I woke up this morning wanting to write that sentence down - to write something, to reflect, and to remember things on this side of the threshold.

This concert has been a long time in the making (2 years, actually, because the first time I was asked, I said no lol,) and at this particular moment - while I’m feeling as disillusioned and disappointed by this industry as I’ve ever felt - I’m finding it to be a weird place to be.

On one hand - the aforementioned sold out-ness! It sold out once, so we added more tickets. It sold out again, and after adding the max amount of tickets allowed, it sold out again. When the guest list was sent to me, I didn’t recognize 95% of the people who had purchased tickets.

I found myself asking; Who are they? Why are they paying money to come see a person they don’t even know, sing some songs? What are they expecting?!

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These are questions that I -oooobviously - do not need to concern myself with. They are unimportant, (and honestly stupid) questions. I get it. But hear me out here; I’m a performer, with c-ptsd, a current track record of 0 jobs booked in the last 2+ years, and a people pleasing tendency I’m still working on kicking out of the proverbial door.

If I had any “Type-A” in me, I would have rehearsed this thing into the ground. Made sure I had every joke, every quip, every note, every lyric, and every story memorized. But, alas, the only Type-A I have in me, is currently coursing through my veins. Whoops!

So back to the other hand (I liked her more,) it’s literally in my DNA to be a little nonchalant. Or like, a lot nonchalant. In Human Design, I’m what’s called a Quad Right, meaning my brain doesn’t work with strategy, fixed ideas, planning, or analysis. I’m receptive, meaning that I will experience a whole hell of a lot more ease and satisfaction when I let my body and mind lean into intuitiveness, imagination, and response in the moment.

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This entire process has basically been one big experiment for me. I decided to lean into trusting my Human Design throughout this whole process. Examples, you ask? Saying yes to being asked to be perform a solo concert? Scared, but ultimately, a full body “yes.” Choosing my set list? Responding to songs that I love, make me feel something, remind me of a story/moment/experience, and curating it to satisfy me. Responding to 5 musicians agreeing to play with me, and then pulling out due to other work or life circumstances? A little stressy! But ultimately, rolled with the punches, and trusted the right people would come together. NEVER ONCE MEETING THE FULL BAND, OR REHEARSING AT ALL BEFORE THE DAY OF THE SHOW? The ultimate relinquishing of any residual hope for control!

I think these things, even separately, would cause some serious cortisol level spikes in…anyone. But you know what? At the end of the day, I love singing. I love performing. I am a professional, and so are all of my musicians. This - figuring it out as I go, responding in real time to what’s in front of me, fucking riffing and improvising on the spot - IS WHAT I DO!

And, like, I’ll obviously confirm this after the fact, but I feel like if there’s a way I *could have* written how this would go…it would have been like this.

Ultimately - no matter what happens - I’m gonna be proud as heeeeeeeell of myself tomorrow. Im gonna look out at that audience - see my sister, my vocal coach of 16 years, my most important mentor, friends, strangers - and leave my heart in that garden. I’m already accepting that I’ll stumble, mess up words, miss this or that note, and worry about how much people did (or did not? lol) enjoy themselves. But that is okay! And natural!! And inevitable!!! I am not a machine, a robot, or syncing my voice through live auto tune. I am a real life person; a woman with fears, desires, hopes, a fairly rational mind, and a whole lot of space for me to be witnessed being in relationship to all of those things at the same time. And for that, I’m already proud.

This industry may be making me feel like it has no place for me, but I’m going to spend tomorrow evening singing to an entire audience, who have not only decided to spend their time with me, but are paying me to sing for them.That is, quite literally, a dream of mine coming true. So there’s no way in hell I’ll let my current-life-career-crisis get in the way of letting this experience overfill every cup I have.

Wish your girl all the broken legs (or luck, I’m not superstitious ¨̮) and plan on coming to the next one.

Because there will be a next one.

love,

- a

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And, as always, this has been written without AI. Because my brain and body registered all of these thoughts and feelings, and then strung together each and every word.

And honestly, I’m pretty fucking thrilled.

My sister asked me a couple weeks ago about my plans for celebrating my birthday. I quickly unfolded my insides instead, and began lamenting about how I finally, truly, saw the signs of my body aging.

For so long, “getting older” has only been something I’ve felt my body communicating to me. Injuries, inflammation, auto-immune issues, the ol’ creaks and cracks…easy enough to push through and deal with silently!

But then 36 was on its way, and I started seeing it; the lines on my face deepening. More and more grays in my curls. The skin on my eyelids - how is there so much more there now?! I started looking at myself in the mirror with a little less kindness, and a lot more understanding as to why so many women do so many things to retain their youth.

