Some people are meant to take you on an adventure. Some are meant to test your patience. Others make you contemplate a deeper meaning to life.

We all play roles in each other’s lives, and I take mine very seriously.

So these are my unique vows to my friends:

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In this life, I vow to be your witness.

Through cities, apartments, jobs, partners, family shifts, heartbreaks, celebrations, and every version of ourselves we become, I vow to be your mirror and a thread back to your truest essence. A reminder of how far you’ve come, and how strong you are.

I vow to let you change.

To never hold you to the person you were when we first met. To make room for every version of you that comes next, and to trust that growing into someone new doesn’t mean growing apart from me, and should be honored.

I vow to show up for you in your highs and your lows. To celebrate your joy without comparing it to my own. To never measure our lives against each other or pretend we are the same, but to honor the uniquely authentic lives we’re each building.

I vow always to take candid photos of you, especially when you’re in your element, because my friends are my muses. I want you to have proof of how beautiful you are.

I vow to follow up with you about your dreams. To create time and space for us to continue to dream and remember how we want to live our one sweet life.

I vow to question any path that doesn’t feel like your highest, and to encourage the ones that feel bright and illuminated. To tell you the truth when you need to hear it, and to always have your best interests in mind.

I vow to sit with you in the silence and in the dark, and remind you of the light. To never judge your shadows, and to give them space to express themselves, but not get stuck. To help you decipher what is real and true, and guide you back to your highest perspective.

I vow to share signs and dreams and stories from our past before they get too blurry. To keep making new memories with you, even when years pass between them. To pick up where we left off.

I vow not to mistake distance for disconnection.

Because there will be seasons when life gets busy. When things change, and babies take up all of our free time. When careers take over and stress creeps in. When grief arrives. When we don’t have the time or capacity we once did.

I vow to talk about the hard things. To never let pride or misunderstanding be the thing that takes us away from each other.

I vow to always have a trip or adventure or a wellness retreat ready to invite you on - or to create when we are together.

And lastly, I vow to be my fully expressed self with you. To keep it real. To let you see me in my becoming, too. To not hide the hard parts, but to look to you for guidance, perspective, and support.

Because I fully believe our souls were meant to find each other in this lifetime. To evolve together. To love and support each other along our paths.

And I cannot wait to keep aging, dreaming, laughing, remembering, and becoming alongside you.

In this lifetime, and the next.

When I’m feeling misunderstood, or caught in between awkward moments.

The giggle when we need a reset.

After a family vacation, I feel it the most.

I feel your absence in our family dynamic.

I realize how much we were each other’s escape, safe space, comic relief, or just friend. I realize how normal you made me feel, and how much courage it took for you to continue showing up, letting us witness your full self.

But you showed up when you were weak. When you weren’t proud. Even when it was hard to be witnessed in that way.

We loved you no matter what.

I hope you felt that.

I know it wasn’t easy to take a different path. To explain your moves and your whys. To worry us.

I know that wasn’t your intention.

You tried to save us from the darkness.

The hiding made us sad.

But I get it.

Is it selfish to miss you?

Knowing you’re relieved of your pain now.

Is it selfish to wish you were still here?

Because I do.

It sucks. It hurts.

I feel alone when I should feel the company of our family.

I worry about Mom. I know she’s hurting, and she hides the pain she’s experiencing from us.

Just like you did.

But it just makes it worse.

I never really know what to do or say.

Sometimes I just feel like I’m lingering.

I know Zac feels the empty space of your absence, too.

Maybe, over time, there will be more ease.

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We still talk about you.

I still smirk in moments when I know you’d be laughing with me.

Sometimes I pretend you’re standing next to me.

The silence feels a little more comfortable in those moments.

I am grateful for Andy and Juni, and the family I get to create now.

And I know you’re a part of it.

Juni will know your name and your spirit.

She’ll talk about her Uncle Ian.

You’ll be a pillar of light and protection.

I just wish you could be here physically.

To hug us. To hear Juni’s giggle. You’d love it.

I can’t help but think about what we’d be doing if you were here on family vacation.

We’d be swimming and floating on tubes.

We’d take the golf cart on a late-night mission for ice cream.

We’d probably stray from the group to explore, be late to dinner, accidentally curse in front of the kids, and probably piss someone off.

We’d sleep in and compare supplements.

We’d sit outside in the hammock and act goofy with Juni.

We’d just relax.

Knowing we have each other, no matter what we were going through, together always made it better.

I miss you, little fucker.

To grow into this world understanding the foundation of life.

To know the world that made you.

Because everything else you’ll learn is built upon this.

If you know the force that created you and me, and you carry that with you, I’ll worry less about you growing up in a world filled with distractions from what matters the most.

I'll trust that you'll carry your connection to the Earth in your heart, and that it will always help guide you home.

Because you’ll first learn that we’re not separate from nature, we’re a part of it.

We depend on the Earth, and in return, we're called to care for it.

And when you understand that, I think it’s easier to move through the world with curiosity, gratitude, and respect for all living things.

The trees make the oxygen you breathe.

The wind carries seeds to places they’ll one day bloom.

The soil grows your food.

The sun helps everything grow.

The clouds carry the rain.

The rain fills the rivers.

The rivers flow to the oceans.

The oceans help keep our planet alive.

Every breath you take. Every sip of water. Every meal you eat.

Begins here.

So before I teach you about money,
I want you to know dirt.

Before I explain skyscrapers,
I want you to watch a seed push through the soil.

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Before you learn about roads,
I want you to see the rivers that carved this Earth long before we ever did.

Before you learn to read a clock,
I want you to experience a sunrise.

I want you to feel the wind in your hair.

The grass beneath your feet.

Cold water from a waterfall running over your hands.

The warmth of the sun on your face.

I want you to witness the beauty of a field of wildflowers.

Because everything we’ve built..cities, businesses, homes…

Stands upon a foundation we did not create. We inherited it.

So before you learn about the world we’ve made,

I want you to know the one that made us.

I want you to know nature first.

<3

Take care of Mother Earth little ones!

This morning, I witnessed a microburst of another dimension.

Love, fear, crime, heroism, family drama, territorial warfare, attempted murder, and a miraculous escape….all before breakfast.

It all started when I was sitting on our back porch sipping my coffee, and Andy brought out the binoculars.

He pointed and said, “Take a look at that bird at the top of that tree”

So I struggled to focus the foreign magnifying device in my hands….but spun the middle dial enough times to focus on a perfectly cute little birdie.

I could see its beak opening and closing as I heard it chirp. Wowza.

Then I scanned the rest of the tree…and started spotting more birds. They flew from branch to branch while I struggled to track them, excited when I located their new landing pad.

Andy knows a lot about birds from his dad. He started naming them as they appeared.

“A finch…. A robin….”

“Oh! Look, there’s a baby robin.”

OMG.

A baby robin!!!!!

“Look, it’s learning how to fly.”

Awwww.

“The mom is watching it closely.”

Oh no, the baby got stuck!

NOOOOOOO.

“Should I go help it?”

“No, no. The mom’s got it.”

Okay.

Back to the finch.

Coooooooool.

Wait. What’s chirping over there?

New tree. More birds.

“Andy! What’s that?!”

Gone.

Damn.

Awww. The robin has a boyfriend.

Wait.

Where did the baby go?

Oh. There it is in the bush.

Oh no…..

I think Kiwi is in a crouched position…

OMG.

Kiwi is getting closer.

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NO.

KIWI NO.

NOT THE BABY ROBIN.

KIWIIIIIIIIII!!!

ANDY, COME BACK HERE!

Within 3 seconds, Kiwi has the baby bird in her mouth.

***I THROW THE BINOCULARS AT KIWI FROM THE PORCH****

I sprint down the stairs and charge at Kiwi, yelling RAWRRRR NOOO!!!!!

Kiwi runs away.

The baby is still.

I hope Kiwi did not hurt the baby :(

Mom robin is pissed.

Boyfriend robin arrives as backup.

The entire tree erupts into chirping.

Mom robin hops down beside the baby.

They’re in the middle of the yard now, side by side.

I am keeping my distance but sitting in the grass close by.

The baby seems to be in shock.

I am sitting in the grass with them, keeping my distance, sending the baby all of the Reiki healing energy I can muster up.

Another moment passes.

Then they both fly away.

Phew.

Not injured.

Thank goodness.

Freaking Kiwi.

A duck floats down the river.

Look at him.

Just riding the current.

Flowing so effortlessly.

Coooooooooooool.

I return to my binoculars.

Five minutes later:

OMG.

BIRD FIGHT.

The robins are now taking their aggression out on a finch.

The finch is forced to relocate.

Great choice, beautiful tree.

Kiwi is now meowing at my feet, asking to be held.

I nudge her away.

I’M NOT PICKING YOU UP.

I’M MAD AT YOU.

THAT WAS A BABY!!!!!

Speaking of babies...

Andy suddenly yells from inside…

“LOOK! BABY DUCKS!”

A mama duck and five ducklings float down the river.

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

I cannot handle the cuteness.

They disappear around the bend.

I set down the binoculars.

Take a sip of coffee.

Andy brings out breakfast.

Juni is still napping.

I shake my head.

Wow.

Okay.

That was crazy.

Somewhere in the span of a single morning, I had become emotionally invested in an entire ecosystem.

I must protect the robins from the bad kitty.

I must keep an eye out for the baby ducklings.

I must learn the name of that bright orange bird.

This will be the reality show of my summer. I am invested.

I also can’t help but think that if I had been sitting on that porch scrolling my phone, I wouldn’t have seen any of this life, love, drama, sweetness.

I would have been sucked into some weird rabbithole (likely baby animal related tbh)

I think about how this is only a small sample of what is constantly going on around me, every minute of every day.

I think about how this can be applied to anything in my life.

Noticing.

Not just with birds.

With everything.

When you notice, you care.

Andy’s mom, Martha, embodies this beautifully.

She slows down enough to notice the small things. The little details.

