Last week, we honored our little girl. This week, it's time to go deeper. I see you. Honor that feeling of resistance, but now come back. You're ready for this and we're doing it together. Even the most charmed life holds trauma and you
This post so eloquently captures the journey. The time is now, witches, to awaken to your deepest knowing. It has always been there, waiting for you to rediscover it like a hidden gem. WE NEED HEALERS, women who have been through hell and back, bringing with them innocence and purity.
I'm in a dingy, overpriced BnB on the Oregon coast, clinging to what solitude I can find while I await my van. The Oregon coast is a place of magic. I first met it only a couple short years ago, but it hit me in a way no
I was hoping to catch Wardruna at Fire in the Mountains this July, but my Noovo Plus won't be ready until the day after it starts. I tried to resign myself to waiting til next time, until a Wardruna video scrolled across my feed and I decided to
As I showered this morning, I reflected on the intentionality of van life. How, no matter what's going on in real life, the moment we enter van life, every act must be intentional. A ritual. A choosing. I spent some time this morning thinking on coffee. I have
Because of its simplicity, this is the perfect herbal ritual for van life—on grid or off, kitchen or no kitchen. In this season, we don't just languish. We nourish. About 24 hours before you intend to drink it--make it part of your daily ritual--gather your dried herbs.
That has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? That's my confirmed pickup date, the date I meet her, my soulmate in this journey. I've picked out the things to pick out. I've paid the deposit. And now I wait. Now I
In the summer of 2015, I had this sense of knowing that it would be the last summer I would see in my current home. We had no money, no prospects, just hope. In January of 2016, I began to make ready, putting my faith as an energy into this
The little girl grew up, by shutting down. 40 years of "no," that's not what normal people do. Rocking 4 babies, pouring out everything I had to give and then giving more, silent screaming at the sky while comforting another hurt feeling. Who was there ever
I remember the nightgown, a long, flowy white number that made me feel beautiful. At 7 years old, I was shy, quiet and extremely sensitive. And I loved to dance. I remember spinning around and around in my living room, arms spread wide, full of bliss. Autistic and stimming, though
Ten years ago this August, I'd been all but bed bound being sick for three months after having my last baby. I started to feel well enough to venture, so Rob and I walked outside in the yard. As I stood beneath the green elm tree that had