I used to want to be famous.


A really good day for me is when I get through without telling myself that something is wrong with me. 

In my business group I like to ask each person to define their definition of success. The old definition of more money, more status, more notoriety, more power, more more is making way for a softer, less intense, less 'more' based success.

A personal success for me is being kind to my skin, my belly, my people, my heart. It is only recently I have understood how difficult kindness is as a practice. And I desire it like crazy.

I used to want to be famous, now I want to lay my head on a pillow at night feeling loved and seen and challenged and filled with a prayer for tomorrow.


I went to the thrift store. I brought myself over to the rack of dresses. The first thing I needed to move through was the size. The last time I bought a dress I was a good two sizes smaller. 

This is ok I told myself. Be where you are now.

I spent about 40 minutes going through long racks of dresses ranging from crazy orange and brown retro lace to bright flowers in styles I couldn't try to describe.

I had given myself a goal, sexy beach nights. 

I'll be accompanying Dave on his business trip to Mexico and I knew that last year I ended up feeling like I wanted to hide myself amidst all the string bikinis drinking blended drinks like their sugar and alcohol calories converted to magic. 

This year I was not playing that game. What I know, what I freaking teach about confidence, is that it has nothing to do with a string bikini and tight abs.

I plan to radiate.

Which means I have to start putting the pieces into place now.

I pulled about 14 dresses into my cart. 

My color story clear. Black. Gray. White. Mocha. I challenged myself to find patterns and there were so many patterns, this is why we love thrifting, the unexpected, the surprises. 

In the dressing room I did a fast and furious round of trying things on over my leggings and tank top. The rooms are so tiny I kept crashing into the sides and dropping hangers and then I started to sweat in my big winter boots and the creeping in feeling of claustrophobia.

The lighting however is so good it may have led to some false purchases. I kind of love that though, because I can think of people who I can give them to for the next round of their fabric lives. (Which then led to the idea of hosting a giveaway for a box of thrifted items that I send out based on a few questions about style and color and size and lifestyle.) 

I ended up with about 7 dresses knowing that I would need to wear each one for at least a day to see if it felt right, to see if I felt right inside of it. Seams. Pulling. Pinching. Rising up. Falling down. Softness. Does it need a bra. Can you see the panty line cause I gotta wear panties.

All that highly sensitive stuff that makes practicing clothing an essential skill.


I am studying, watching, practicing, challenging.

I am deep inside of creation.

A newness about to be born.

I crave comfort inside this time and what I am creating is the opposite.

I put on the tight dress.

I practice inside the discomfort. All day. In my home. On the school yard. On Instagram.

I am in a becoming of the she who will walk the beaches in Mexico and radiate her joy and adoration of who she has iterated into, which may only find her the moment her feet touch the white sand.

The she who has an idea that is only sticky notes and trust. 

That all of it was always leading here.


One dress I got actually scares me. And makes me laugh. I haven't practiced it yet. It has one sleeve and is tight.

It may be the one that the lighting in the store conned me into purchasing.

At $4.00 my edges were a tad more daring.

Even if this one doesn't get sorted out on my body there is something about having pulled it off the rack and into that dressing room that makes me giggle and remember how I want to feel and how I am willing to practice getting there.

Sexy beach nights. The feeling of the best dressing room lighting shining from inside of you. Your scent of confidence lingering and touching others you pass.


The discomfort of the practice of radiating joy means she (we) will be 'more.' 

A more that is soft, kind, intensely loving. 

A more that will let others see her (us) because she has studied and taught alongside those who desire the same.

She (we) becomes brave because she is not alone in the challenge of pushing herself to actively practice the things that would be so much easier not to.

A more that knows it isn't about the dresses (or the ____) and is so about those dresses.


If I think about the bikini's sipping mudslides my body will have an energetic shift into chaos and chaos will be how I make my choices. How I will feel.

I send love to the magical sugar transforming goddesses of the poolside bars and pour some green powdery kombucha while thinking about which dress will be next.

43 year old magic potions being bottled over here. One unorganized discomfort of change at a time.