Not only does she notice them, but she also shares them.

She points them out, sends reflections about them, and gives shape to moments that most people would walk right past.

A cloud formation, a flower opening, the way light hits a tree.

She doesn’t let these things go unnoticed.

And because she notices them, the people around her notice them too.

All of this reminded me of one of my favorite little jams: “Bird Watching” by Funkmammoth.

The intro features a sample from what sounds like an interview with a naturalist or bird enthusiast.

The interviewer asks:

“What is it about birds that interests you so much?”

“Well, I think it’s like anything, but especially with living things like birds

Birds are so easy to observe, interesting to watch, and they do interesting things.

And once you start to get to know them,

You start to care about them.

And it’s kind of the first step in caring about the world, you know.

You suddenly realize

Everyone kind of knows that we’re sharing this planet with other species

But once you get to know them intimately or personally ….”

The sample cuts off there. But say less, Mr. Naturalist. Sign me up.

I experienced a shift with my local community this morning (lol)

An hour earlier, they were just birds.

Then they became a mother protecting her baby.

A duck leading her ducklings downstream.

A finch caught in the middle of neighborhood politics.

This was all happening, whether I noticed or not.

The robins were already robining.

The ducks were already ducking.

The drama was already happening.

The world becomes more interesting the moment we start paying attention to it.

And once we pay attention, we care.

You know where to find me this summer ;)

I turn 30 in November. Hello, Saturn return (look it up).

You don’t have a dad yet. But that’s okay. He’ll be here soon, and I’ll be sure to update you when that day comes.

I’ll start by telling you a little bit about who I am today and where you came from.

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I’m a Sagittarius. Whether you believe in astrology or not, I hope you grow up with a sense of wonder about the world around you. The stars, the moon, the changing seasons, the way everything in nature seems to know exactly what it’s doing.

OK focus.

I am currently sitting at a coffee shop in Fishtown called ReAnimator. I come here a few mornings a week because I work remotely for a tech startup, and seeing other humans during the day feels important.

I bought a house here last summer. Coming up on one year.

I travel a lot for work, and equally for fun. One of the perks I love most about working remotely!

I’ll continue weaving bits and pieces of my current life throughout these chapters, but first, I should tell you about where I came from.

I grew up in Pottstown, Pennsylvania, with my first two friends: my brothers, Zac and Ian, and my wonderful parents.

We always had some furry creature wandering around the house. A cat, a dog, a hamster, or once, a baby duck we rescued from the side of the road. Your Nana has always had a soft spot for animals and babies. They somehow always found their way to her when they needed help.

We were a very close family and spent a lot of time together. Sit-down dinners. Bedtime stories. Long afternoons outside.

We didn’t have cable television, and the only time we turned on the TV was to watch a movie from Blockbuster on the occasional weekend night with a babysitter.

Instead, we danced around the living room to Kids Corner on NPR, stuffed pillows under our shirts and ran into each other, convinced our dad to be a horse we could ride around the house, and spent countless hours in the woods making up imaginary games.

My dad built me a wooden outdoor play kitchen and built my brothers a workshop. We played house until dusk almost every night.

We lived near St. Peter’s Village, where we spent summers rock-jumping and swimming in the river. There is a quarry tucked behind the village where my brothers would jump from the cliffs into the water, and where I sat to watch.

The Village is still one of my favorite places on Earth, and I visit the shops and go on a hike every time I am home.

Our house was what we called an “upside-down house.” The living room, kitchen, and my parents’ bedroom were upstairs, while the kids’ rooms were downstairs.

After sharing bunk beds with Zac for a few years, my dad built me my own bedroom. Your Pop Pop is a very handy man!

He built the furniture, too. The centerpiece was a daybed with a window seat attached. Underneath was a hidden storage compartment with a little door where I kept my stuffed animals, Beanie Babies, journals, and all my important treasures.

Looking back, it was probably the first space that felt completely mine.

I spent hours there reading, writing, daydreaming, and imagining what my life might someday become.

We played with the neighborhood kids, biked everywhere, and I took painting lessons from an older woman named Mrs. Lawrence, who lived up the street surrounded by flowers and gardens.

I loved my childhood.

I loved having brothers.

Zac and Ian are my homies. They’ve always been my protectors, my co-pilots on four-wheelers and go-carts, and my companions through every summer camp we hated going to.

If I could give you one thing from my childhood, it would be that feeling: a house full of people you love, room to explore, and enough freedom to spend entire days outside using your imagination.

The rest of this story, we’ll save for another chapter.

July 2018.

Today I am 29 years old. I am living in Philadelphia. It’s July 31, 2018. I turn 30 in November, hello Saturn return (look it up). You don’t have a dad yet. But that’s also okay. He’ll be here soon, and I’ll be sure to update you when that day comes.

This is the closest thing to a “guidebook to life” that I could come up with. There isn’t actually such a thing, but there are definitely secrets that can be shared with you to help you live a better quality of life filled with more joy and more love. I hope you read this someday. And if I don’t end up having kids, I hope these messages make their way to someone who needs a story, a little perspective, or just a glimpse into the path that led a random girl to where she is today.

I’m going to make this an easy read for you, because if you do happen to be related to me... I know that you’re likely more of a “hands-on learner” or prefer audiobooks. So maybe I’ll record this someday, also. Are books still being published? How old are you? Can you read this? Is someone reading this to you?.... Do you even exist? Did technology take over the world yet? Maybe virtual reality has made it so we can create our own stories so easily, so why would anyone want to read someone else’s? Either way, what’s up. I’m your mom. Again, I’m not sure I’ll have kids… so if you’re just a person reading this, hello to you also. But that will be your only acknowledgement, so I can stay focused on my audience, whether we meet in this lifetime or another :-)

I’ll try to organize this guidebook the best I can, but if I’m being honest, I’m not sure how that will go. I hope that you can add your own chapters as you grow older and learn your own life lessons. All I can do, dead or alive, is share what I’ve learned and hope that some of it helps guide you, or brings you back to your center so you can guide yourself.

So cheers to the future ~ to the little beings out there that will someday enter into this magical world. I can’t wait to meet you someday.

Next chapter: Introductions & Acknowledgments. Your Mom.

And I froze.

It was 9 p.m.?!?! This was absolutely not the mailman.

Andy was in the shower. I didn’t want to yell for him because this person was right on the other side of the door.

So instead, I got extremely quiet and slowly crouched down into a squat position at the sink… as if that was going to do literally anything.

My heart was racing.

There was no announcement like, “Hey, it’s your landlord!”

Just another knock.

I started crawling toward the closest window.

Then another knock.

Freeze again.

I was suddenly flooded with awareness about how vulnerable I was in that moment. Should I run to get Andy? No. I’ve got this. I might not have been as agile as I was five months ago, but I felt weirdly confident that some kind of primal mom rage would kick in if needed.

Finally, after three desperate knocks and my knees collecting dust from crawling across the entire kitchen floor, I yelled:

“WHO IS IT?”

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But before I tell you who was standing on the other side of the door, you need to understand my mental state before this knock interrupted my dishwashing. (Thank god.)

We had just moved to Vermont a month earlier for Andy’s new job. I hadn’t yet experienced the beauty of summer or fall, and we were in the middle of what felt like a never-ending ten-day stretch of rain.

We didn’t have community yet.

I was starting to go a little coo coo.

I was finally in my second trimester, where energy started flooding back into my body. I was ready to PLAY. To go on walks. To hang out. Honestly, I was ready to do anything at all.

But this rain.

This house in the middle of nowhere.

Surrounded by beauty that had not yet revealed itself to me.

The whole situation was seriously pissing me off.

While doing dishes, I started reminiscing about Costa Rica just a few months earlier. How free it felt. How lush. No shoes, no pants, no problem.

That’s where I found out I was pregnant.

That’s where my whole life changed forever.

But just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I stop being me. I still wanted adventure. I still wanted magic. I wanted to feel alive.

So there I was at the sink, silently asking myself:

How do I call that energy back in?

How do I ignite my soul this season?

BACK TO THE KNOCK AT THE DOOR.

I yelled again, “Who is it?!”

And then I heard a soft female voice:

“Hi… my name is Rainbow. I’m a hiker.”

Immediately disarmed. (Sorry guys. I know that’s sexist, but you all are terrifying.)

I stood up, walked over to the door, and cracked it open.

Standing there was a completely soaked woman with a gigantic backpack, two hiking poles, and a flimsy little trash bag draped over her body doing absolutely nothing to keep her dry.

I opened the door even wider.

“Oh my god, hi. Are you okay?!”

“Yes, I’m okay!” she said. “I’m just having a terrible time finding a place to camp tonight with all this rain. I was wondering if I could pitch my tent on your front porch?”

Side note: our little farmhouse sits close to the Appalachian Trail that runs through Vermont, which meant hikers occasionally popped out of the wilderness like muddy little forest ghosts. Important context that I very much did not understand at the time.

Once I realized she was 100% an Appalachian Trail hiker (which feels pretty hard to fake), I immediately said:

“Of course you can. But COME INSIDE right now. I’ll make you tea.”

She laughed and spent the next ten minutes on the porch peeling off approximately fourteen layers of wet jackets, bags, and miscellaneous hiking gear.

The second she stepped inside, her whole body softened. She dropped her shoulders, exhaled deeply, walked over to shake my hand, and said:

“Thank you so much for letting me take a break from the rain. You are a trail angel.”

A trail angel.

I had never heard that term before, but I instantly understood it. And honestly, hearing it made me smile so big. I had spent weeks feeling trapped, restless, disconnected, and suddenly here I was offering warmth and comfort to someone who truly needed it.

She sat down. I made tea.

Then Andy walked out of the shower, stepped into the living room, looked at Rainbow sitting there, and went:

“Whoaaaa… hello!”

And if you know Andy, this moment was especially cute because he loves guests and would never question randomly hosting someone. He was just pleasantly surprised to discover we apparently had company now.

