them they are beautiful.


I have lived in a deficit of those words.

He said, "Women who feel beautiful radiate beauty. So much of it is how they feel."

And feeling beautiful is a life journey for so many of us. It is a mixture of joy and purpose and passion and living inside of honesty and compassion.

It is a place where sensuality meets the seduction of the ordinary, simple moments of gratitude and reverence for just being. 

It is a place where the softest shirt layered over a tank top in the morning can become a devotional practice of spirit.

It is a place where words matter. From other women. From the ones who love us. From strangers.

Words are powerful life shifters.

I love telling a woman she is beautiful. I love helping her see her beauty through my eyes, through the eyes of her camera lens, through the giving and receiving of the gift of words that cannot be underestimated.

You are beautiful. You are so beautiful.

How do we feel our own beauty?


The generosity of others helping us to feel it and see it and know it.

By letting ourselves be seen from the glow of our spirit.

By adorning ourselves in what truly feels like us.

By stripping it all off and finding all of our parts.

Our beauty. By layering time and feelings together. By matching the parts of who we are with how we show up in the world.

5 years ago I started to feel my beauty.

I found my Spiritstyle.

I let myself become over and over, dancing on edges of being seen.

Of learning to show other women their beauty and tell them over and over and over... You are beautiful. You are so beautiful.

And by asking them who they were and how they wanted to feel inside of that.

This will be our journey.

Into change.

Into showing up.

Into infusing spirit as we dress our parts.
On the eve of this discovery into our Spiritstyle gift another with your words. Tell them you love their hair or the way they put together an outfit or how they glow when they smile. Help someone you love or a stranger practice seeing and hearing words of their beauty.

Continue this practice for the 10 days and notice what happens inside of your spirit. Notice what you draw back to you. Feel it.

Because Spiritstyle is all about how you feel from your toes to your heart, from your heart to the top of your head.

It is walking through the world being seen as a translation of what your spirit feels.

If you have someone you want to invite into our days together, they can get the details here.


(photo by the amazing Ruth Clark)

(photo by the amazing Ruth Clark)

I became Mami two years ago when my then 10 year old came home after school using that name as his term of endearment for me.

None of us really questioned it, other than my daughter who has proclaimed she will never call me that.

I love it.

My favorite part of the name is that once the boys started using it, my two bonus kids adopted the name for me as well. I'm a huge part of their mothering world and for us to have a name that ties the kids together as a family is what they were craving deeply.

For me the name has been my becoming. Going from 3 kids to 5. From a single mom terrified that I wouldn't be able to do it, to being a primary care giver to our family of seven.

I did some research on the word and Wikipedia has a long list of different things Mami is associated with, along with the Latin reference to Mother.

Mami Wata was on that list, a pantheon of ancient water spirits or deities. Mother of the water. 

Some stories tell of her abducting people when swimming in the water and how she brings them down to the paradisiacal realm and when they are let go they are found to have a new spiritual understanding reflected in their gaze, often having been said to grow wealthier, more attractive, and more easygoing after the encounter.

During last year's Magic Making Circle my spirit guide came to me, not from a magazine clipping as usual, but in a vision. I saw this water spirit that was fish like, wild hair. A seaweed soaked wild woman spirit.

I've let that image rest inside of me. As my hair is longer than ever before and my spiritual and physical world have drawn forth water as our home I feel like mother of the water.


The women who come to the Lift Ups at the magic lake are quite possibly pulled into a realm that allows us all to leave with a new spiritual understanding, allowing the abundance and beauty and ease. 

Sometimes it feels we are chasing our becoming or scared of her or like we are looking into a steam covered mirror. Sometimes the image and the knowing are so clear we are in love with her and time lends the patience we need we to catch up with her.

Mami has become my home inside my body. A new moment to arrive at the mother I have longed to be and couldn't when my heart was hurting so deeply inside my marriage.

Mami has more patience, more curves, more love, more awe, more rawness, more laughter, more compassion.

I am still growing into her. 

She holds a shit ton.

She gets tired and needs more sleep than I ever did.

She is incredibly sexual.

Her focus is no longer making money to survive as her work is to nurture her family and tribe.

She is a healer, something I never identified with before.

She has the patience and calm to walk her man into his next iteration inside a mountain of old wounds and habits melting away. 

When things are off and I can feel the woman of my past taking over I withdraw. I go into my head. I go to this place that feels like Spirit's living room where I can sit with each part of myself. They are all there. Gathered. Some are fighting to be heard. Others are silently watching, feeling. 

I have rage at some of my parts. They hold that rage. 

I realize how much time I spend in my head, not reaching out, not talking about things.

The last few days I have been desperate for a change inside of something that feels like it is taking me down under water and holding me there. I pray that I can find my way up. That I can become the woman I am so in love with as my future self.  

Because the moments that feel like I can't breathe are no longer something I can let be part of who I am.

That spiritual resurfacing that Mami Wata gives is this abstract thing I know I am being asked to give myself.

And the only thing I know how to do right now is to be more still than I've ever been. And be Mami to the ones who need me. 

I need to discover how she gets dressed now. How she puts on make-up. How she adores her people. How she is choosing to love. How she finds her truth behind the anger, which right now feels like tears dripping down my face.

