Trusting Yourself First

I *love* cult documentaries. They’re so fascinating + relevant + relatable + spooky around human nature -- how we form communal bonds, what we’re willing to tolerate (+ in what circumstances), what we choose to see or ignore, how we justify behavior (others + our own), and why manipulation + gaslighting are so effective.

I think we can all relate to staying in situations longer than was good or right for us, trusting someone who didn’t earn it, or experiencing manipulation that led us off track. I know I can.

I especially felt this watching the Vow on HBO, a docu-series about NXIVM -- a personal development cult.

It was chilling, horrifying...and familiar.

I’ve never been sucked into a cult, but I’ve definitely touched the edges of this type of manipulation + abuse of power in my own dealings with the self-help/personal development/psycho-spiritual world. Things like...

...Eroding self-trust (to create an opening for abusers or cult leaders to claim they have secret knowledge or all the answers).

...Encouraging people to deny reality + blame themselves for their own suffering (gaslighting).

...Using manipulation as a marketing tool (because people need the help, so it’s for the greater good).

...Peddling emotionally abusive messages like: Your suffering is happening because you’re not believing the right thoughts (or because you’re not willing to truly commit by joining my cult, giving me money, etc.)

These days, I’m a skeptic, ready to leave any situation or abandon any teacher the moment things start to get weird or feel off.

And I keep coming back to this:

Just because someone is smart, a good teacher, shares useful tools or practices, does positive things in the world, or changes your life *doesn’t automatically or necessarily mean they are a good person who can be trusted*.

And it certainly doesn’t mean they know more about what’s right for you than you do.

What the World Demands

I heard this quote earlier this week, and I’ve been sitting with these words from Octavia Butler:

“There’s no end to what a living world will demand of you.”

This feels so filled with truth.

That the world is alive + asks things of us.

How the work we’re here to do is deep + evolving + never done.

How our home is a living being that calls us to creative + responsive relationship with where we are + who we’re becoming.

It feels like our living world is demanding a lot from us right now.

But these aren’t the demands of capitalism -- to do more + work harder + deny what’s real within + around us for the sake of profit + production.

These are demands my soul *wants* to do. To hold + translate vision. To imagine a world where we center human flourishing. To heal + care + nourish more. To love people (self included) harder. To learn + unlearn + relearn. To live deeper. To make things. To become our real + big + powerful selves.

These are the sorts of demands that are required to cultivate beloved community + deepen our souls + participate in the project of our collective aliveness.

I'm so grateful to our living world for always calling us to something deeper + truer + more expansive (and never giving up on that project) -- and so thankful to be in community with some incredible humans who are stepping forward to meet the demands of this moment in some really beautiful ways.

Art + Spirituality

About two years ago, I started making art. First it was watercolor painting. Now it’s digital collage. And in the future it will probably be something else I can’t imagine right now.

I enjoyed art as a child + took a few art classes in high school, but I hadn’t done much art since.

Until two summers ago, when the impulse to create hit me out of nowhere.

But it didn’t come entirely out of nowhere. Looking back, art emerged in my life around the same time magic did, and the pull to create coincided with some significant shifts in my spirituality.

Art started happening for me around the same time I began seeing the world through a more animist lens, when I started playing with tarot, when I started working with my ancestors (+ exploring the spiritual dimensions of that lineage).

For me, art is a spiritual thing.

So now, when I feel stuck or stagnant in my art, I ask myself: Where do I need to amp spiritual connection? How’s my relationship with magic? How plugged in am I to the aliveness in the world around me?

(Or, conversely, if I feel spiritually stagnant, I ask myself: Am I allowing time + space for art? Am I giving my creativity enough room?)

To my fellow artists + creatives: Is the same true for you?

Are there facets of your own spiritual practice that support your art + vice versa?

Art + Wasted Moments + Glorious Inefficiency

As many of you know, I just finished up an art project (my tarot deck).

And looking back over the two and half months it took to get it done, I’m amazed by how unproductive it felt -- how much of it felt like wandering in circles + being lost + just pretending that I could do this thing when I wasn’t so sure I could.