Rainbow started telling us about her journey hiking North from Georgia through Vermont. She shared stories about the hikers she’d met along the way, including a guy she briefly dated for about thirty miles before deciding to let him hike ahead after they parted ways.

Naturally, I needed all the details.

She explained how she got her trail name, Rainbow. Apparently she always carried Skittles in her pocket and shared them with other hikers, so eventually everyone started calling her Rainbow.

Her ex-hiker boyfriend’s name was Long Legs (Obviously I asked.)

For hours, she told us stories about the trail. The freedom of it. The loneliness of it. The ticks, the bruises, the disgusting dehydrated food, the weird campsites, the tiny moments of magic woven throughout.

We drank probably three cups of tea while she told us about her adventure, and I was completely captivated!!! I loved her journey. I was rooting for her immediately.

At some point, Andy whipped together a warm three-course meal because that’s just who he is. He’s such a natural host. He wanted to make sure she felt nourished before continuing on her journey. (I love him so much.)

And OBVIOUSLY by this point, there was no chance this woman was sleeping outside in a tent on our porch.

So we invited her to shower, do laundry, and stay in our spare bedroom… soon to become the nursery.

While we were saying goodnight, Rainbow smiled and said:

“I really like you guys and this house. If you ever need a nanny once your little bambino is born, keep me in mind. I’d totally do a work trade to spend more time here in Vermont.”

After she went upstairs, Andy and I looked at each other like…

“Ummm… that is actually a pretty amazing deal?”

The next morning, Andy casually whipped up a nourishing breakfast before we exchanged contact info and said goodbye to Rainbow as she continued on her journey up the trail to Maine.

And after she left, I felt completely energized.

I was LIVING for her stories. For the freedom and adventure she carried with her. For the way she had blown through our little rainy farmhouse like some kind of wild Vermont fairy, reminding me that life was still spontaneous and weird and full of possibility.

It was exactly what I needed.

I had spent weeks feeling trapped, restless, waiting for the sun to come back out, wondering how to call more adventure and aliveness into this new chapter of my life.

And then it literally knocked on my front door wearing a trash bag.

Side note: six months later, we heard from Rainbow again. She reached out asking if we still needed a live-in nanny because she was hoping to spend the winter in Vermont.

At the time, we were actively touring daycares, so the timing honestly felt a little divine.

We messaged back and forth for a bit… and then she asked if she could bring her dog.

Unfortunately, our rental doesn’t allow dogs. Tragic.

But honestly, how magical is that? Full circle.

And I have a feeling we’ll cross paths again someday.

:)

Well, I have. And it was fucking terrifying.

Did I see my death if I continued on the path I was on? Yes.

Did I experience extreme paranoia about plant medicine becoming inaccessible, and what that could mean for future generations? YES.

Did I think the police were waiting for me after my trip because I had somehow telepathically exposed the fact that I was at the founder of a huge tech company’s mansion with a shaman from Peru….. LOL YES.

So, it’s safe to say - this experience stuck with me. It changed me. (will save the full download of my lessons learned for another post).

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And you always hear people harp on integration after an experience like this… integration, integration, integration.

Why is that so important? Because otherwise you black that shit out.

You forget.

You move on.

You’re like, “wow, that was crazy,” and then suddenly you’re back to scrolling the news, paying bills, answering emails, folding laundry, and life slowly returns to the exact shape it was before.

Integration matters because it allows the message to actually land in your body.

To become embodied.

To change the way you operate.

To interrupt old patterns instead of just temporarily escaping them.

And as we all know from being spiritually assaulted by TikTok therapy language 24/7, reprogramming your brain through neuroplasticity is actually a huge piece of making any real change in your life.

Now… post-aya, I was honestly pretty scattered. Mostly just emotionally shook in a way that made me want to go hug my mom and eat soup.

But I journaled.

I journaled and journaled and journaled. Filled pages with nonsense and some sense and just let it all pour out. And I let the visions that I experienced change me for the better.

But here’s my point.

I have these tiny little “aya hits” all the time now as a new mom. And it might not be the same as a 12-hour ceremony, but I believe they’re equally impactful.

And recently, I learned through a friend (Hi Alli <3), there’s a science behind these aya hits; the images that suddenly pop into my mind and make my whole body flush.

Visualizations and tiny flashes of alternate realities. Some beautiful. Some terrifying.

Today I had a vision of getting in an accident with Juni in the car.

Immediately, I was overtaken by emotion. Grief. Fear. Sadness. The unbearable feeling of “what if.”

And you know what I did?

I slowed the fuck down.

I threw my phone onto the passenger side floor.

That one brief vision changed the way I was operating.

Apparently, these visions are a thing in motherhood….

And of course, our culture immediately wants to pathologize mothers and make us sound crazy. They want to reduce everything to OCD or postpartum anxiety or depression.

And listen, sometimes those things are absolutely real and deserve care and support.

But there’s actually a name for these thoughts: perinatal intrusions.

And the theory behind them is fascinating.

The amygdala, aka the “fear center” of the brain, becomes heavily activated and flooded with hormones postpartum. Especially during a first pregnancy, your brain has literally never had to account for the survival of a helpless little human before.

So these intrusive flashes become alarms.

It’s your brain saying:

“Hey. This matters now. Stay awake. Pay attention. Protect this.”

How terrifyingly fascinating is that?!

Our brains are bullying us with intrusive thoughts to protect and survive.

So now that I’ve had many scary, intrusive visuals of Juni falling off the couch or bonking her head, I stopped trying to suppress the thoughts or shame myself for having them.

Instead of spiraling, I started responding with:

“Thank you, brain, for letting me know there’s potential danger here. I’ll be careful.”

Not fear.

Not panic.

Just AWARENESS.

And TBH… It reminds me so much of plant medicine.

Not because motherhood is one endless psychedelic trip… because honestly, it is.

But because both experiences change you. Crack you open. Bring up keep fears and shadows.

Force you to confront vulnerability, mortality, love, terror, responsibility, and the fragility of being alive.

And both ask the same question in the end:

Now that you’ve seen it… how will you live differently?

PLUS, books make excellent gifts.

I love books that inspire me to live closer to my truth and the natural world.

Here are a few books that have shaped me, and I hope you enjoy!

(I love to use ThriftBooks or Bookshop.org)

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Becoming Supernatural — Dr. Joe Dispenza

A blueprint for conscious creation. This book bridges neuroscience and mysticism, showing how thought, emotion, and intention can literally reshape the body and the life. It asks: Who are you beyond habit? Beyond the past?

Gift this when: someone is ready to step into their agency—and take their power seriously.
Pairs well with: a meditation cushion or a blank notebook.

The Energy Cure — William Bengston

A fascinating exploration of hands-off healing that doesn’t ask you to believe—only to be curious. Backed by research and experimentation, this book gently dismantles what we think we know about the limits of healing.

Gift this when: your favorite skeptic is secretly open.
Pairs well with: long conversations and raised eyebrows.

The Celestine Prophecy — James Redfield

A spiritual classic disguised as a novel. This is the book that makes you start noticing coincidences, chance meetings, and the quiet intelligence moving beneath your everyday life.

Gift this when: someone is at a crossroads, or when life starts feeling a little too orchestrated to ignore.
Pairs well with: travel, transitions, and trust.

By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept — Paulo Coelho

A soft, aching meditation on love as a spiritual path. This story honors devotion, longing, and the holy vulnerability of choosing love even when it breaks you open.

Gift this when: someone is healing their heart, or learning to let love be sacred again.
Pairs well with: candlelight and tears.

The Pilgrimage — Paulo Coelho

Part memoir, part initiation. Walking the Camino de Santiago becomes a living metaphor for discipline, humility, and the lessons that only appear once you commit to the path.

Gift this when: someone is walking toward something unknown.
Pairs well with: boots, blisters, and faith.

Signs: The Secret Language of the Universe — Laura Lynne Jackson

A gentle, validating guide to recognizing signs from loved ones, guides, and the universe itself. This book reassures readers that their intuitive experiences aren’t imagined, they’re remembered.

Gift this when: someone feels guided but hasn’t named it yet.
Pairs well with: feathers, repeating numbers, and knowing smiles.

The Signs: The New Science of How to Trust Your Instincts — Dr. Laura McClatchy

A modern, science-forward look at intuition. How the body and nervous system process information faster than conscious thought. This book grounds instinct in biology, making intuition feel less mystical and more inevitable.

Gift this when: someone is learning to trust themselves again.
Pairs well with: big decisions and quiet confidence.

The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World — Robin Wall Kimmerer

A grounding, generous book about enoughness. Through Indigenous wisdom and ecological insight, Kimmerer invites us into a worldview where abundance is shared, gifts circulate, and gratitude becomes a way of living.

This book feels like sitting on the land and remembering you belong to it.

Gift this when: someone is reimagining work, money, motherhood, community, or pace.
Pairs well with: walking slowly and giving back.

in that moment, it was just her and me. breathing together. nothing else existed.

I STOPPED TIME!!!

it felt like magic. my phone was in another room. my mind wasn’t wandering. nothing was pulling at me. I had tunnel vision. no other thoughts could seep in. I was completely gone, in time, in space, in what we’ve been calling the Juniverse.

Meditate….Be present…..Focus….we hear these things all the time.

But turns out…TO FOCUS is a modern day SUPERPOWER.

who wouldn’t want access to a full noise and thought canceling lever in today’s world? it sounds so simple…like something we all know exists but can’t quite access as often and as repetitively throughout our days.

don’t even get me started about Juni going into her own tunnel vision of focus… (every day this girl is my guru).

lets engineer this a bit. presence is focus.
and focus is getting harder to access, not easier.

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I don’t have to get into the distractions of daily life, tragedies, screens, etc.

But what I do have to get into….are stringing moments of pause and tunnel vision together.

Protective tunnels of awe.