Mother of the water. Mami. Tears in my coffee. Spirit's living room. A gaze of kindness.

Spiritstyle || A 10 day discovery


When :: August 28th

Cost :: A gift from me to you

i remember the feeling of school starting. i could smell it and there was that little pang in my belly. what i thought most about is how i would show up. who would i be.

every year after the summer break i would iterate into a new version of myself. the planning of the first day of school outfit would consume me. i remember the year of suspenders and a black hat for 10th grade. the following year my all black wardrobe. 

i've always known that how we show up on the outside directly impacts and transforms who we are on the inside. and the inside is our guide for how we layer on our clothes as the way of being in the world. 

being seen. being true. being our most amazing version of ourselves.


this is my spiritstyle. a collection of time and feelings.

the things that if i layer on i become more me.

the colors of cream, mocha, black.

buttery soft. high waist. layered tanks. no bra. simple mala to ground me. fabric draped, falling off a shoulder. hints of sexy and sanguine. 

this is my spiritstyle. the parts of who i am communicated on the outside.

after the dishes are done, rings find my fingers. a final layer.

boots, worn, loved. leg warmers bunched.

a color story that washes over us.

this is my spiritstyle. a woman matching the parts of herself with how she shows up each day.


she said ::

"i feel like i cycle through so many parts of me. the young girl, the earth mama, the wild woman, the falling apart-do-nothing-right-scared one, the angry wife, the warrior princess. they become confused and mixed up and instead of feeling each one i'm trying to ignore each of them."

she said ::

"i feel that way all the time. and i have been thinking about it a lot lately actually... and how trying to allow space for all of it often leaves me feeling exhausted and depleted. we need all these parts of ourselves. they are vital. because how amazing is that we have these selves to call upon to guide us through what is in front of us in any given moment. and even the ones that appear to be wounds or gaping holes are guides too."

this is how my women talk. i collect the words of the women who circle with me. our work together is to honor each part of who we are. some we need to heal. some just need to be seen. some need to be unearthed from the past and integrated into our becomings. 

one of my wishes a few years ago was to be the most amazing mom i could be, meaning less anger and exhaustion and more fun and loving moments. i could see her. she used to be part of me. she is fun and spontaneous and she includes her kids in all the parts of her life.


becoming a mother changed my body. the shape and size were unfamiliar. my breasts went from an ab to a swelling c. nursing was my life for about 7 years, welcoming each baby with a mother who felt more confident each time.

i started wearing tank tops that i could pull down, instead of up, to nurse. skinny spaghetti straps with a shelf bra from target or old navy at first. then i started to like the thicker straps, hold the shelf bra. now my every day (no longer nursing) tank is from h&m and i own every color. i get the long ones that go over my bum so i can wear them over leggings. 

going from college free spirit to mama challenged something in me. i didn't know how to show up. i tried to fit into a button down blouse with mom jeans look for a while. i put on a bra and bought some shirts from that never felt like me.

i spent years uncomfortable and confused. when i went back to school in 2008 i found myself back inside of the free spirit world. from 3 inch heels to dreadlocks, the women were gorgeous. alive. themselves. the freedom of style and expression sucked me back to the girl of 17 who had no doubt who she was.

she didn't look like everyone else. she followed not a single fashion rule. her hair was wild and she knew that she was alive wearing clogs and leg warmers and leggings that hugged her body. she adored showing up in her spiritstyle because it felt like freedom.

this is spiritstyle. the feeling and witness of who we are.

and it changes. all the time. each day we can be new.

allowing this change is the magic.


For 10 days through simple prompts and story we will ::

  • look at the different parts of who we are. name them. make a list.
  • find the feelings inside each of these parts.
  • look back at who we were. remember times that we felt most alive and free.
  • go into our closets. unearth past. clear space for how we want to feel in our now.
  • play with the feelings inside of how we are showing up and being seen.
  • purge what is no longer part of our spiritstyle.
  • find the pieces and layers that communicate.
  • understand dressing and layering a highly sensitive body.
  • discover our color stories.
  • vision into our spiritstyle becomings.
  • allow change to align us with the feeling of freedom and beauty.
  • practice showing up for the different parts of who we are.
  • share photos on our private facebook group
  • be new.


Heart Palpitations and Hair Loss

I was starting to be able to set a clock by it.

Dave would come home for lunch. We would eat something, it was often my first meal of the day other than my coffee and handful of cashews.

(Because rules, I tried not to eat my first meal until after noon.)

We might close our eyes for a bit and then he would head back to work.

We were at the Urban Farmhouse then.

I can't remember when it started. It felt a lot like a panic attack with no panic attached initially.

I kept saying, "My heart keeps going out of rhythm."

I had no other words to describe it.

Sometimes it would last for hours. A panic attack would often come.

The most common times for it were 2:10pm, when I was getting ready to get in the van for the 2 hour commute picking up all the kids.

The other one was in the middle of the night or whenever I would first wake up to pee or from a dream.

I would go to the bathroom just steps away and my heart would be beating so fast I didn't know what I should do. Going back to sleep would take hours.

I was ready to go to the emergency room some nights, but I would just sit and wait it out.

Sometimes I would get home from picking the kids up and immediately pour a drink to try to settle my heart back down.