There were the times I spent the hour or two I’d devoted to the project that day scrolling for images (as my medium is digital collage) and not finding what I needed -- the times it felt like all my good ideas were used up and I had nothing left, the times when I spent hours crafting a piece, attending to every detail, only to realize the next day that it didn’t work and I needed to start again.

Still, I finished the project. I kept at it, and it’s done, and I like it a lot. But getting here required *a lot* of “wasted” time + energy + effort.

I learned somewhere along the way that I just needed to account for this + accept it as an essential, nonnegotiable part of what art + creativity require.

Because art isn’t efficient, and creation isn’t linear.

Art + creativity break the rules of capitalism + productivity + perfectionism.

Creative progress happens in flashes, just it happens in long stretches of what feels like a barren wasteland (and everywhere in between).

So much of getting to the finish line with this project was simply about continuing on through those moments where I had very little to show for my efforts -- and beyond the long stretches of feeling incredibly unproductive, impatient, and annoyed with the whole process.

The moments of feeling lost + slow + frustrated were as much a part of this as the moments of inspiration + awe + flow.

I’ll be remembering this going forward. Because I want to keep making things. And to do that, I need to make room for all the imperfect inefficiencies + wasted moments my art asks me to embrace as part of the process of imagining + creating.

Lessons from Business: Two Years In

I started my business a couple years ago, and when I took some time recently to review, comparing where I am to where I started, I realized I feel pretty good about what I’ve built, what I’ve offered, and who I’ve become along the way.

There’s lot of growth + learning still ahead (as always), but for now, here are some of the lessons I’ve learned so far in this early breaking-through stage of business-building:

1) The business isn’t the thing. It’s the container for the thing.

The *actual* thing is the work + art + magic (that my business holds, supports, and facilitates). When I’ve mistaken my business for the thing itself, it hasn’t gone well. Remembering the actual function of business (+ where it belongs in the matrix of work + life) helps me ground into what matters + then direct my attention accordingly.

2) Building a business (at the least the kind I want to build) takes time.

In my experience, business is a slow + organic build. Because business is an alive thing built on relationships + networks nurtured over time (supported by qualities + skill-sets + sensitivities developed over time). So nothing’s gone wrong when it takes longer than we thought. Growing things require a lot of nurture + a lot of patience.

3) Business is a call + response relationship with the world + with others + with self.

So much of business-building is trying something + watching what happens. How do my people respond? How do I respond? How does this feel? What happens in the world around me when I do this thing (compared to that one)?

Tracking these layers of responsiveness has been key. For instance, I began deepening + developing my art in response to the excitement + interest I received when I shared some of my just-for-fun paintings. Another time, I offered a couple of group programs after I noticed I was feeling a little stale + stagnant doing just one-to-one work, which opened up a whole new set of possibilities in my work.

Listening, noticing, and responding (and then doing that on repeat) is what business is all about.

4) Marketing should feel good.

It should also probably feel uncomfortable + terrifying. But it should never feel gross.

There’s all sorts of advice out there about how to sell + market, and I spent way too much time trying to figure out the “right” strategy. Ultimately, I decided that I was only going to market in ways that felt good in my body + right in my soul.

If people choose to work with me, I want it to be because of the depth + clarity of my signal, not the cleverness or pushiness of my marketing.

I learned too that marketing isn’t just about promoting my work + making money. It’s about being the person I want to be in the world. It’s about clearly transmitting what I have to offer in ways that (I hope) make people feel good + connected + hopeful, regardless of whether they take me up on my offer or not.

It's a beautiful process of connecting with my people + sharing what matters to me + getting to know people + making no-pressure invitations. And, at the deepest level, I want that to feel good, life-affirming, and coherent for all parties involved.

5) Business matters.

There’s something life-affirming about entrepreneurship + small/local business. These smaller, more direct models of commerce are spaces where we can share our values, shape culture, prioritize + uplift what capitalism normally devalues (like art + care + connection), and imagine new possibilities.