Protective moments of dedication.

what if presence is less about eliminating distraction and more about building something stronger than it?

little containers of time where nothing gets in unless you let it.

and this is where boundaries come in.

Boundaries are not only set with other people, they are also set with your time.

Boundaries you communicate and maintain can protect you both physically and psychologically. They can safeguard your time and energy.

they are about choosing, over and over again, what gets access to you.

they are about your attention.

your phone. your thoughts. your habits. your impulses to check, scroll, respond, fix, anticipate.

every time you say yes to one thing, you are saying no to something else.

so maybe presence is not some abstract state we are chasing.

maybe it is the result of micro boundaries.

moment by moment decisions that say: not now. this matters more.

this breath. this baby. this quiet.

these are the moments I’ll look back on with longing.

So to protect them…first I’ll make sure they’re happening, consistently.

And second, I’ll notice the finest details. So much so they become imprints. Therefore the memories become rich and solid and colorful in my mind, making it possible to look back on with a big smile and no regrets.

Leonard Knight.

He grew up in Shelburne Falls, not far from where I recently landed here in the Green Mountain State.

Naturally, I went digging through my camera roll and searched: “Slab City.”

And just like that, the memories came flooding back.

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It was 2020, and I was on another bus trip through Southern California, heading to visit my cousin Angela in Arizona. Somewhere along the way, I noticed a trippy little art park on the map called Salvation Mountain.

The installation was… kiiind of on the way to Tucson. (Close enough).

Since I wasn’t in a hurry, I started moseying my way toward what looked like a big cross perched on top of a colorful pile of art.

Salvation Mountain is a nonprofit art installation created by Leonard Knight, often described as “the man, the mountain, the art.”

On the website dedicated to the project, he’s described as:

“A dedicated man so enamored with spreading the idea that ‘God Is Love,’ that most of our life’s efforts will pale in comparison.”

This is awesome! Amazing vibes. All love.
A tourist attraction in the middle of the desert!

Oh wait, the artist actually lives here?!

Apparently not inside the mountain itself, but in a shack attached to a truck that he built next to it.

Got it. Still fascinating.

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I am hooked. On the website, it describes his passion and dedication to this project. How he wakes up at 5am to begin his day, working the adobe clay that has been soaking in water from the day before. He was working every day, even in the summer months when the temp hit 120 degrees, he would be working all morning.

At this point, I am full speed ahead (55 mph max) in Honey B, my bus, heading to meet this absolute legend of an artist.

As I roll into town, I’m a little shocked by how… out there Slab City feels.

There were zero stops, shops, houses, or signs of life along the way. Just desert sand and a few tumbleweeds.

I glance at my gas gauge. Phew. I’m good for a while.

Once I arrive, I see signs warning about scorpions. I see many trailers. Dirty tank tops. Trash. Junked vehicles…and lots of looks my way.

*nervous laugh*

It’s probably just Honey B’s big presence.
She tends to attract attention wherever we go

I’ve arrived!!

First impression: wowah, I’ve never seen anything like this before.
Also… salvation mountain is a lot smaller than I imagined.

The photos on G. maps must have been taken with wide-angle lenses.

Still, incredibly impressive!

I hop out of Honey B, excited to explore and hopeful I might run into Leonard.

Walking around the mountain takes about ten minutes. Exploring inside, through tunnels and small passageways, takes about twenty.

The paint is fresh.
The colors are vibrant.
The details are mesmerizing.

Everywhere you look are messages of love, faith, and hope.

But no Leonard.

Just a few other tourists wandering around like I am.

It’s beautiful, but after about 30 minutes and not much else to see, the desert sun starts roasting my pale skin.

I decide to retreat back to Honey B and continue my journey toward Arizona.

But whenever I stop somewhere with the bus, I try to take advantage of it.

It’s lunchtime! So I drive to another parking area where I can still see Salvation Mountain.

Why not hang out in the shade for a bit, with the mountain as my lunch view?

As I sit in the bus eating, I continue to observe my surroundings.

Little signs appear nailed to random structures:

“Shrooms wanted”
“Free weed”

Ha. So California.

Then I remember that Slab City calls itself “The Last Free Place.” What does that actually mean?

As I keep looking around, I start noticing more details.

Broken-down cars on every corner…Flat tires….More trailers.
…Interesting structures?

Mostly men wandering around aimlessly.

I wonder to myself: Is this what Burning Man is like?

Except these guys don’t look like they’ve been partying for days.

They look like they’ve been partying for decadessssss.

My body tightens a bit.

Not one restaurant, cafe, or operating establishment in sight. Just a lot of…junk? Slash art? Hard to say.

So I start Googling.

Slab City. “The Last Free Place.”

“Slab City is an unincorporated, off-the-grid community in the California desert near the Salton Sea, known as “The Last Free Place in America” for its alternative lifestyle, lack of services (no running water, electricity, or sewage), and absence of traditional laws”

****My face flushes****

THERE ARE NO LAWS HERE?!

Ha. OK. Thats cool, anarchy baby.

But like, what do you mean…no laws?

Another article clarifies:

“There are no municipal laws because Slab City is not an official town or city. However, state and federal laws still technically apply.”

Okay. That’s… slightly reassuring.

I read on…

“Slab City can be dangerous, particularly after dark. The lack of infrastructure, high rates of drug use, and limited law enforcement contribute to safety concerns. However, many long-term residents argue that trouble mainly finds those who seek it out or violate community norms.”

Oh ok ok ok I’m glad its daytime. I guess I would come here too if I had some illegal hobbies….

It’s safe to say at this point I was feeling a little uneasy. It’s moments like this where I am soberingly aware of the fact that I’m ALONE.

Then I stumble across another article mentioning unsolved murders connected to Slab City.

That’s enough research for today!!!!!

OK. BYE BYE SLAB CITY TIME TO GO!!!!!!

But wait. Back to Salvation Mountain for a moment…

I read more about Leonard during this research also.

And as wildly chaotic as Slab City seemed, it also made perfect sense why someone like Leonard would settle there, completely free to create his life’s work.

First of all,****I learned he had passed away in 2014.

I felt a little silly after the fact looking for him. But his presence was inevitably felt, nonetheless.

But he left behind a beautiful legacy, and a colorful monument to the idea that God Is Love.

He was an artist finding his way, spreading that message anywhere he could. And in a place like Slab City, with its lack of rules and structure, he was free to do exactly that.

Over the years, he used more than 100,000 gallons of donated paint to build and maintain the mountain.

What I didn’t know when I was standing there admiring the mountain was that the project had actually collapsed once before. After four years of work, the original structure gave way.

Most people would have taken that as a sign to stop, but Leonard didn’t.

He immediately got to work rebuilding the entire mountain from scratch, stronger this time, using adobe clay, straw, and layer upon layer of paint.

Maybe that’s the strange magic of Slab City. In a place that looks chaotic, forgotten, and broken…someone built something beautiful that now draws thousands of people every year.

And that is amazing.

BUT, gotta go!!!

I drove full speed, 55 mph, out of Slab City.

***

Full summary of his journey to creating the mountain + how you can donate to the non profit keeping the message and art alive.

Beautiful article about Leonard Knight and his religious awakening leading him to create Salvation Mountain.

In summary, Slab City is known for:

• No police presence unless something serious happens.

• No sewage, running water, electricity.

• No taxes, landlords, or public utilities.

• Community-enforced rules, not government laws.

• Most agree: if you visit, go with curiosity, caution, and a plan to leave before dark

Also known for:

• Alternative community living

• Bartering system

• Snow birds

• Off-grid enthusiasts

• Free-spirited artist community

Fun Fact: Why is it called Slab City

Slab City inherited its name from the remnants of the World War II Marine artillery training base, Camp Dunlap. The remnants of the camp are mainly concrete slabs that once served as the foundations for the Marine training camp from 1942 to 1946. Many residents now use said slabs to help define their property.

I LOVE IT.

Plus, it’s like a trip down memory lane. Weddings. Old apartments. Sharing photos with people I haven’t talked to in years. Awwwwwww.

HOWEVER.

There is one year in particular that was a little more difficult to relive.

2013 was. pure. CHAOS.

In the moment, I probably thought it was one of the best years of my life.

I was traveling relentlessly, living partially in San Francisco and West Chester, PA. Trips to San Diego, Chicago, Vegas, Austin, NYC, AC, and Sea Isle all summer.

Working full-time at a fun start-up out of my boss’s house. Hiring friends to help out. Traveling to New England for work.

Music festivals. A road trip down Route 1.

I dyed my hair pink.

I LOST MY CELL PHONE THREE TIMES.

I had a hot, toxic boyfriend in Santa Cruz.

We broke up. I had weird flings throughout the year that made absolutely no sense.

2013 was insane, chaotic, nonstop crazytown.

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Half of the photos are duck face kisses, blurry, or my eyes look slightly dead. My outfits are thrown together in a way that I know I wanted to be artsy and cool, but looking back were cheap and not well thought out.

Stockings under light-washed jean shorts with Doc Martens? Why.

Cheap chunky necklaces from Forever 21? Why.

Very very tight skinny jeans. Why why why why why.

And I was definitely getting puffy. I am certain now that I was very swollen and inflamed, likely from all of the booze and lack of sleep.

This was the year I moved into a house with two guys and two other girls. Between the five of us, we had three different friend groups. That meant if each of us had a couple friends over on the weekend, it was a full-blown party every time.

So yes. It was fun.

But looking at these photos now, in my current mind, body, soul era, it makes me cringe a little….

2013 Amber chose VELOCITY over stillness. She was experimenting. Wasting no time finding her way by bulldozing through life. Tornado-ing, as my friend Jess likes to say, who appears in about 50 percent of these photos, btw.

She was trying to feel alive.

And she did. VERY alive.

But also… very unregulated.

I was reckless, thoughtless, and free as a bird. I was making a salary for the first time, catching flights not feelings. I was seeking fun, fun only, nothing but fun.

And I found it every time.