The last three years through separation and divorce have meant that I was for the first time a single mom, fully supporting myself and my kids financially, taking on things I never had to before (car registration and insurance and health insurance and bills and everything) sleeping alone at night for the first time since I was 19, running my own business and falling in love and building a life with someone in one of the hardest divorces I have witnessed. And five kids.

You just do it. You don't truly think much about it when you are in it. 

I didn't realize the fight or flight I was in until we moved in May and my life completely changed.

It wasn't just me anymore. Someone was taking care of me.

For the first time in 3 years, I was safe.

And safe inside of love.

I had no idea how much fear I was constantly sitting inside of. 

My heart wasn't racing anymore. I could pick up the kids without the panic.

Dave was so filled with joy with our house and our family being together and that he was taking care of me.

I can't explain what this man loving me feels like. But I can tell you that once we crossed through the incredible hell we had spent two years in and we were finally safe to become a family together, we are not the same.

We are still pinching ourselves that we made it. Because every single obstacle was there. The fear and judgments and secrets and sabotaging all around us would have made for a good reality tv series.

And we made it.

I told her about my heart and how I had been convinced I had a heart condition and that the Ambulance would come for me.

She asked me about it. She mentioned the weight gain that I have had over the last year that I can't figure out or budge.

She told me about her diagnosis of adrenal fatigue.

Her heart. The tests that have been run on her heart coming up with nothing.

The way she would get up to pee at night and then find her heart racing out of her chest.

She told me about her weight gain.

And then I read everything I could get my hands on about adrenal fatigue. We had learned about it in school, years ago, but I wanted stories.

I found this. I handed it to Dave to read. He asked if I had written it...

"I was packing my kids up for a trip to the park last month when I realized…something was wrong.

Work was finished for the day. The house was clean. My head felt clear, and the park sounded fun. But my heart was racing, and I felt riddled with anxiety. Full blown panic attack feeling had set in.

This had been happening more and more. This feeling that I was barely coping. Or, rather. The feeling that I wasn’t coping at all.

It scared me. As a single mom of four, working full time, shouldering the weight of finances and childcare, building a new love, maintaining a business, meeting deadlines, managing friends, trying to make yoga happen– life is busy. But, I’ve always been able to meet busy.

Yet the past six months, a near-constant anxiety has been building.

My hair has been falling out.

My belly has gotten soft.

My head feels spaced out constantly. Airheaded. Zoney.

My body doesn’t ever want to stop. Always itching to go. Even at bedtime.

Panic moments come. A lot. Randomly. Suddenly." - Brooke Lark (Cheeky Kitchen)

I have lost half my hair. The vertigo started last summer and has caused my balance to be challenged daily. I've put on 20 pounds with nothing really changing. I'm exhausted at the times when I used to have the most energy. And vice versa. I've been losing words, saying the wrong word even though I can feel it is wrong but it comes out anyway and struggling to sit down and write without falling asleep. My bleed cycle has been so wacky. And the heart. The heart was the worst of it all.

I also read that women who stay on a paleo diet for a long time are more susceptible to adrenal disfunction as well. 

My internet reading wasn't to self diagnose but it was fascinating that it all matched up. The threads were finally making sense.

Now I am eating breakfast with him each morning. And lunch. And dinner at a reasonable hour (because I love to eat dinner crazy late after the kids go to bed).

I am honoring my soft(er) belly and not feeling as concerned about hiding it. Love it up. Love it up.

There are boxes of vitamins and minerals and oils and tonics and tinctures and teas on their way.

Walking. Swimming. Resting. Napping. 

Dave and I have developed a beautiful way of communicating, with only a few little blips, it has felt like pure joy together.

We have been working on parenting the kids with some new patterns and support and patience and calm. They are responding in ways that blow our minds. This morning, after a potential melt down with our little one that we allowed to progress in his own timing, with his needs around moving through it and natural consequences as our guide, I looked at Dave and said, "Well, I am feeling like an awesome parent right now."

I am feeling ready to trust in friendship again, after some tough growing pains inside of that world of woman connections. Healing some little girl stuck fears and hurts. I believe that one might be the most healing of all. To open my arms and heart again.

Chloe (my 14 year old) and I just went to the store and got two new little fish. Plants are all around the house and she and I are learning to propagate succulents cause we lovelovelove them.

The lake house where we live in the summer and the kids go to camp is ordered, un-cluttered and so much of the old energy has been cleared. Don't underestimate the way 'stuff' holds the past hurts and traumas. Clear it. Get rid of it. Purge it. The house looks gorgeous and we are learning to relax inside of it. (Not our skill set, either of us.)

Instead of following the kids around and literally picking up every shoe, sock, cup, plate, tissue, toy, bathing suit, towel, crumb, book, iPod and more shoes, I am working to teach them to notice and take ownership of helping us create calm and peace in our house. This one is hard for me.

And I'm in love and I can feel it. In every cell. The way he loves me. From asking him to tell me he loves me over and over to the point of ridiculousness to being able to just wake up, reach over for his arm to anchor my transition from sleep, and feel it.

Feel his love.

Feel my love.

Feel safe.

I don't ever want to stop writing about this love story. 

The hair, the heart, the dizziness, the body, the loss.

Incredible metaphors and teachers during the burning down phase of our life. 