Our businesses + entrepreneurial endeavors are an opportunity to do so much good in the world. And that's a beautiful thing worth doing.

To my fellow entrepreneurs: I’m cheering for you!

And also sending gratitude to everyone who’s cheered me on along way too .

Art + Activism

For the past two months, I’ve been absorbed in an art project.

The creative process (+ medium I’m working with, digital collage) is reminding me that art isn’t so much about creating something from nothing. It’s about tinkering with what we have, bringing pieces together, exploring the edges and spaces between, overlaying different visions, ideas, and possibilities, and being resourceful with our raw materials.

Art is not a thing that’s separate from where I am or what I have.

And what I have is more than enough to get started.

This makes me think of activism too (another theme of the summer) and all the ways art + activism -- as practice, strategy, and being -- are linked.

Both evoke visions of beauty + call forward possibility. Both disrupt + subvert the status quo. Both summon our deep humanity. Both are projects in story-telling + meaning-making. Both are about creation at their core.

And the more I see this art-activism connection, the more I recognize that what keeps me stuck, frozen, and not moving forward in my art often parallels what keeps me stuck, frozen, and not moving forward in my attempts at activism: perfectionism, fear of failure + mistakes + discomfort, disconnection from embodied knowing, and self-doubt around my capacity to create beauty + do things that matter in the world.

In that mode, I’m missing what we’re actually doing in both projects: Starting where we are. Working with what we have. Holding the vision. Taking small but steady steps in that direction.

The path forward isn’t perfection; it’s devotion. It’s not about burning all our fuel to jump over the chasm between Here + There, bypassing everything in between. It’s about building a bridge, one stone at a time.

Whether it's a painting, a movement, or a better world, we create by bringing together what works better together than alone: our raw materials + resources, our visions + voices, our power + our imaginations.

How might you make good + creative + life-affirming use of yours?

White Supremacy, Fear, and Committing to Anti-Racism

Thinking today about all the ways anti-racism work asks us (white people) to reckon with + work through fear.

Because white supremacy conditions us into fear:

- Fear of black people + black spaces.

- Fear of breaking with (the power + safety of) whiteness.

- Fear of conflict + losing people.

- Fear of getting it wrong + making mistakes.

- Fear of discomfort + shame.

This fear isn’t our fault. We didn’t choose it.

But we are responsible for it. And we have a moral imperative to do our own inner work to diffuse it.

Because that fear can (+ does) get people killed.

And beyond that, it keeps us quiet + small + out of the game.

I’ve seen the ways my own fear causes me to lean away in ways that disconnect me from people + spaces + conversations.

If I’m uncomfortable + afraid in black spaces, for instance, I’m turning away, physically + energetically. I’m not present. I’m not connecting with people. And I’m certainly not available to use my power + exercise my agency in allyship + support.

I also feel how fear often shows up as avoidance + perfectionism -- as not doing anything because I’m afraid of getting it wrong (+ the shame I’ll experience when I do).

And if I let that fear run unchecked, it will likely prompt me to look the other way when there’s shady shit going down -- on my facebook feed, at the Thanksgiving table, or in my neighborhood.

So when I think about what it means for me to be anti-racist in this moment, so much of it is about what I do with this fear -- and my commitment to the inner work it takes to deprogram the myriad of ways white supremacy has conditioned me to be afraid.

This is some of what’s helped so far:

- Getting grounded + connected in my body (so that I’m aware of what’s happening in my somatic + emotional + nervous system in real time).

- Getting rooted in my commitment to love -- how much I love my community + my neighborhood + our collective struggle for human rights + dignity.

- Feeling fear + leaning in/speaking up/taking action anyway.

- Remembering who I want to be in the world right now.

- Plugging into the vision for the world we’re building together + my devotion to *that*.

Love + solidarity, friends.

Meeting the Moment

Thinking about the police murdering George Floyd in Minneapolis + Amy Cooper weaponizing her whiteness in New York + all the ways the black community (+ other folks of color) have been disproportionately affected by the pandemic (+ how that’s shaped our national response to it).