I laughed more than ever. I was loud and occasionally annoying. I was intoxicated more times than I’d like to admit. I was overly confident the entire time.

2013 was abundant. Energetic. Fiery. Ruthless. I was on a mission to soak up everything life had to offer, wasting no time at all.

And as I reflect on that year now, I can’t help but wonder…

If I hadn’t tornado-ed so hard, would I be who I am now?

If I hadn’t gone that fast, would I have felt the need to slow down in my late 20s? If I hadn’t bulldozed so recklessly, would I have realized as quickly that I need to be more intentional with my time, energy, and relationships?

If I hadn’t tornado-ed, would I be on the path of yoga, meditation, alignment coaching, where I actually sit down with myself and my own thoughts on purpose? Plus, support my clients in doing the same thing?!!

Would I have the capacity to work fast and keep up with my third startup? Or would I still be searching for who I am?

Maybe the stockings under jean shorts with Doc Martens were just 2013 Tumblr-core rebellion energy. I was experimenting with identity in real time. Not afraid of anything or anyone.

Honestly… thank you, girlfriend, for saving us from a midlife identity crisis.

Okay, now I’m thinking 2013 Amber was kind of a badass.

She was unhinged. But she was a baddie.

Actually, I’m fine.

Thank you, 25-year-old psychopath, for getting your zoomies out so I can now move through life with contrast and self-regulation while still enjoying all the wonders of the world.

Wait….ALSO, the way you prepped me for MOTHERHOOD…..are you kidding me!!?!?! The all-nighters? That was practice, and now it’s game time.

If she walked into my kitchen in Vermont right now, I’d have her sit down and pour her a cup of tea. Actually, make that a vodka shot. We have a lot to catch up on.

I think she’ll like what her restless ass got us into!!!!! And I could use some of her energy about now :)

But let’s start from the beginning, September 9th, 2025. You’ll want to remember this part later—your contractions. At first…you’ll think the broccoli you ate earlier in the day is giving you gas hahahah…you’ll say..there’s no way I’m going into labor. It’s too early. I’m smiling as I type this now. Everyone, including the doctors, predicted you’d pop at LEAST a week late.

Therefore, you think you’ll have an entire week on maternity leave to clean the house, get your hair done, finish your thank you cards from your baby shower…this pseudo early maternity leave dream was fun to imagine, but it will not be happening for you.

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Turns out you’ll wrap up work on a Friday, have a fun weekend with your girlfriend Marie who was visiting, fully convinced you’re entering a calm week of “vacation” aka ~*Mat leave*~, and you’ll go into labor on a Monday night (accepting this as reality after your denial of broccoli gas wears off).

You’ll end up lighting a candle, playing all of your favorite yin yoga songs - and setting up a perfect little nest in your bedroom. Andy will be with you at first, but he’ll naturally get the hint that you are in an impenetrable zone that cannot be disturbed by outside forces. You’ll labor all night, from 7pm to 7am.

In the morning, you’ll know when to go to the hospital. You’ll lose patience pretty quickly as the contractions become unbearable. Andy will set up the car camping mattress in the back of your SUV, since you won’t be able to sit down at this point. You’ll bury your face in the blankets and pillow as he drives you 45 minutes to the hospital, where a wheelchair will be waiting for you.

This is when anxiety starts to kick in, being at the hospital, as everything begins to feel real. You realize there is no turning back… You will be leaving this establishment an entirely new human, as your life is about to change forever.

You hate the bright lights and attention from the people looking at you as you are wheeled past to the birthing pavilion. I need you to hear this from the future: you’ll be in good hands soon, and this entire part will dissolve into a blur.

You check in at 6cm, and they take you to your room. You won’t notice this at the time, but Andy will do a great job of turning the room into a peaceful space, closing the curtains, hanging your twinkle lights, and plugging in your Himalayan salt night light. You’ll be in your own world, and you’ll do a great job staying calm.

You’ll continue to breathe through your contractions. You’ll be grateful for the years of yoga/breath/mindfulness tools to help you navigate the pain and foreign environment filled with beeps and cords and machines and insanely uncomfortable beds and pillows and scratchy towels and blankets.

(You’ll be bringing your own bed, linens, pillows, and towels, if there’s a next time)

You’ve already endured 12 hours of contractions through the night, and you’ll look forward to the bathtub “water therapy” at the hospital to ease the pain. However, you’ll think it’s very silly that the tub is so small, and that your knees, belly, and boobs are all sticking out of the lukewarm water as you fantasize about floating in an actual hot tub. This image will make you laugh later. You’ll get in and out of the tub 4x, looking forward to fresh warm water each time.

Your imagination tells you that this is helping the pain.

You’ll love your midwives - Jocyln leading the charge. She’ll repeat “this is the way” and you’ll find peace in her presence and comfort. You WILL NOT like random pressure point pain management techniques, and you WILL NOT like anyone touching you, at all. The only touch you’ll allow is letting Andy hold you in his arms and sway you, while you bury your head in his chest. This is where you crack open. You’ll look at him with desperate eyes. Wishing he could do something to take the pain away. He doesn’t leave your side. Not once. He is your steady rock, your anchor, your calm voice, through it all.

OK but let’s be real, the most important lesson learned: BRAID YOUR HAIR NEXT TIME. I’m talking Burning Man braids. You didn’t do that this time, letting your hair go wild, and you felt deep regret afterwards. Your hair turns into a complete rats’ nest dreadlock, a problem Future You (aka me) deeply resents. But you’ll take the time to come through it in the 1 hour of pain relief that you received….

Speaking of, you’ll be more scared of an epidural needle than birth itself when walking into the hospital. This fear will vanish completely. After 20 hours of no sleep + laboring, you’ll feel desperate for pain relief that isn’t the dinky little bathtub with lukewarm water. You’re in such a delirious state that all fear dissipates, and you request the epidural.

This experience kept you on your toes.

You felt immediate relief. So much so, you’ll be confused as to where your contractions went. You’ll start to feel loopy and happy. Suspiciously happy.

From the future, one note: next time, be more informed about the medicine. When you start to feel itchy, you’ll ask why. Your nurses tell you it’s likely the FENTANYL in your epidural. If you weren’t loopy as hell, you might’ve been pissed. (Andy will handle that for you.) Later, the anesthesiologist will apologize and tell you that fentanyl-free is an option — it just takes longer. You’ll remember this. And they’re lucky you’re too blissed out to cause any trouble.

That note aside…you’ll be so grateful for the break from the insanity of the pain that had overtaken your entire being. You’ll finally talk to Andy, ask how he’s doing, ask what everyone’s up to, and ask for your phone. You’ll have a silly moment of giggles as you realize how wild your hair had gotten, and you ask for a hairbrush immediately after realizing the severity of the rat’s nest. Smooth hair becomes your sole earthly concern until you attempt to fall asleep….

This is where things get interesting…

Your eyes close with zero effort. When you drift off, your body relaxes so deeply that suddenly ….you GASP for air!!! Your nurse says it’s fine and that you should sleep, relax, you’re just tired.

This is where I need to interrupt from the future: it is NOT fine. It is very important that you ask for help in this moment. Shortly after, the beeping machines speak for you, and an entire team — including the anesthesiologist — will rush into the room. Just know: You will be OK.

This moment will feel uneasy, but you are in good hands. Your blood pressure dropped, and you learn you are sensitive to this medication. Your team will encourage you to move forward with pushing, without a replacement of pain medication. It is too late. There’s no time to process this — only to move forward. This is all you need to know in this moment: YOU CAN DO IT. (although this will very much annoy you and keep you in a state of denial until you no longer have a choice).

This leads us to the most beautiful part of your birth story.

Right after the reality hits that you are too far along and you will be having a natural birth, and it is time to push, there’s a knock on the door. Your mom walks into your hospital room!!!!

This will be the greatest, most synchronistic blessing you’ll receive throughout your entire birthing process. When she walks in the room, you’ll desperately reach for her to come close. She will know exactly what to do and how to soothe you through your contractions.

She’ll be the only voice you hear. She’ll push with you, and you’ll tell her it’s helping. You’ll feel that your voices together are guiding Juni closer. She’ll coach you through your progress, encourage you to keep going, that you can do this, and you’ll believe her.

You’ll push baby Juni out in under an hour. Three generations of Hawkins, powerfully working together to safely bring a healthy Juni earthside.

You’ll feel immense, immediate relief. You’ll feel numb. Exhausted. Weak. You will have used every source of power inside of you. You’ll be utterly shocked by the intensity of the experience — by the tunnel vision you lived inside of for 26 hours and 24 minutes. You’ll feel amazed by the power that exists within your body.

Juni will be placed on your chest, where you’ll remain in complete shock and awe at her immediate instinct to latch.

The time comes for Andy to cut the umbilical cord, and you will flinch at the idea of any more possible pain this could cause…so you tell them to wait, because “I can’t take anymore!!!” you’ll say, and the midwife will smile and tell you you won’t feel a thing :)

You’ll also be struck with a sudden admiration for your own mom and her birth stories — for the love you now understand, knowing that this is how she must have felt when you came into the world.

And almost immediately, you’ll feel compelled to message all of your mom friends: “WTF WAS THAT.” As you continue to wrap your head around the insanity of the experience, you’ll also want to tell them how proud you are of them — how amazing and badass they are.

You’ll float home 1 night later with Juni and Andy, where your parents and their dogs are waiting to serve chicken pot pie for lunch, on a beautiful fall afternoon. You and Andy and Juni will fall asleep on the couch immediately after. Waking up to a new reality.

You’re going to do an amazing job being a mom. From where I am now, I can say this with certainty: it will feel like you were made for this. You have nothing to worry about. Your instincts will kick in, you will know how to hold Juni, how to soothe her, how to let her feel your love.

You will feel proud.

You will also run on adrenaline for the next couple of weeks, feeling like you’re living in a dreamstate. Pinching yourself. Exchanging glances with Andy, as you both look at Juni with pure amazement.