And now to write from the ashes, watching it all grow.

With a heart that trusts it is safe. A body in the transition of healing. Words winding back in.


Truth baby.

Truth :: Some of my favorite words to hear are, "You've lost weight."

Truth :: I used to thrive on seeing how much I could control my weight through practicing lack.

Truth :: My weight has consumed more time in my thoughts than I can quantify.

Truth :: Making rules around food for me has been my constant, that thing I can count on to keep the rhythm of my day.

Truth :: Every cleanse I would run or go on was always about losing just a little bit more.

Truth :: I find myself at my highest weight outside of pregnancy.

Truth :: Rules no loner apply but I am constantly catching myself saying things like "I'm paleo."

Truth :: I feel sexy, not so much from a physical sense, but from this inner confidence that has come after years of body shame, and from having a partner that desires me and devours me.

Truth :: When the weight first started showing I had a really hard time being out in public, even going to the grocery store was hard for me, it was like this crazy social anxiety I hadn't felt in years.

Truth :: After letting the rules go I can often feel untethered, like what do I have to hold onto?

Truth :: At 42, I wish that this one thing that consumes my thoughts could start to be replaced by something else.

Truth :: I would like to tell you that I'm over it, that I am now an intuitive eater who is so in love with herself that there is a calm and peace that you can have too if you just do A, B, C...

Truth :: Women completely captivate me, the beauty, the sensuality, the fears, the way each body is different, the curves, the colors, the way we choose to dress, the way we love, the softness, the way we change.

Truth :: I need to be here, in this place with my body, as I have grown into my 40's and a true sense that my hormones and my shape is changing.

Truth :: As I am starting to move my body more, after a long break of being still, I'm in awe at how quickly we can lose our strength which is so connected to a strength in our spirit; sweating and laughter are essential.

Truth :: It sucks to not fit into your old clothes but it feels really delicious to let yourself buy a few new things that fit you NOW.

Truth :: Having someone say you are sexy, gorgeous, beautiful, amazing and loved cannot be underestimated in how it changes our own thought patterns.

Truth :: There is a freedom in not wanting to be who I was at 26 or 39 and just freaking allow myself to love up this year of 42.

Truth :: When I started my journey into sexy and sanguine living I was exploring my sexual self in new ways, taking chances, opening to new experiences, learning to flirt again, looking myself in the eyes, opening to the fact that I am a highly sexual/sensual/sensitive person.

Truth :: No matter how hard it feels some days, I still stand in the mirror naked every day and find my way to adoration of my physical self.

Truth :: When I fall back into the obsessing about how I look I feel like I've somehow failed on this journey and as soon as I feel failure I know that it means I am doing the work and will never stop wanting to iterate into my next becoming. 

Truth :: I adore the sexual self that inhabits this body, I adore my spiritstyle, I adore my magic, I adore my exploration into my edges.

Truth :: Writing about sexuality and teaching others how to feel into their bodies as I am learning to heal my past body stories is an unbelievable honor. (Yes, Sexy and Sanguine is coming back!)

Truth :: I'm going to go have a truth vulnerability hangover now, make some lunch and curl up and listen to the rain fall. 

Return to the lake.

Rain every day and temperatures that have me wishing I had brought my sweaters. (Always bring sweaters lake side, always.)

A bathing suit that hangs on a hook, waiting for the heat of summer to remember to visit us.

A lake deepening from rain water, a list of projects that occupies our thoughts.

A few years ago I sat on a dock on a lake in Maine and I said, "I'm going to manifest a lake house." 

I was renting this house and cabins on the lake for my retreats and I knew that I needed to have a space that was mine. I knew it would be on a lake. I started scheming a thousand different ideas for how it might come to be. 

On that lake in Maine I first discovered loons. The crazy coyote bird that scared me as I heard their song in the dark of the woods.

Months later I sat on my light brown couch in the Loft next to a man who was showing me Lake Monomonac and telling me about this house. One he had been dreaming of since he was 8 years old and the story of how he was able to buy it a few years ago.

I sit typing this to you on the light brown couch that sits at the magic lake house. The house that is my heart home.


We packed up all the kids and this is where we'll spend the summer, they go to camp during the day, swim in the lake in the afternoon.

In July I'll welcome 4 women into the house for our first Lift Up of the season. I'm dreaming of how I could have a big retreat here soon. I can feel the pull again. It is strong. But different. New. It is something that hasn't yet been conceived but I can feel it wanting to come forth.

So. I sit. And listen. I pray over the water as the rain drops hit me this morning on the deck. 

Yesterday was wild and I felt on the verge of tears the whole day.

Chloe and I getting lost and not finding the antique store and getting her an omelette instead.

Barbecue sauce all over the rug and ceiling and walls.

Picking up a million sticks from the grounds.

Telling us they need Star Wars costumes for the morning with no warning to get supplies.

Two of us working from home and realizing that this summer will not hold my usual alone time and space.

Scrubbing two bathrooms on my knees.

Filling the truck with garbage, recycling and donation.

Watching the couple down the way walk each morning, he holds her arm, they both wear hats, and I can feel their connection.

Feeding the fish and feeling a bit off from one another.

Finding our way back, putting them to bed, setting the coffee pot, making tea.

Feeling off again. How shitty that feels and makes every breath feel.