And how this moment calls for truth-telling + public mourning + meaningful action.

(Living in a white supremacy means it’s always time for truth-telling + collective grief + meaningful action).

As I’ve thought about what to say + how to say it + what to do + how to be (as a white person) right now, I keep coming back to this:

Truth-telling matters.

I’ve seen lots of people say that speaking out + telling the truth isn’t enough.

And they’re absolutely right. It’s not enough.

But let’s not confuse “not enough” with “doesn’t matter”.

I believe it’s important to say things like:

- The United States is a racist police state + that’s fucked up.

- White supremacy is real + it kills people.

- As white people, we need to get really honest about the ways white supremacy is alive in us + how our whiteness ties us to white supremacy + how we use/ participate in/benefit from that connection in ways that hurt people.

- Black lives matter.

Not because saying any of this absolves us from responsibility. Not because it’s enough. Not because it’s never been said (and said *way* better) by others.

But because it’s an act of solidarity.

Because ideas matter. They create culture + build worlds + form community. And it matters that we speak + share + amplify good ones.

Because in a world where lots of people deny (+ stand in active opposition to) what’s real, we have a moral imperative to tell the truth. Loudly + consistently + powerfully.

So to my fellow white people who feel frozen right now because it feels like nothing you say or do is enough: Acknowledge that it isn’t. And then say one true thing + do one helpful thing anyway.

Speak truth *and* follow it up with meaningful action.

(Lots of smart people have ideas for that. I’ll share some of them below).

Let's keep going.

Making Space for Grief

I took my time yesterday scrolling through the names + one-phrase tributes of 1,000 (of the 100,000) people we’ve lost in the United States to the pandemic (published in the NY Times).

I read about competitive athletes + adventurous spirits + faithful members of congregations + fashionistas + gentle souls + choir directors + purple heart recipients + artists + immigrants + survivors of cancer, the Holocaust, WWII, + 9/11 -- people who loved their families + had a zest for life + loved seeing the full moon rise over the ocean + possessed a mystic’s direct sense of wonder + oneness.

The day before that, I was at my grandfather’s funeral, listening to stories (most I’d heard, some I hadn’t), crying with my family, and saying goodbye.

Today, I’m thinking about how much grief matters (personal + collective) -- and all the ways it asks us to take our time + make room for memory + gather around story + be with the overwhelming magnitude of what we’ve lost + find ways to keep going.

Grief is equal parts devastation + awe.

It’s an experience of unbearable twistiness in the pit of our stomachs.

And it’s a vast ocean of relief.

Twistiness because the loss is agonizing + relief because we’re telling the truth about it.

Grief is a skill I need to be the human I want to be in this time + place -- a human who feels + loves + remembers + carries the echoes of the past forward, a human who’s an active participant in the cycles of life + death that are home for all of us.

I believe that grieving well is a spiritual imperative of a human life.

Because grief plugs us into love (the kind we feel in our bones rather than understand with our minds).

It supports us in becoming grounded humans + good ancestors.

It reminds us why we’re here: to love + feel + experience + not look away + take this weird human thing as deep as we can.

Grief is a power + vitality + truth the world needs.

And I hope we all find ways to continue to lean in to what it invites + gives + teaches + asks of us.

Creating Space for Feeling

A couple years ago, I had a little bit of a health scare after doctors found a benign tumor on my pituitary gland. It wasn’t a massive deal, but even so, it produced a fair amount of stress + challenge + anxiety + stuff to deal with.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that time in light of our collective global situation -- and about all the ways our grief asks us to be present, our fear asks us to be intentional, and our overwhelm asks us to tend to what’s in front of us now (and about how much energy that takes).

During my health scare, I did a pretty okay job dealing with the tasks + feelings + appointments + uncertainties one at a time.

But there was one day when I lost my grip -- when the fear + overwhelm + the bigness of the situation came rushing in beyond what I could sort through in the moment (it was the day I received the medical bill for my first MRI).