You’ll heal quickly and have trouble resting, because you’re so excited!!!

Be mindful of the fears/ worries/ projections of other people’s experiences.

Stay in your bliss bubble for as long as possible.

Your only job now is to stay present and enjoy the becoming.

🤍

Mostly from ages 12-21. Soccer soccer soccer…. didn’t you just take up most of my time back then? From school, club, college…I officially practiced soccer more than anything in my life.

But these words “sorry, I can’t - I have practice” I have not once said in my adult life. Because in adult life, practice seems to be more abstract, more personal, or easily moved around or deprioritized. My practices today also tend to be more mundane, meditation, yoga, etc. and I mostly label them rituals, versus practices.

If i’m making art, journaling, reading, hiking, etc - I don’t label it as practice. I just do it.

But lately I’m starting to feel like I should. Why do we call something a practice anyway?

Practice definition: (v) perform (an activity) or exercise (a skill) repeatedly or regularly in order to improve or maintain one’s proficiency.

But there’s a big obstacle that blocks us in adult life…

My good friend Cami recently created a reel about the “cringe mountain” that really resonated with me. (Link here to watch)

She talks about how, when we try something new, we have to climb a mountain of being seen in a new way — practicing, failing, being on display — and how it’s not an easy climb. Usually, once you reach the top of the mountain, that’s where people stop. It becomes too uncomfortable. Your nervous system is screaming, and those shadowy thoughts of self-doubt creep in and block the path to the other side. I can certainly think of a few times I didn’t make it over the cringe mountain (and I still kind of cringe thinking about it, haha!).

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As we get older, there’s less and less space to “try new things.”

People have full-time jobs, families, four-month sleep regressions (hello, hi — me), and the chaos and stress of everyday life that society has so lovingly built for us.

Trying new things as a child, a teen, a young adult? Why not! Everyone’s doing it. You’re not alone in your pursuits, and there’s so much time to fail and try again. You’re usually just beginning your relationship with freedom — of time, of choice, of what’s possible.

But when you’re older, you feel a little more… alone.
A little more… on display.

Choosing to be a beginner again takes courage! And it can be uncomfortable. In fact, if it’s not awkward and slightly painful… are you really growing?

Sometimes we’re drawn to new things that feel natural, things we can build from. But if you’re a ballerina who secretly dreams of becoming a Muay Thai pro, there’s probably a pretty steep cringe mountain you’ll need to climb.

But if you never try, you’ll never know. So why not try?

With the help of Cami’s video, and witnessing others with deep, dedicated hobbies - I realized the only way through the cringe wasn’t confidence. It was commitment.

Lately, on my Substack journey, I’ve been inspired to work from a place of practice versus performance. I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember, but sharing my work was never the focus. Recently, I decided to start posting consistently in this space, as I climb my own cringe mountain.

My beautifully creative friend Rebecca recently recommended a book to me: Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg.

The book is a classic, widely taught guide that frames writing as a practice of presence, encouraging writers to trust their voice, quiet the inner critic, and keep the pen moving. In it, Natalie invites you to treat writing as a practice, not a performance.

Reading this book feels like permission to be messy, to strengthen the muscle of being seen, and to keep going without overthinking it.

I love this idea: practice versus performance. You have to practice anything to get better: sports, a new language, cooking, to name a few.

And calling something a practice, like a yoga practice or a meditation practice, feels more inviting than dutiful.

I’m not saying I’m a good writer, I just like to write. So I’ve decided to commit to a writing practice. And it just so happens to coincide with the beginning of the year, which makes it easier to show up, track progress, and keep going.

The more of us who try new things and aren’t afraid to fail, the less awkward it will feel. Let’s continue to lift each other up, supporting one another as we move closer to what lights us up while here on this earth.

At least if I stay with writing long enough, it’s bound to get better.

And maybe that’s true for whatever you’re practicing, too.

“You’ll never feel ready.”
“If you wait for the perfect time, you’ll be waiting forever.”
“You’re not getting any younger.”

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Every one of those statements lit something inside me.

First, rage. Then fear. Then confusion.

Because at the exact same time, I was hearing a very different set of whispers…

“Say goodbye to your freedom!”
“You’ll never sleep again.”
“Your life will no longer be yours.”

Etc, etc: [insert guilt-ridden riddle here].

As a thirty-something living what I thought was my best life, changing careers with no plan, flowing through life untethered, and living what could be considered a “selfish” life of travel and adventure… these constant reminders caused panic at times…as well as thoughts about whether I’m meant to be a parent in this lifetime.

“Maybe it’s not in the cards for me after all?”… “Will I even be able to have kids once I am ready?”

To be clear, I’ve always wanted kids. I assumed I’d have them someday. I just wasn’t like, “I can’t wait to have kids!” Zero urgency.

AND, there were a few logistical details to sort out first. Like meeting my baby daddy, for example, which did not happen until I was 32. Young, in my opinion (30s are the new 20s, fight me).

Before this happened, I had a talent for dating men who were either jobless, very clear they did not want kids, or wanted kids, but in a way that kinda freaked me out. (I’ll save my subconscious blocks related to dating for another post.)

It was the summer of 2021 when I met Andy (said baby daddy). I knew something was different about him. I felt it in my bones. He was my person. He lit me up. He was someone I could easily imagine having a child with.

Just……not yet!

When we met, we were both living rather fancy-free lifestyles; he was in grad school getting his MBA, I was living and traveling in my camper bus in-between jobs. We were having FUN. We wanted to travel. We were supporting each other’s financially irresponsible passion projects (music festivals and wellness retreats! Not exactly kid-friendly undertakings).

So it was safe to say, we were in no hurry to tackle any relationship milestones, including popping out a baby any time soon.

Over the next few years, our vision for the future and family planning slowly but surely started to sync- but the timing was still a battle. At this point, I’d hit the “geriatric” age of 35 where I’d be treated differently in the hospital. Women my age were starting to consider fertility alternatives after years of trying to get pregnant…who was I to assume it would be so easy for us?

So…our story goes like this. It was the winter of 2024. The Winter Solstice, the darkest night of the year in December, right before Christmas. We had been living in Philadelphia for a few months, getting my house ready to rent again. It was the end of Q4 at work, and Andy and I had plans to go to happy hour as soon as I slammed my laptop shut.

When I walked downstairs….Andy and Kiwi (our cat) were sitting at our dining room table with flowers and a card. I read the card aloud, while Andy got down on 1 knee…presents a gorgeous ring, and asks me to marry him!!! IT WAS VERY SWEET. (Again, longer story for another time. But noteworthy.)

I say YES! We celebrate with friends and family, and start to get excited about planning a wedding.

And then life moved faster than our plans.

SIDE NOTE* you have a notepad in your phone titled “baby names”, don’t you!??! Well, I’ve had one for about 10 years. Earlier that year, at my yoga studio, I noticed a tag of graffiti art that my mind translated to “Juniper”. I immediately thought - WOW. I LOVE that name for a baby girl. How had I never thought about this name before?! So I added the name “Juniper” to my notepad ….. It felt like a download

A few weeks after the buzz and celebration of our engagement, I had preexisting plans to fly to Costa Rica with my bestie Maxine. I was sad to leave my ring (and fiancé) at home, but I wasn’t feeling responsible enough to travel with it quite yet.

Anyway, when I first landed in San Jose, I was SO TIRED. Long flight, right?

I was meant to get my period a couple days later, but I was late. I’m usually on time..but…different environment…could be all the rice and beans……. right?

OK its day 3 and I still do not have my period. That’s odd… maybe I won’t have a margarita today.

Day 4, nothing. OKKKKKKK. This is feeling funny……..

Day 4 afternoon: I am working from Costa Rica, and I get a Slack message from a coworker in response to asking for a reference……

MY JAW DROPPED. (I didn’t even know we had a client by this name…!??!?!)

I said aloud, “omg. JUNIPER IS HERE.”

I run and tell Maxine, and we immediately go to buy a pregnancy test at a farmacia in Dominical, CR. I pee on the stick immediately, BUT I wasn’t ready to look at it yet…so I put it in my backpack and told Maxine we’d wait until sunset, or something special to see the results.

……we forgot.

I fished it out of my backpack before bed and!!!! The results had dried up :( Ha! Did not realize that was possible.

So, the next day, I get another test. I don’t mess around this time…and I take the test as soon as I get home.

The results instantly say positive.

My knees went weak, I dropped to the ground, and started crying. Maxine joined me on the ground and gave me a big hug. This disorienting feeling is something I’ll never know how to put into words…Something I had actively avoided my entire life until this point has suddenly shifted to a welcomed reality. A mix of disbelief, terror, happiness, gratitude, with a dash of queasy. I will remember this moment forever.

I FaceTimed Andy after gaining strength in my legs to peel myself off of the ground. He was visiting his parents where he popped out to the local YMCA. I told him while he was mid-set on a workout machine. His tears of joy made me feel so grateful we were on this journey together.

Turns out…the math says, we conceived the night we got engaged. My mom calls it our “love baby”.

And if you know me well, you know I love to think about our little spirit baby waiting in the spirit realm, highly anticipating her mom to FINALLY COMMIT TO SOMETHING (slash someone). My verbal “Yes” to Andy’s proposal was all she needed to come join the party.

I am beyond grateful that she made this decision for us, and that she helped orchestrate Andy and I finding each other and falling in love.

Because I know making this decision was likely not going to happen anytime soon….we didn’t feel ready!

The journey after the positive pregnancy test was TERRIFYING. I did not realize how much fear had been bubbling up inside of me - the whispers becoming screams “say goodbye to your freedom”… the fear of the unknown, the fear of immense responsibility, of losing myself, my identity, life as I once knew it. Tying myself to not only 1, but 2 people for at LEAST the next 18 years. Not to mention BIRTH ITSELF! My entire vagina temporarily resizing to 10 centimeters to allow a HUMAN CHILD to exit my body…..sooo, how do I do this?