My jaw locked so tight as I think about the amount of work we have to do and the transitions that are beginning again.

Post bleed. Not sure what it is, but I feel it.

This morning we walked together. I was so tender from feeling off and my lungs were fighting as we went up the long hills. We were inspired by their walking, the two of them, each morning.


We had only been together for a couple of weeks when he asked if I would come with him for a night to the lake house. It was April, cold. He told me there would be no running water and our heat would be a wood stove. We would arrive in the dark and leave early in the morning as he had a class to get to. 

I didn't see the lake until the morning. I remember standing naked in front of the window and feeling my heart  attaching to the water. 

Our paths criss cross in the past, we both spoke the words to leave our marriages the same month, almost the same day, before we knew the other was out there. Before we believed the other was out there.

The day he looked at the lake house he saw a loon on the water. The real estate agent said that was rare, they almost never saw them. Now the loon is our daily song. She lets us bring our boat right up to her side. 

He told me the loon was the sign that I was coming.


This morning turned into omelettes and more rain.

Coffee on the couch in awe of the 4 of them getting themselves ready for camp with only a few cues from us.

Plans to try to find the antique store again.

After camp we'll get in the truck and drive them back to their other homes. Transitions in full glory.


"Don't get too excited about it. It is just a small house on a lake, but I love it. I really want you to spend time there."

"I'm going to manifest a lake house."


And so it is.

Frustration inside of inspiration.

I wake up to pee around 5:30am. The wake up leaves me restless and I feel annoying to my love who has no trouble sleeping after his pee wake up.

I grab my phone and do the Instagram check in. I fell in love with Instagram a few years ago because stories and photos capture my heart.

So, I'm scrolling through and I can feel myself start to get agitated. 

I hear all the time how so many people have a reaction to their social media feeds because of all the negativity.

It seems I might be having the opposite problem. There is so much positivity in my feed. Inspirational memes. Women who do similar work who are sharing quotes or programs or advice. Normally doesn't phase me.

This particular morning I couldn't find many stories. You know the ones that remind you you aren't alone. The ones that make you see your life in a new way. The stories that are so real and raw and alive.

I was getting twitchy and it felt like a thousand things were wrong with me and that I wasn't doing anything right.

This reaction to the inspiration really struck me. What was that about? Why was it rising up so fiercely? 

I think it is because I don't want to be fixed. I don't believe I'm broken. But sometimes we can very subtly convince ourselves (even from positive shit) that we just aren't quite right. A little this or that would change everything.

I fall into it. You fall into it.

A few minutes later that stories start to show up. Or maybe I just manifested them into the feed so I didn't get lost in the inspiration. (I know, that sounds stupid, but there I was.)

And it reminds me over and over again that this is how I teach. This is how I learn. This is how I grow. This is where I find my shadow and my light.

Our stories. Dave calls them #thestoriesofourlives each time I post something about our family.

My take away. I want to remember to share more, not for social media, but for my own need for sharing. I want to get lost in your tales and the pictures when you look into your own eyes. 

I will never get tired of seeing your cup of coffee in your hand each morning or the selfie you take to remember that you are so beautiful and valued.

There is something so at peace inside of me right now and I honestly don't know what the hell to do with it. I've spent the last year letting all the voices around me fade so I can connect to the spirit of Hannah.

I like her. I'm in love with my man. I'm head over heels for my family. The magic making circle is the most kick ass version of whoa and wow. I'm about to welcome women to #themagiclakehouse so we can lift each other up. 

My 14 year old daughter spent her entire day helping me with tasks for the 50th anniversary party I am hosting for Dave's parents. Her whole day. She even learned how to make the clam chowder so I could do other things.

Right now Dave and the kids and his brother are downstairs letting me have space to work and write and moving boxes and cleaning up because I will probably be up till 2am with my list of things to do.

And the rain. Did I mention that the forecast is for rain at the exact time of the outdoor formal dinner party I am throwing? 

I really hope that that is not a story I am sharing with you tomorrow.

The tables will be set with the kantha quilts I have been saving. Mixed matched plates and silverware wrapped in cloth napkins with a glittery napkin ring will be at each place. Every water glass that has been collected from years past will sit by a plate. 

The flower decorations and the bar and the dessert tables and the photo booths all tell a story of how important details are.

I'm off now to make mashed potatoes for 40 people, set up a kid station outside, prep the photo booth, practice the table arranging even though they say rain, order pizza for dinner, get rooms ready for out of town guests, plant geraniums and a couple or a couple or a couple more things.

I love it. I'm in love with it.

I'll post my clam chowder (gluten free) recipe after the party because it is so crazy good we are having a hard time not eating it before the party!

Sending love and hopefully a story or two,

When you feel like an asshole.

We have a huge yard now.

I am from the city where we dig up the patch of grass between the sidewalk and the street just to have a garden. Seattle is famous for its gardens growing everything from artichokes to edible flowers in such spots.

And now I feel somewhat lost in all this space. I know how to garden in small spaces, how to tuck lavender along the edges of a garden box and how a butterfly bush will in a few years take up more real estate than you imagined.

I went out to attempt my first moments in the earth here. I had some cat mint and lavender, simple.