I was at work, so I was tempted to try to shove it down and keep it moving, but I had the presence of mind to know I needed space. So I escaped to a basement storage closet where I cried for 5 minutes (exactly what I needed).

All of this feels a lot like now. I mostly have it together. I mostly have what I need to make it through this time, even as it asks a lot.

But every so often, overwhelm happens, a wave of grief hits, or I just get scared, and I need whatever the equivalent is (in that moment) of 5 minutes alone in the basement storage closet.

I’ve been trying to remember to give myself whatever that is -- to interrupt my day to feel my feelings and take care of myself in the hard moments.

On default, I try to talk myself out of this and come up with all kinds of reasons why I have it better than others and therefore don’t have the right to be upset + scared + overwhelmed.

But that’s not how it works.

Our feelings are not something we have to earn, justify, or even understand. They’re not something we can calculate or explain with linear formulas + predictions.

They just want to be felt. And taking time + space to feel them (+ take care of ourselves while we do) is a necessary + important thing.

However this is going for you, I hope you’re creating space + permission for whatever is rising up to be met in this moment. That in itself is an act of love + care.

Plans for Life + Business

This is my basic plan for how I try to live my life + run my business:

1) Plug into what matters (+ stay plugged in).

2) Try things (+ keep trying things) from that plugged-in space.

3) Commit to not giving up.

This plan helps me approach my goals, conundrums, and problems as creative challenges + dynamic adventures (rather than all-or-nothing litmus tests of worthiness), which boosts my morale + keeps me in the game.

It’s also been super helpful on the weird journey of trying to build an online business.

Because it’s easy to get attached to the specifics, like a particular class, event, or program I’m offering, or even to how well (whatever that means) a facebook post or email message is received.

But of course, a lot fails, flops, and fizzles along the way -- often in ways I can’t really control or predict. And that’s just part of it.

And this is what I can control: my devotion to the deeper thing, to what I’m doing + why (in the case of business: helping people go deep, live big lives, and plug into the magic, which I can do in all sorts of ways) - and my commitment to continuing to create from that space + build bridges into that vision.

Eventually, some of it starts to land + get traction + succeed. But that’s not even the best part.

The best part is my deeper connection to what matters most + deeper reservoir of grit + resilience I’ve built along the way.

And this is also how I'm trying to live now, especially in the midst of collective overwhelm + grief + discombobulation:

- Staying plugged into who + how I want to be in this time.

- Staying connected to what matters most (love + groundedness + communion + creativity -- my people + my vocation + my magic)

- Exploring ways to bring that to life, understanding that not all of it will succeed in getting me there. Some of my tries will fail. Some of my efforts will feel wasted. But in any given moment, I can remember my Why + return to my deep reasons. And I can keep creating + exploring + trying from that space.

And that’s exactly what I intend to do. And I hope you join me. Because the world needs all of us (with whatever magic we can muster) right now.

Sending love + springtime blessings.

Giving Ourselves Credit

I go running most days.

This reliably feels good + gives me energy. But in the past few weeks, it’s felt harder than usual to get going -- and overwhelming to think about all the steps required to make it happen: putting on a bra + tying my shoes, getting in the car + driving to the park, taking those first few steps in the cold.

So every time I do it, I take extra care to congratulate myself for getting it done, doing a hard thing, and taking care of myself, even though parts of it sucked.

My daily run is just one thing that's felt harder + more overwhelming recently.

And I’ve found that taking time to tell myself some version of -- “hey, I get that was hard; thanks for doing it anyway. I’m super proud of you" -- goes a long way toward boosting morale + staying in the game.

Right now, it feels extra important to acknowledge the wins, give ourselves credit, and celebrate small victories.

Extra layers of challenge mean we have more occasions to be proud of ourselves.

So I hope you’re giving yourself credit for all the hard things you’re doing + all the ways you’re making (or trying to make) it through the day right now.

You’re doing great

Making Space for Grief

Friendly reminder that grief shows up in all sorts of ways.

Sometimes it feels like flat numbness or apathetic exhaustion. Sometimes it looks like staring off into space, losing track of time, or scrolling on social media.

