A few years ago I did a short stint of channeling messages through writing for a handful of clients. The work was easeful, the messages profound for their readers, and I felt good about it, but didn't quite know what to do with it.

It lay on the back burner, simmering and ready whenever I was, to tap in again. As business got busier and I focused on my book, I'd think about what channeled writing is and could do for me, for my clients, for the collective. It doesn't feel like "me" the me that is sitting here intentionally writing about this subject and talking to you.

It's definitely words and phrases and images coming through me. From where? Who really knows, but I believe in a divine presence that hovers in the space between spirit and science. I understand us all to be interconnected, energetic beings of light that are here on Earth to create, to experience a full range of emotions and experiences, and to be present in the learning from all of it. 

A few people have been...

This morning I had a profound realization as I drove to get coffee listening to some 425 Hertz healing music to soothe the after affects of last night's migraine aura. That is: when I have the space to breathe, I have a clear understanding that I'm exactly where I am supposed to be. Every time. 

When it comes to my book, I've been wanting it all to move so much faster. I've been wishing I had more time, more energy, more clarity to get it to the finish line so the long awaited publishing process could truly begin. I've been resistant to believing that I now had to wait until 2025 and even then, not sure how far into the year yet would be best. 

But then the words of someone on my publishing team echoed back to me: "You can do it fast or you can do it right."

I want to do this right. I want to make sure that the book I'm putting out in the world is the best version it could be. I want to make sure that I give it the time it needs so that it can be more successful...

What does it mean to have a diagnosis? When it comes to mental health diagnoses it can be different for everyone. Some resist the trek towards diagnosis because it can put us in a box. A label can become limiting -- for our own psyche, for the care team that helps us, for our family and friends. It can limit what we and others think we are capable of, and who wants that?

Not me.

However, when I was finally officially diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder in my 30s, suddenly so many pieces of my life, my decisions, and my way of moving through the world made so much more sense. Furthermore, it allowed me to get more targeted and supportive therapy to overcome some of the biggest hurdles I'd been facing. 

The label, however, does not define me. I don't believe in its limitations. Everything in this life is on a continuum that we are constantly weaving up and through. A diagnosis can be "both/and" it can be the box we sometimes fit into and it can be the light at the end of...

I just got back from a family vacation on Lake Michigan, and I'm feeling pretty good having had four days of little to no work, abundant family time, and the soothing effects of water. 

I posted a few pics on social media of a beautiful sunset over the water and a plea to get into nature with a little video of the waves crashing the shore. But I want to be real, too. It took work to get there. Not just this time, but nearly every time.

There's the anxiety that exists before the trip, some normal level extra stressors of making sure the laundry is done and our pet-sitters have what they need. There is also the catastrophic thoughts and panic that can sometimes occur, which thankfully I've learned to manage by redirecting my thoughts and looking at the clear evidence before me.

But as everyone loaded into the car, I began to sob. I had taken a little pill to relax me for the drive -- I tend to be a more anxious passenger than driver, so I knew this would be a good idea. I was...

I continued Cognitive Behaviorial Therapy work with Dr. T for a number of years. One day, as we mulled over the latest panic episode I’d had at school, which included a full tachycardia episode in which I needed to put my face on ice in order to bring my heart back to a normal rhythm, he asked me:

“How do you know you can handle panic feelings?”

“Because I do all the time,” I scoffed. Thinking I was just being a smartass. But this wise man sat quietly in front of me for a moment longer so that what I had just said echoed in my mind.

“Huh,” I nodded. “That’s it, isn’t it? I know I can handle feelings of panic, because I survive them ALL the time!”

He smiled, that twinkle in his eye beaming with pride.

“Huh.” I breathed again while he turned back to his desk, pen in hand, and scribbled the words I’d said on the bottom of his legal pad. He tore it off and handed it to me. I read it aloud,...

Blogs are time sensitive and my website and all its pages were down for two whole days. I didn't know it until after I had written and tried to publish my post for July 10th, ironically about showing up as we are.

Technology, some glitch in the matrix that changed the namerservers, the DNS record, things I don't really understand but make this whole darn web run caused the issue. It took multiple attempts to solve it, helpdesk, chat support bots, watching and waiting for the DNS servers to update. When I woke this morning it was back up, as if nothing had shifted.

But I had shifted. When I wrote Wednesday morning I was feeling pretty raw and rough. So when the site went down and I knew I wouldn't have the time to troubleshoot it until hours later after client sessions I had to surrender. Nothing I could do but wait.

That would be the lesson, with each support email and log in and rebooting and refreshing, I had to just wait. So instead of worrying and fretting about it...

I started to look for old writing that I could pull from for today. Waking up with a headache and a heaviness in my being, I wasn't sure I could write a blog post today.

But as the minutes past and my search came up empty, I realized that I could write about this. This moment in time where it hurts to smile because all I want to do is cry. When my hormones are surging in the days before my period so much so that everything inside and out is tender.

These are the days when I congratulate myself for taking a shower. For switching the music to something more soothing, a subtle lift in vibration rather than trying to fake the dance party. These are the moments when wisdom waits for time, when slowing is demanded, even though I have a full day of serving others in their various states of being and expansion.

We do this because it's love. It's love to breathe in deep, to acknowledge the sadness we can not name. It's love to show up as we are, here with words, out there with...

"Nothing good was ever easy." 

It's a quote derived from Theodore Roosevelt who said, more specifically, “Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty…"

My rebel self wants rage against this. "Life doesn't have to be so hard!" And yet, the most prized accomplishments, the most beautiful moments came because we cared enough to work harder for something.

Did we need to suffer endlessly? No. And I think that's the true distinction here. Something can be challenging without causing suffering. Some stretching, yes. A little sore, of course. Some things toppled over or released? Definitely. But we don't have to spend time whirling in the downward spiral of difficulty. 

In fact, keeping that extra layer out of the equation will speed up the process of working toward what we want to accomplish. Simply by acknowledging that the work IS hard allows us  keep going and stop the voices in our heads that shame us for...

It's interesting to be in the middle of a thousand things and still be able to find some sense of peace. My mind likes to second guess it at first, a short and messy mindfulness practice when I can get to it or prioritize it. The parts of ourselves that like to keep a running list of things that aren't done yet, of phones calls we've been putting off making, of the dishes in the sink.

But mindfulness, in the moment, can include those things as long as we place them on a little cloud and watch them float away in the mind's eye. I rely on nature to bring me back to the present, because its beauty calls me inward - reflecting something perhaps.

Today, as I sat quietly on my porch it was the deep, bright blue of the sky. The lush green of the leaves on the trees after a few days of rain. The warbling of the wrens and the faint tinkering of the wind chimes behind me. Nature is not always quiet, but it knows how to quiet our thoughts and pull us into the present. For that, I'm grateful.

...

I often find inspiration from the wisdom of others, the collective and integrated parts of our humanity inextricably linked together helps us expand individually as well. Today, that wisdom comes from Eve Ensler, playwright and author who said: "When we give the world what we want the most, we heal the broken part inside of each of us."

I suppose then, this is what I am hoping to do with my upcoming memoir, Every Day, I'm Brave. As I work to finalize and piece together all its parts, I've come to a deeper knowing that what so many, including myself, really want is to be seen, heard, and loved both as we are in our full expression and through the work we do to better ourselves.

We are not broken, but parts of us feel deeply broken.

The parts that are afraid or constantly worry so much so that we are paralyzed and stunted with inaction. The parts that are unwilling or unable to open more fully to receive love because it's been hurt before. The parts that are sabotaging the dreams and...