My new gray felt hat was on and the grass was wet from the rain the night before. I knelt down on my kneeling pad and started to dig. I could smell the dirt, the time that only earth can hold in scent.

I looked down and my shirt was covered in ticks. The big ones, the lentil ticks.

About 7 ticks in a clump.

I jumped up and ran inside pulling them off and drowning them in the toilet. Then I saw them crawling up my legs towards the others. At least 4 more. 

I was kind of freaking out. I know we have ticks here. I've pulled off three on the boys so far.

But this was like a hostile take over of my body. I was in the grass for all of 3 minutes before this happened.

As a kid I would have nightmares about these little creatures with crazy legs.

I got in the shower and prayed that I had found them all.

I spent the rest of the day itching every time my skin felt the slightest sensation.


I posted something about getting the yard sprayed for ticks and other bugs on Instagram. It never occurred to me that it would provoke any feelings from others. I just was telling part of my story, which is how I stay connected with my tribe, especially in times when I am inside of a long program and feeling a bit hibernated with them.

There were some automatic feelings that I was doing something wrong. There was also some really good discussion around what people use themselves to spray or put on their kids.

The thing was, no one asked what we were spraying with. Maybe the majority assumed chemicals, I have no idea. But regardless, it was a rather crazy opening of thoughts from others.

I love engaging in social media conversations that teach me and teach others.

I will admit, I don't like to be told what to do or not do or feel judged.

Both were swirling.

I had this moment of clarity of how easy it is to shame or assume or judge based on a few words and a photo. Without asking. Without letting the other person have their space, even if it is opposite of what we believe.

This is why I never talk politics.

This is why I don't engage in debates around things that are crucially important to both sides of an argument. (I used to, I was a wildly opinionated teenager.)

This is why when our 5 children who all have different faiths and religious or non-religious beliefs talk about God I remind them God can be for one and not for another but that we are all born to love and to allow others to have their own mind. And then I tell them that I have believed everything and nothing and the woman I am today is built upon that journey.


But wait, the story gets better. 

I have this feeling after feeling kind of lectured and accused of doing something I wasn't even doing, this feeling that the women I work with have expressed.

This fear of social media. Of being judged. Of being shamed. Of the small itsy-bitsy things they share being taken as offensive to others and then feeling like crap about that.

I understood the vulnerability that these women feel when they try to share more of their life (as I ask them to) on social media so that they can build trust and love with their tribe.

I have worked for 9 years to create safe boundaries around social media and I take for granted the beautiful pink bubble of safety that surrounds my space and my sharing.

Being struck by this vulnerability and seeing how easily something we say can make someone have such strong feelings without them asking for any clarification, I wrote another post.

About just that.


I am a pleaser, or reformed pleaser, but honestly, I really do want the people in my life to feel happy, good, amazing.

It would have been easiest for me to let it pass, to not care about it.

Confrontation makes me weak in the knees, and not in that I've got a crush way.

I decided to talk about how some of the responses made me feel.

How easy it can be to make these assumptions about someone or push our beliefs on someone with so little information.

And then...


People who had simply been interested in what I was doing, and actively engaged in a beautiful conversation around treating and dealing with ticks thought that I was upset with them. 

Assumed that they had done something wrong.

Oh, my gorgeous Highly Sensitive Tribe. I could not love you more.

More assumptions were being made. On yet another post.

My heart started beating fast. I had a panic attack.

I felt like an asshole.

I used to blog 3 times a week and write a newsletter. My sharing was deep and wide and now it is smaller in the public eye but crazy wide open in my courses.

There is so much vulnerability and truth telling through my work that I forget I am not telling it all to the world.

I forget that saying a few sentences about something is not enough.

And yet, isn't that enough? Isn't that OK?

Isn't it OK if you don't agree with me?

Because I may not agree with you but I can still love you and honor you.

I can still blast you with silent love even while holding true to what I believe.

I'm sorry if I made anyone feel bad with my post. That was so not the intention.

My intention was to remind us all that we don't know the full story, ever. These sharings are a glimpse into someone's inner world.

And I will still adore you even if you spray your lawn with chemicals so that you have no ticks (which I don't choose by the way, we are using organic essential oils, a little detail that I was happy to share if asked). 

I choose to teach through my learning and through what sharing feels good.

This taught me so much about assumptions and how quick we are to push our opinions on someone else. To assume that we are right, that everyone else is wrong.

Doesn't this past Presidential election alone highlight how terrifying it is to know that not everyone agrees with us? And fear is powerful. 

My sweet friend illuminated this all for me when she said, "a mama's gotta do. and whether its w chemicals or ess oils or straight vodka.... we should just offer one another the space and freedom to do as she damn pleases.. amen, amen."

Thank you sweet friend. Being Mama is an incredibly powerful and exhausting and loving job, a little space to be who we are inside of it feels like freedom.

We can fight for the earth, against chemicals or whatever else it is we believe in by using love and compassion as our guiding mantras. 


I'm off to have a Bloody Mary and think about how we can all find more love, compassion and empathy. It starts right here. 


I am scrolling through the group, reading introductions. Some women are newer faces, others have spent years circling together.

As is typical, my eyes start watering. They are sharing the words that reveal why they are choosing this for themselves. They are sharing the magic that has infused into their lives from the past circles.