Often, our grief feels incredibly unproductive.

There are times when grief calls for movement, flow, and active processing -- when it looks like cathartic tears, deep conversations, lament, and waves of sadness.

And there are times when grief shuts parts of us down to reset our systems and make space for healing.

All of this is normal + okay.

Grief is an organic + alive thing, and so are we.

And what each of us needs in these hard + weird + turbulent times might look different than what we expect or prefer.

How might you make space for what you need + take care of you?

Magic in Mystery

Several years ago, someone offered me a free reiki massage. I didn’t know what reiki was, but I loved massages, so I said yes.

When it was my turn, I walked into the room and climbed onto the table. The practitioner put her hands under my head, and I waited.

But she didn’t move her hands.

I was super confused. What kind of massage was this?

I had no idea, but I settled in to wait it out and use the time to relax.

And then maybe 10 minutes in, I felt what I can only describe as a current of electricity running through my body.

It was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

After, I shot up and asked her: What was that? What did you just do?

She talked about the chakras + energy + healing, and it all sounded like nonsense.

But it was something -- and one of the most magical somethings I’d experienced to that point.

The mystery is what made it magical. I had no explanation for what I’d just experienced.

And that mystery was a pretty beautiful place to be.

It was a place where I encountered something my mind couldn’t hold -- a happening that transcended the frames I had on hand.

I can think of other moments of magic + mystery that have happened in my life before + since: predictive + healing dreams, wild synchronicities, magic moments for which I have no explanation.

And each time, the mystery is where I felt the awe -- that feeling of not knowing, the experience of being catapulted into another world where things aren’t what they seem, an awareness that there’s more than I thought.

I’ve been thinking about mystery a lot lately, as we find ourselves right in the middle of it -- together with the uncertainty + chaos of this moment.

Mystery is really hard sometimes.

Sometimes not-knowing is terrifying + devastating + unbearable.

*And* (in my experience) there’s something holy in mystery always. Because mystery takes us into spaces bigger than we are -- space of More.

And that’s what I’m leaning on now.

I’m making mystery an ally.

An ally on the spiritual quest. A bridge into a new possibility. A portal into a deeper thing.

None of this is making everything okay or eliminating my bad days or dissipating my anxiety.

But it is reminding me that there are things I don’t know. There’s room to move + space to breathe. There’s unfolding that still needs to happen, and there’s possibility in that.

Mystery reminds me that things aren’t all-the-way fixed, decided, or locked into place, and that we can bring our agency + use our power to make something, shape the trajectory, and influence the outcome.

And that’s a sacred + alive + powerful thing -- and a beautiful place to be.

Small Steps Forward

I did a new thing this year.

I taught my first ever live class. It was a 5-week adventure with a lovely group of humans, and we just wrapped yesterday.

Today, I’m feeling grateful it happened + I’m also thinking about the power of doing new things.

Teaching a class wasn’t something I imagined doing before I did it.

It felt too big + wild + nerve-wracking to talk to a group without a script, to hold space for the unexpected, to teach on deep + unwieldy subjects.

But the great thing about being human is that our horizons of possibility shift when we take small steps toward a future we know is right for us but can’t see yet.

It matters that we keep stepping in the general direction of goodness + possibility, even when we can’t imagine what’s waiting for us on the other side.

In these moments of uncertainty + chaos + mystery we’re all in together, I think this matters more than ever..

...Continuing to track with the compass points that keep us grounded + coherent.

...Aligning ourselves with what matters most.

...Staying connected to our dreams.

...Finding ways to keep hope alive.

...Feeling for what continues to call us forward.

Because we still need goodness + possibility + creativity + flourishing. And all of those things are still calling to us, even in the hard moments.

And I hope we all keep listening + responding (as bandwidth allows) to all the ways life continues to call us forward into vision + power + possibility.

Dreaming Still Matters

Ten years ago today, I was traveling through the Sacred Valley in Peru. I’d landed in Lima a few weeks before to begin my semester at a local university, and this was my first trip outside the city.