These feelings of fear held me back for a long time. They held me back from declaring motherhood as a core desire. Subconsciously, I was making every move possible to avoid motherhood - but it was something I knew I wanted more than anything in this lifetime.

Every day I feel blessed we were ABLE to get pregnant, that Juni CHOSE us as her parents, and also chose her timing.

This experience brought me closer to my faith in believing that if we trust, life will happen for us. We do not have to carry the weight of making every single decision in our lives, even when it feels like we have that control at times.

Now that she is here...it’s the CLASSIC “I can’t imagine my life without her…She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. My heart is exploding.”

I am being tested in a new way, feeling the extent of the human experience, and my heart is painfully swollen. I know that as she grows in size, our hearts will too…and we’ll continue to learn from each other every day.

Being her life sherpa is the biggest honor I’ve ever accepted in my lifetime.

Last year, I traveled to Costa Rica on December 29, to meet up with my best pal Maxine, who was spending the winter along the Osa Peninsula.

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Her lease wasn’t up until January 1, so we decided to wait until after NYE to meet in the middle and continue our journey to a different city for our own little wellness retreat! Major logistical puzzle solved.

Neither of us cared much about partying for NYE, and I was happy to have a few days to myself upon arrival. Winter in Philly was brutal, and I was ready for some guilt-free naps in a hammock, binging on coconuts, and finally starting a writing project I had been procrastinating on.

So I booked an Airbnb for a couple of nights by myself. A little guest house where I could walk to cafés and a big park. Mostly, though, I was excited to hunker down until meeting up with Maxine.

The first two days were very chill. I slept a lot, walked around, talked to locals, and wrote my little heart out. It even rained on one of the days! I was feeling charged up.

On NYE, I planned to take myself out to dinner at a restaurant I’d been to before (Apotecario). I had the entire day to rest and enjoy my last solo day. I’d booked a shuttle to pick me up at 6 am to start my journey to the coast, so I had zero intention of staying out late or seeing the ball drop.

On my way home from the coffee shop that morning, my host flagged me down and said,
“Amber! ¡Feliz Año Nuevo! Just a reminder: check-out is today at 11!”

ERRRRRMMMMMMMMM ?!!??!?

I said, “Oh my goodness, I thought my checkout was tomorrow….January 1?!”

She replied, “No, I’m sorry. We have someone else checking in this afternoon. Bye-bye!”

So of course I checked my booking. And she was 100% correct. I was checking out on the 31st. Meeting Max on the 1st. Sooooooo… I didn’t have much time. My last day in San José was already looking very different from what I expected.

My shuttle was picking me up the next morning, right around the corner at a place called Chillout Hostel, with a huge hang-ten mural painted on the outside.

So obviously, because my shuttle was arriving at 6 am, this seemed like the best option. But… a hostel?! It’s not that I’m above a hostel….it’s just that I was REALLY looking forward to some alone time. But who knows, maybe they’d have a private room?

Nope.

The only bed available was an unbeatable rate of 12,400 colones (around $25) for the night. A classic bunk bed in the girls’ dorm. And it was the last one. They were completely full for the holiday.

I quickly searched nearby Airbnbs. Four times the price.

OK, fine. What’s the big deal? Get over it. I can hide in my bunk for one night. It’s fine. It’s NYE. Go with the flow. Whatever.

Booked. Dropped my bags. Went out exploring for the day.

When I came back to the hostel to get ready for dinner, I was determined to keep to myself. TBH, I just wasn’t feeling that social. I was saving my energy for the next month of being in company (I’m a Projector in HD — don’t come at me).

On my way to the bathroom, a sweet German girl, probably half my age, wearing a bright green dress invited me to have a beer in the common area and play a game.

“Thanks, maybe later,” I said.
(No.)

Back in my dorm room, a blonde gal from the UK asked if I was traveling alone.

I said yes.

She said, “OMG! I’m so glad to have someone to hang with who’s also traveling alone!!!!!!!!”

…I am lol’ing in my mind.

We exchanged niceties. I told her I was going to take a little catnap before dinner. I climbed into bed, pulled the curtain on my bunk, and stared at the underside of the bed above me.

This might be trickier than I thought. But it’s OK. I’m allowed to say no.

I lay there for about an hour, eyes wide open, waiting for the sounds to die down.

Maybe everyone will leave before me, and then I’ll make my escape to dinner.

It was time.

The room was empty. This was my chance.

I got out of bed, slipped on my sandals, and headed into the bright, colorful hallway. I stopped at the front desk to confirm directions to the restaurant, had a nice chat, and made my way toward the front gate.

Suddenly I hear….

“Amber! Over here!”

There were my bunkmates, waving me over to a rowdy group sitting in a circle.

Of course I went over to say hello… and immediately met ten new international friends bonding over a game called Left Right Center. No strategy. All luck. Easy to learn.

Next thing I know, I’m on my second beer, completely addicted to the game, chatting and delighting in the accents from all over the world. I am having a GREAT time.

OK. OK OK. That was fun. I’m glad I did it.

But now…. I must go to dinner.

I tell my new friends my plan.

“I’ll join you!” says my German friend.

“Us too!” say three 25-year-old Dutch boys.

Pretty much everyone in the game catches wind of the plan and decides to join.

I’m dying inside.

“OK, I’m leaving now, though,” I say, planning to RUN.
“So if you’re not at the front gate when I leave, I’ll just see you there.”

But let me tell you….there they were! At the front gate. Ready to roll.

I still laugh thinking about that scene.

Walking to the restaurant with about seven international ducklings trailing behind me, on a night I had fully planned to spend completely alone.

But the story doesn’t end there.

We arrived at the restaurant around 8pm and it was totally slammed. No chance we were getting a table for eight. And it was one of the few places open because of the holiday.

So we wandered the streets together, searching for somewhere…anywhere… to eat. It wasn’t until 10pm that we finally landed in a dive bar serving burgers that could feed all of us.

I had really hoped to be in bed by then. Ha!

At dinner, I found myself deep in conversation with the girl from the UK about her brutal breakup. Her trip to Costa Rica was helping her feel strong enough to move on, to start fresh.

One of the 25-year-old Dutch boys talked about his girlfriend back home and how he didn’t know how to get her back. Next thing I knew, I was helping him draft the perfect WhatsApp message and mapping out his game plan for when he returned.

We played Two Truths and a Lie. We laughed. We finally ate. And eventually, I said my (final) goodbyes while the group sorted out their next stop.

When I crawled back into my bunk, I smiled.

I had tried pretty hard to fight that night. But I ended up having such a good time. And looking back, I love to think the universe was gently nudging me and saying:

AMBER. Go have fun. This is your last New Year’s Eve without a baby on your hip!!!!

So even though it was with strangers, I’m grateful for that group! For giving me no choice but to be present, to laugh, to stay out late. And for those few days of total freedom and solo time, when the only thing I had to do was follow my curiosity and wander around a city with my notebook.

And oh, how wonderfully different this NYE looked, and how much can change in a year!

Andy and I put Juni down at 7 pm, poured two glasses of red wine, lit a candle, and Andy (aka Francisco in the kitchen) cooked us two perfect steaks. We talked about the year we’d had. How much had changed, how much had unfolded.

We completed Sierra Lash (my IG crush)’s Vault — a ritual where you send in your hopes and dreams for the year ahead and receive them back one year later.

Of course, I know I’ll have another spontaneous, adventurous, very Sag-coded New Year’s Eve in my future. But for now,

I’m grateful to be exactly where I am: a warm home, my family, and FINALLY an early night on New Year’s Eve ;)

Across traditions, the shared belief isn’t: “Everything is predetermined.”
It’s: “Nothing is meaningless.”

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This has always spoken to me.

Seeing a book, article, or quote that perfectly answers a question you’ve been pondering.

A conversation that lands at exactly the right moment.

Finding a coin in your pocket just when you need it.

A phone call from the person you were just thinking about.

Life isn’t something that happens to us.
It’s something we’re constantly in conversation with.

And participation matters.

We have to remember: we are all messengers.

We’re not just the main characters in our own stories.
We’re guides, messengers, and mirrors in other people’s lives too.

If a podcast reminds you of a friend — send it.
If you feel magnetized toward a hobby, a building, a class, a person — follow the nudge. Follow the pull.
If you dream of someone, tell them.
If you feel called to chat with a stranger — say hello. Don’t let shyness get in the way of connection.

Life moves when we respond.
Not participating can interrupt the flow.

Serendipity (noun):
The occurrence of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way—often involving an unexpected discovery while looking for something else.

Serendipity is collaborative.
It’s noticing the small things.
It’s listening to your intuition.
It’s flow.
It’s trust.

But most importantly, its connection!

Two books helped shape this understanding for me: The Alchemist and The Celestine Prophecy. Both are technically fiction, yet both point to a deeply non-fiction truth—that life supports us when we listen, that nothing is random, and that our participation matters more than we think.

Some context across traditions:

Judaism
There’s a common saying: “There is no coincidence, only God’s providence.” Events are seen as divinely orchestrated, even if their meaning isn’t immediately clear.

Islam
The concept of Qadar (divine decree) suggests everything happens by God’s will. What looks like coincidence is actually part of a larger, unseen design.

Hinduism
Events are understood through karma and dharma—cause and effect across lifetimes. Nothing is random; everything is connected through past action and soul lessons.

Buddhism
While not framed as divine, Buddhism rejects randomness through dependent origination—everything arises because of conditions. Coincidence is simply complexity we don’t yet understand.

Indigenous & animist traditions
Many view life as relational and symbolic. Animals, dreams, meetings, and timing are messages. Ignoring them is seen as being out of alignment with the natural order.

Not said the thing.
Not applied.
Not shared.
Not offered a very real part of you.

Because you got paralyzed.

I know I have…

Just last week, I wrote a very personal Substack.

I reworked it. And reworked it again.
It felt good to write — the words were flowing out of me.