They are sharing why they chose to trust this time with me, with each other.

One woman, after years of this work, is now stepping into the iteration of her life that she has been dreaming and working towards for the last few years. Her superpowers are blazing. She is doing it. 

Things burn down when a dream is ready to fully manifest. It can be painful. We are forced to release. Often things look different than what we thought.

There is this crazy swirling of the dream, the action, the faith and the release.

A joy based life is not without pain or fear. A joy based life uses the pain and fear as motivation to find deeper joy. And then deeper joy again.

The women started to introduce themselves with 5 things they felt were important to share, in intimacy and vulnerability. I love the number 5. I have 5 kids. We dream in 5 in the circle.

And here they are, sharing inside of 5.

On Instagram someone quotes me saying, leave some spaces for the woman you are becoming.

I think about the list of the 5 things that are in our past, our now.

Then my mind sees a blank list. With numbers 1-5.

The list that comes after the 6 months of work.

The list we can't possibly see what will be written on it, or who we will be.

It is the spaces we must leave blank for the woman we are becoming.

We will be creating vision journals in our 6 months together. I imagine the last page holding this blank list, this list of our becoming. 

The holding of space.

6 months ago I was dreaming of a home together with my love and our kids. In two days we move into that home.

In two days I will fill in a blank space on my list of my becoming. I'm not sure what it will say or who I will be.

As I write the words and the space fills with the one I am now a brand new blank space opens, on another list, in another journal, as I begin my becoming again.


My favorite journals are Moleskins XL Cahier, but anything works.

Each page is a blank space of possibility. For the work. For the visioning. For the dreams. For the action.

And the last page holds our becoming. The one we will be. Or maybe it is a sticky note numbered 1-5 or a beautifully decorated list on the fridge, every day reminding you of the space to be.

Today see that list. Or start that list somewhere.

Close your eyes and imagine all that space that is yours.

Close your eyes and feel the iterations of the woman becoming.

This is her love note.

Who creates the bad stuff?

A question came to me from a beautiful woman-mama-light up the world kind of woman.

She is triggered by manifesting because if the thought is that we are creating our reality, then this assumes that everything bad or good is being manifested by us all the time too.

I really had to sit with this. Because yes, if you are fully sinking into the belief that our thoughts are in constant co-creation with the Universe, then how can we not feel responsible for the shit that comes our way.

And why does it seem so easy to pull in the bad, rather than call in the income we want or the pregnancy or the man of our dreams?

I used to joke that I was the most brilliant manifestor of drama and negativity.

Teaching and being a student of magic, teaching and being a student of thoughts and feelings, has given me access to more hours of thinking about manifesting than I could log.

Here is what I believe, and what I teach.

Everything that comes to us is our opportunity, a possibility.

I don't look at things as bad or good. Think about money. It is energy. And that energy can be felt by one person as amazing and abundant and felt by another as scary and as lack.

One person may be healing a money story that started with their parents. And their work is all around understanding what part of their belief inside of money was planted in them at a young age. Their 'lack' is an opportunity, a possibility. 

I was that person. It was one of the hardest times of my life. I learned forgiveness. I learned how to start a business. I learned how to stop spending without thinking. 

I also had some knees to the floor sobbing conversations with God. I had less than $20 in the bank and 3 kids. 

Was I drawing in poverty for myself and my kids because of my thoughts?


What I was calling in were the things I needed to heal before I could ever get right with money. 

I was desiring freedom. I was desiring the deep knowing that I could follow that call toward freedom for myself and my kids.

The way those things showed up for me weren't winning the lottery or getting some inheritance.

It was my dog breaking my computer, my then husband breaking my heart, my bank account drained, my knees falling to the floor in surrender.

And then I started the healing, the forgiveness.

It was all part of my journey to freedom.


Dave, my lover, travels a lot. Like a crazy lot on airplanes.

Each time he goes I can feel it in my body that he is getting further and further away from me.

I worry about something happening to the plane. Then I freak out that thinking about that could actually make something happen to the plane. Because I have anxiety.

When those fears come up and I start to loop into the panic, that is where my opportunity, my possibility rises.

It is a chance for me to sit with deep anxiety and sit still with my heart.

Those moments are when I realize how incredibly blessed I am to have fallen in love with this man. Those fears are my love addiction which still likes to show up and challenge me to move through them. 

Am I somehow sending out a message to the Universe to make something happen to his plane?

No, no, no, no, no, no.

I am opening up opportunity, a possibility for a new way to feel. To show myself I can move through the anxiety, better than the last time.

When 'bad' shit happens, it sucks. It breaks our hearts. It is the knees to the floor surrendering to God that changes us. That leads us to where we are going.

When you are raising kids you don't tell them they are bad or good. You use each moment as an opportunity for them to understand their actions and the consequences and help them navigate their feelings around it.

You are helping them to see the possibilities of who they can become. And who they were. And are now.

I don't want to talk to Dave about what will happen to my life if something 'bad' ever happened to him because that scares the shit out of me to pull into my thoughts. I know people who don't get life insurance because they are afraid it will mean something will happen to them.

We can make ourselves crazy trying to avoid certain 'bad' thoughts.

Then we get stuck in a life without dreaming because we are so focused on all the negative things we don't want.