One of the reasons I chose Peru is that I’d always dreamed of visiting Machu Picchu.

But the rainy season was extra heavy that year, and floods washed away roads and train tracks to the site, forcing evacuations by airlift earlier that January. Machu Picchu was still closed months later, and it seemed likely that we would miss it.

But we didn’t. It reopened two days before our visit.

I remember so clearly that moment of waiting at the gate to go in. After all the drama of wondering whether or not we’d get to go, after travel by plane, bus, train, and bus again, we had arrived at the doorway, only to be delayed by some issue with our passports or tickets or something.

But then finally, there was that glorious moment of walking to the other side of the unobstructed in-between space, toward the threshold past which none of it could be taken away, imminence fading into arrival.

And then I turned the corner and saw my first view of the ancient city.

That was a good day.

And what I remember now most vividly + fondly a decade later is the feeling of a dream coming true in real time.

That distinct blend of awe + delight + gratitude + disorientation + fuck yes.

It’s a feeling I’ve felt before + since around dreams big + small. Like when I met my sweetheart (and realized he loved me + I loved him back), when I made my first dollars in my business, when I saw the last Star Wars movie, and (most recently) when I started teaching a class I dreamed up + shared with the world all on my own.

As I look back on all these moments, I’m remembering how much our dreams matter.

There have been times in my life when I’ve been hesitant around wanting, when I’ve been tempted to shrink from dreaming + desiring out of fear of disappointment.

And I understand that. I have been disappointed. And sometimes that’s been really hard.

But then I look back on moments like this one, walking through the Machu Picchu gates, and remember why it’s worth it.

Because every once in a while, we get to experience the wonder of our dreams coming true right in front of us.

We get to have that ecstatic, shattered feeling of expectations being eclipsed, possibility being born, and magic being real.

I hope we never stop dreaming.

I hope we cling to our beautiful visions of what could be like the lifeboats they are.

I hope we never let go of what pulls us forward, takes us deeper, and lights our way.

Our dreams matter, even in times like these.

Especially in times like these.

On behalf of the world we’re creating together, please keep dreaming.

Giving Ourselves What We Need

Something I’m reminding myself today:

We may need or want things right now that don’t make sense to our rational brains.

We may “feel fine” emotionally, but struggle to get out of bed.

We might be humming along in our day just fine, and then snap at a loved one, seemingly out of the blue.

We may be struck with a brilliant creative idea but struggle to implement it, even though we have the time.

(All examples that happened to me this week).

Today, I’m reminding myself that this is an okay + normal thing.

Our bodies + nervous systems are processing a lot right now. Things are weird + unpredictable. Life looks different than we expected it would a month ago.

So I'm asking: What might it mean to give ourselves space + permission to feel confused (or scared or numb or exhausted or discombobulated or overwhelmed, maybe all at once) right now?

For me, it's meant lowering my expectations around my energy levels + dialing back the daily to-do list.

It's also meant saying kind + soothing things to myself (like: it's normal to feel unbalanced, and it's okay you didn't get everything done today. You're going through a lot right now).

This is a weird moment we’re all in together, and chaos is a wild + disorienting thing that asks a lot of our bodies + brains + spirits.

So please, give yourself what you need + nourish yourself with good things + continue taking care of you.

Sending love, friends

Finding the Rhythm

A few months ago, I was hiking in Big Sur, CA.

For a lot of that trip, I was hypnotized by the ocean, as the waves brought an anchoring rhythm to the bigness of the space + the chaos of the water.

I’ve been remembering those ocean waves this week.

And the power of rhythm to plug us into something that’s both bigger than we are + as close to us as our own heartbeat.

In this time of disrupted routine, I’m leaning hard on rhythm.

I’m going outside to watch the season change in real time. I’m listening to ocean waves. I’m letting the steadiness of my footsteps on my daily jogs + walks lull me into an expanded state where everything makes sense again. I’m breathing + listening to my heartbeat. I’m dancing + chanting + singing.