Then it came time to post.

I hovered over the button, reread it one more time, and felt that familiar tightening in my chest.

Is this too much?
Will people misunderstand me?
Does this actually matter?

So I closed my laptop and told myself I’d come back to it later.

Which, historically, is how things quietly die.

Paralyzed.

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I’ve found personally, and while talking with friends, that this is — hands down — the most common block we experience as humans when we try to express ourselves, share our work, or simply be ourselves in a more public way.

And I want to question it. Deeply.

Why the fuck do we care what other people think?
Why do we let it run our lives?
Why do we let it stop us from doing what we want to do?

We have this one sweet life.

Oh right… because sharing isn’t as intimate as it once was.

We were evolutionarily designed to live in small villages. Tight-knit communities. Real support systems. Back then, “what people think” meant the 30–50 humans you depended on to literally stay alive. Belonging wasn’t about ego — it was about survival.

Now?

“Community” can mean hundreds. Thousands. Sometimes millions.
Strangers watching, judging, scrolling.

Our nervous systems haven’t caught up.
So of course it feels terrifying.

We all have that friend who wants to start the business.
Share the art.
Say the thing.

But what stops them?

Will they think I’m cringe?
What if it’s not good enough?
Am I even qualified?

Ew.

Here’s my take: we’re all going to die. You are only going to be in THIS UNIQUE body once. You will only be at your current age, in your current health…in your current circumstances…once.

Are you really going to look back and realize you held yourself back because you imagined that Tammy from high school — who’s currently sitting on her couch doing absolutely nothing with her life — might be judging you?

…not good enough.

I love what Brené Brown says:

“If you’re not in the arena getting your ass kicked, I’m not interested in your feedback.”

And now… I have a daughter as a witness.

She sees my choices. My hesitations. My courage.

What am I going to tell her as she grows up?

Express yourself.
Be yourself.
Don’t let anyone dim your light or stop you from going after what you want.

And if I’m going to hype her up like that, then it’s time to get off my own bullshit and live it.

Because here’s the deeper truth:

When you don’t share your words, your art, your ideas, your gifts —
it’s not just about you.

You never know who you could be uplifting.
Who needs your words to feel less alone.
Who needs to see someone else be brave so they remember they’re allowed to be brave too.

Expression isn’t self-indulgent.
It’s connective.

I love to write.
I love to share stories, lessons, synchronicities, and the quiet magic woven through everyday life.
I love guiding people back to themselves — to clarity, creativity, courage, and the aligned life they know they’re meant for.

And I’m done letting these silly little blocks get in my way — and in the way of the people I love most — from sharing their gifts with the world.

So here’s a practice I return to whenever insecurity creeps in:

I write a letter to myself from 85-year-old me.

I imagine what Grandma Amber would say to mid-30s Amber right now.

She’s lived a full life. She’s survived heartbreaks, risks, embarrassments, and regrets. She has zero patience for nonsense and absolutely no interest in playing small.

So I let her talk.

She writes to me about:

• what I’m afraid to share

• where I’m censoring myself

• who I’m worried about upsetting

• what I’ll regret not trying

Sometimes she’s gentle…Sometimes she swears…but she’s always clear.

She reminds me that life is my playground. Life is what I decide to make it. Life is for helping others, for connecting and preserving the nature that keeps us alive. She keeps things in perspective and reminds me to love deeply. Be present. She always reminds me of how fast it goes. How nothing lasts forever. How lucky I am. She tells me to live from a place of love, and not fear.

Future-me isn’t worried about being cringe.

She’s worried about me not trying. She’s worried about looking back at her life with regret.

And then! Moving forward usually seems a lot less daunting..a lot less significant. Almost too simple.

If you’re ever feeling this way…what does your inner grandma — or grandpa — want you to know now!??!?!??! They’re wise :)

I am writing this quickly as Juni is napping :) It’s a cold day here in Vermont. I’ve found this cozy season perfect for writing, cooking, and organizing my art supplies.

I send out this template every year in hopes of inspiring you to take a few moments by yourself, or with your partner, to reflect on the year we are wrapping up, and get excited for 2026.

Side note: Since last year sold out (!!!) I’ll be offering 2026 Vision + Hypnosis Sessions, where you’ll get a personalized hypnosis track to supercharge your 2026 goals. I loved witnessing your dreams come to life! Here’s a link to learn more.

As you may have heard, 2025 was the year of the Wood Snake re: the Chinese lunar calendar and the 12-animal zodiac cycle. Here’s a little summary to get you up to speed. (S/O to my favorite astrology friend Eric, from the Unlock Method for educating me on these themes!)

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2025 · Wood Snake Year

A year of clarity, shedding old layers, and trusting your inner wisdom. Snake energy helps you release what no longer fits so you can move forward with more authenticity. The Wood element adds growth, creativity, and fresh vision—a year of quiet but powerful transformation.

2026 · Fire Horse Year

A bold, fast-moving year of momentum, passion, and courage. Fire Horse energy invites freedom, big dreams, and decisive action. It’s the year to run toward what you want, break old patterns, and let your inner fire lead the way.

Now with that in mind….Here are your prompts!

2025 Reflection

• Pick one word to describe your theme of 2025

• Make a list of what you are most proud of

• What was a lesson(s) you learned this year?

• What is one thing you want to leave in the past?

Creating your Vision for 2026

• What are your top priorities for 2026?

• Describe how you want this year to feel?

• List 3 small action items that will help you feel supported while working towards your vision for this year

• Pick one word to describe your theme of 2025

If you are in a relationship:

• What was one of your favorite memories this year as a couple?

• What is something you are proud of that you got through as a couple this year?

• What is something you learned about your relationship this year?

• What is your vision for your relationship in 2026

• How can you best support your partner and their goals in 2026?

• What are some things you want to improve in your relationship in 2026?

• What are some of your couple goals for this year? (travel, finance, family plans, etc)

I also love creating a Pinterest board for each year. I don’t overthink it—it’s more like letting my intuition gather whatever images, colors, moods, or ideas feel alive for me. Somehow, those little nuggets end up becoming a mirror of the energy I want to embody in the year ahead.

I’d love to hear from you, too. What theme words are calling you for 2026? What goals or shifts are you excited to step into?

You have a family that needs you, a phone that won’t stop buzzing, headphones in at the gym or on a walk, a friend you call on your commute—and when you’re finally alone, you scroll. Maybe you meditate… but we know that isn’t for everyone.

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But I’m here to remind you of something important—something that will help you gain the deepest confidence in this lifetime, and hopefully inspire you to carve out time for yourself.

This morning at the coffee shop, I was chatting with a friend about how grateful we are for the people in our lives who take their personal growth and little serendipities seriously. Because at the end of the day, we really do need each other—people who remind us of what matters, people who nudge us toward our highest potential.

The friend who shares a dream they had about you.

The one who sends you a book or podcast because it made them think of you.
The friend who invites you to an event they know you’ll love.
The one who gently holds you accountable for a goal you shared.
The one who reminds you of your strengths when you forget them.

We are constantly inspiring, guiding, and pulling each other closer to who we’re meant to be.

While our community helps guide us, the most powerful work begins within. Sure, not everyone is a “self-improvement junkie,” but it’s so much more than striving to be the best.

The more you get to know yourself, the clearer your preferences become—what you want, what you don’t want, and what truly nourishes you. This is where purpose, clarity, and confidence start to grow.

It’s about showing up for the world the way you were meant to. It’s about playing your part in the larger story we’re all living together—your role in the bigger movie we’re all acting in.

And the more you commit to this journey of self-inquiry, the more self-assured you become.

This deeper knowing creates a natural confidence—confidence in who you are, what you stand for, and how you want to move through the world.

Confident people are simply self-aware. They’ve learned to seek clarity, honor it, and take aligned action. Confident people become magnets for what they want.

This is how an intentional life is created—one designed around your unique desires, values, and gifts.

Some might think this is a luxury, or even a selfish way of being…
What are you doing, just sitting around meditating and journaling all day?!

So why is this so important?

Because what you discover along the way is that this is actually the least selfish thing you can do. We feel our best when we are of service to others—and we do that by living our purpose out loud. Everyone wants to feel helpful; this is how you provide real value to your community.

But self-inquiry takes time and effort. It doesn’t happen overnight.

And the journey is half the fun. There isn’t usually a straight line back to your purpose, so in the meantime you get to bounce off walls, meet new people, follow breadcrumbs, help others along their path—and that’s all part of the magic.

The goal is to equip yourself to show up outwardly in the way the world actually needs.

Because we need you.
We need you to show up as you were meant to—so we can witness your greatness, receive your gifts, and feel the ripple effect of you living in alignment.

This is how your life takes shape.

The more you get to know yourself, the more confident you become. And the more confident you are in your gifts, the more the world benefits.

Keep nudging your people towards their highest potential, we need you <3

Over time, I’ve found certain tools to be incredibly helpful in deepening self-awareness and confidence:

• To Be Magnetic Work – Practices that help you understand your energy, your desires, and how to show up in alignment with them.

• The Artist’s Way Morning Pages – Free-writing first thing in the morning to clear your mind, uncover hidden thoughts, and spark creativity.

• Journaling – Daily or weekly reflections to track patterns, insights, and breakthroughs.

• Year-End Reflection – Looking back on the past year to note what went well, recurring themes, and moments that felt meaningful.

• Paying Attention to “Pings” and Signs – Noticing feelings, coincidences, or opportunities that feel significant or meant for you, and exploring what they might be pointing toward. I write these in my notepad on my phone!

• Working with a coach! I started Align Wellness to help my clients elevate their life, love, and relationships to reach their highest potential. Accountability helps!

These tools aren’t just about productivity—they’re ways to tune in, notice yourself, and gently guide yourself toward what truly matters.

Tip: Experiment with different tools and see what resonates. Your self-inquiry practice should feel like a magnet, drawing you toward clarity and confidence, not a chore.