I want you to dream. I want you to heal. I want you to forgive. I want you to desire. I want you to surrender. I want you to exhale so deeply that you are a body filled with possibility when the inhale comes.

Magic Making is all of that. It will change your life. It will challenge you, maybe even trigger you a bit. It will ask you for honesty, and time.

It is hard to put into words what the circle is. Because truly it is opportunity. It is possibility. 

It is you. It is the women who are choosing to show up, to say yes.

If we erase bad and good from our experience and simply let this life be a journey into ourselves, it starts to feel like magic.

And that is what we will make. Together.

Sinking back in.


She stood next to me while I put on my make-up. It was Easter Eve and the presence of God/Source Energy, the God in everything, was swirling around us.

"How do our prayers go where they need to and get answered? How is that possible?"

I could feel my body light up. These questions are pure delight.

She then turns around and runs out of the room, "Never mind that is a stupid question."

I walked out to the living room. I told her that this was not a stupid question. That adults think about this, write books about this, are in constant wonderment and awe of prayer.

I spoke a few words about energy and allowing. She was embarrassed by her own wonder and wasn't ready for a big discussion. As though she should just automatically understand prayer, while all the adults around her are searching for their own understanding.

Why do we pray?


Last night I fell apart. I contracted. I went deep inside of pain and fear.

I felt like a fraud. Like I was letting everyone down. I was triggered out of my sense of calm and a recently found deeper empathy for myself into the belief that I was going to lose everything. Because of criticism. Because of the last year of chaos and unknowing. Because my unworthiness was being splayed out for me to see.

My love and I started fighting. I pushed. And pushed. My tears felt like they were taking over my body. I readied myself for him to leave. To prove to me that I was losing everything, including his love. I was embarrassed and vulnerable and scared.

I was sobbing with my head down in my arms. I heard him grab his keys and walk out the door.

See, I am losing everything. I contracted deeper into the pain. I would just feel it all tonight. I've been here before. It has all fallen apart before.

Why do we push away what we love and want and need the most?

A few minutes later he walked back in, grabbed a beer and sat down next to me.

"Are you done pushing me away yet?"


When we were talking about money stories in my business circle I asked the women what motivated them? Money is never the actual motivation, it is simply the currency we use to manifest the desire.

My past motivations have been freedom and adoration. Those drove me to create, to write, to connect, to find answers, to manifest this business that feels larger than what I can understand yet.

Both motivations were found from a flip of what I lacked into what I knew was already in my future. The lack, the falling apart, the falling to my knees on the kitchen floor in surrender, in sending out the prayer so I could find acceptance for what was to become new.

To take the pain and fear that was and allow it to tell the new story. One that does exist in vibration and energy and the God in everything. One that is already held in a truth that comes from its telling.

After feeling the truth of the story that you no longer wish to hold true. After the prayer. After the acceptance. After the push. After the place the story started and into the one you now write on the blank page, on the mantra stone, in bullet points or list form.

Of freedom. 
Of adoration.

And now of safety inside of love.

The new motivation born into a future self. The motivation that will bring me to her. That already is. The woman whose currency is now safety inside of love. Who believes she can have abundance and love at the same time. Who knows that her superpower is loving. And who receives all the beauty that she puts forth.

The story becomes a shift in vibration, like a magnet attaching me to her and I feel my cells literally change as I close my eyes and integrate her into my being.

Safety inside of love.




Each year when a new circle begins, I begin again.

I teach to learn, to become a better teacher, to understand and explore what I most desire. This circle gives me a chance each year to understand the magic of the Universe on that next level vibration. 

I am integrating her. The one that came before, that is aching for new discovery.

The integration piece is one I prefer to skip. 

So here I am. Sinking back in. 

The circle opens.

You know the best time to launch a new circle?

When all 5 kids are on school vacation, in the midst of packing your house to move, inside of boundary work with behaviors that are causing you great anxiety and then they start puking all night with fevers.

There is never going to be a right time for most anything. It will never be convenient. It will never be perfect. If you are like me, you'll probably already be tired tomorrow when you wake up today.

And you do it anyway. Or because.

Because change isn't something you schedule into your life in perfect little boxes on a calendar with washi tape labeling each move.

Choosing it. 
Doing it.
Claiming it.

The magic. You. Your yes. To you. To this life that holds so much possibility.

Blessing who you are now while you become the one that is starting to emerge.

Knowing the kids won't be sick forever and the boxes will be packed and that choosing you is the most important choice because your vibration changes those that you love and nurture.

This is what I repeat to myself. This is what the ones who love me tell me.

This is what I want to tell you.

There is never a right time. 

So choose now.

Choose you.

Grab your magic, feel the possibility.

I'll see you in the circle.



Guiding Home.

everything will change

do you believe in luck

how much is spirit
how much is you
and are they woven

everything my love will change

you deserve this
you were born for this
everything leading up to now was drawing it towards you

and if you believe in luck how do you define it

if you are lucky what path have you dusted off

how much is chance

how much is every moment you stung sung drank pleaded grasped prayed dreamt let float away

leading up to this gift
this gift that you are drawing forth


everything baby will change
everything my sweet will change
and i will hold space for you
protect you
guide you

and the ground will expand
and we will breathe

the exhale the inhale the blessings

everything sweet one

will change