Because all of these things remind me that I’m part of something big + awe-inspiring + magical + melodic:

Life itself.

There’s a built-in steadiness + ongoing stream of support inside this aliveness I can connect with whenever I need it.

And situating myself inside of this rhythm is doing a lot to remind me who I am + what I’m a part of in this moment.

And that matters a lot.

You are Enough

One thing this moment is asking us to confront is the impact + harm of systems that tell us we’re not enough as we are -- that we need to be doing + producing more, always, and that our productivity is the sole measure of our worthiness.

That in the end, our productivity is what makes us deserving of good things (and worth saving).

This is all kinds of fucked-up, of course. We’re seeing evidence of that in real time, how capitalism (aka: socialism for wall street + the wealthy) has stripped our society of the supports it needs to navigate this crisis well.

At the same time, I’m also seeing how capitalism (and its lies) live inside of me.

I feel how the instinct of my nervous system -- in response to a chaotic + scary moment -- is to do more + be more productive.

To not slow down. To keep pushing. To stay active + activated.

I’m sure part of this is about wanting to prepare + gather what I need + stay safe.

But I know that a big part of it is internalized capitalism -- that instinctively, I believe my productivity will save me -- that my fate will be determined by my usefulness to the economy.

And now is a perfect time to call this out -- and name all the ways our society is built around these capitalist frames (and consequently, all the ways it puts profit + productivity before people), and begin to imagine + create something different, in our communities + in our own selves.

For many of us, this moment calls for something different than economic output + productivity.

It calls for rest + retreat. It calls for slowing down + stepping back. It calls for care + connection.

This is what will support + heal + sustain us.

This is what will save us.

What would it mean to build a world around *that*?

This is what I’m doing about this today:

I’m letting “enough” be my grounding mantra.

I’m breathing it in. I’m creating an experience of it in my body. I’m letting it guide me through the day.

Because it matters that we claim our own enoughess.

It matters that we imagine + create a world built around our collective + inherent worthiness.

Especially in this moment.

So I’d love to invite you to take a breath, read the blessings below, and let them land in your animal body:

You are enough.

You are worthy, exactly as you are (with the energy levels you have).

Your enoughness is not in question here. It never was.

You matter.

Your well-being + safety + thriving matters.

You are beloved, just as you are.

Maintaining our Spiritual Sovereignty

I watched two Netflix documentaries recently, Bikram + Holy Hell -- both about spiritual teachers/cult leaders who abused their power (+ their students).

I’m thankful to the survivors + the filmmakers for telling these stories.

Because abuse in the psycho-spiritual world is definitely a thing.

And like some of the abuse that's come to light in religious settings, it’s an especially fucked up thing because it harms people by exploiting some of their deepest + most vulnerable yearnings (for belonging, meaning, the sacred, spiritual connection, etc.).

It’s abuse that hides under claims of enlightenment + secret knowledge + transcendent truth -- and inside of directives to surrender to a higher authority (theirs) + not ask questions (because to do so would be a failure of faith) + trust the teacher above their own sovereignty + inner knowing.

What I appreciated about both these documentaries is that several of the victims spoke honestly about the beautiful + life-changing experiences they had with the teacher who also abused them and/or their friends.

Which highlights an important point:

Just because someone offers something helpful or life-changing (or has deep wisdom, spiritual power, or miraculous abilities to share), doesn’t mean they are an inherently good or trustworthy human.

And in any spiritual space (especially ones where there’s a power dynamic at play), it’s an extremely good idea to bring the full power of our healthy skepticism + grounded discernment + bone-knowing with us.

In my own life, I have teachers + mentors I look to for spiritual guidance + support (people I respect in no small part because they refuse to be made into gurus), and even as I trust + appreciate them, I know to never trust them more than I trust myself + to never surrender my own agency + authority along the way.

I know I always need to trust myself first, be willing to ask hard questions, and walk away if it’s the right thing.

And I hope that wherever our spiritual paths take us, we remember to ground into our power + inner knowing, choose the boundaries that makes sense for us, and put self-trust at the center.