But then I started waking up every morning, looking in the mirror, and telling myself “hello.” Telling her that I loved her. And that I thought she was beautiful. I realized that the relationship I’ve built with my insides - my spirit, my heart, my feelings, my understanding of Self - is so deep. I know the layers of her so well, and communication with her is so intrinsic, yet I rarely speak directly to the Self I see in the mirror.

And she needed a little more love.

So instead of wishing for the reflection I was so used to seeing throughout my young life, I’m choosing to witness, get to know, celebrate, and welcome this older, wiser - and frankly, sexier - version of Self I get to see every day now.

Happy birthday to me. And here’s to another cycle of learning, loving, and living as boldly and fiercely as I can.

Love you.

I think I had an epiphany the other day.

A thought so mundane and obvious that I didn’t know whether to be excited or pissed about how long it took me to figure out.

Buckle up, I’m gonna tell you how I got there…

For those of you who weren’t around for the “I’m losing my health insurance, so I’m seeing every doctor and taking every test that is available to me to be safe - oh wow, now I have two possible cancer scares I’m managing? Oh wait, no never mind, everything is okay!” health saga of Summer 2025…You’re now up to speed!

I don’t think it necessarily needs to be said that being uninsured - because I didn’t accumulate enough work weeks through my Union to keep my coverage - sucks. But, I’m “healthy” and I did everything I could to prepare myself for the lapse. The part that is the hardest, though, is the inability to maintain my consistency with one of my most crucial mental health practices - therapy.

I have been in therapy - on and off - since 2018, but weekly since 2024, when I started with my current therapist on the cusp of my 34th birthday. I was still readjusting to a static life in nyc after coming off of performing on the road for the previous 5 years, and all of my “normal” beasts I’d been used to fighting became a lot harder to quell. That, plus the stress of going from gainfully and consistently employed, to inconsistent and limited reoccurring bouts of employment, was - at times - almost too much to bear.

But in hindsight, that may have been a good thing. Follow me here…

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For the first time in my life, I recognized that what I was feeling, and how I was responding to life (albeit understandable,) was out of proportion. I remember thinking to myself, “Amanda…does it actually have to be this hard?” and I finally, truly, believed that it did not. And listen, two things can be true; my circumstances sucked and were hard to navigate, AND I needed more help than I could provide for myself. There was no amount of self-help, meditating, baths, reading, rest, or community that could help in the way that I needed (I fucking tried!!) and while therapy was a tremendous help, I still needed more.

Two things were going to be able to help me - money or medicine. I couldn’t seem to get my hands on the money, but I could on the meds.

I’ve talked about this openly on the Podcast, and I share it candidly in real life when necessary, but I don’t think I’ve ever written it down and shared it so…permanently. So here we fucking go, no take-backsies!! lol?!

In 2024, after experiencing years of undiagnosed symptoms, ya girl got diagnosed with CPTSD and Depression. After a few months of stubbornly trying to pull myself out of the ocean I was drowning in, I finally decided to get on medication. I’m on Lexapro, and I’m a better functioning human being because of it. It’s me and my SSRI’s against the world, baby!!

No, but seriously, it was like an immediate balm. A quieting of the incessant and debilitating ruminations. A release of the death grip my sadness had on me. My desires to be a part of the world, and not spend my days all alone in bed, began to resurface for air. I felt an easing up of the shame, grief, and negative lens that had quietly taken over the way I saw everything. See..that’s what my particular flavor of depression does; it takes anything good in my life and picks it apart, piece by piece, until I’ve stripped myself, and all of my accomplishments, of any meaning. I see no good, no positive outcome, no silver lining. And if you know me, THAT’S LIKE MY WHOLE THING!!

I think what made all of this even sadder, was that I was too embarrassed, too proud, and too ashamed to ask for help. For so long. I was so vehemently against taking medication (hello, stigma!) and was determined to “fix” myself through my own force of will. I don’t know exactly what switch turned off or on inside of me, but I’m so grateful that two years ago I finally recognized that experiencing life, in fact, did not need to be that hard. That nothing was wrong with me because I needed more help than my sheer will and determination could provide.

So why am I telling you all of this? Oof. Honestly, I’ve been asking myself that the entire time I’ve been writing this. Perhaps it is…um…not that smart to share this much information on the internet (?!) but I feel this is important, and I want to share, more than I want to hide. AND THERE WAS A POINT TO ALL OF THIS!! Ah, yes…health Insurance, losing it, and still trying to continue with my therapist…

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When I no longer had access to my health insurance coverage, I couldn’t see my therapist at the weekly frequency I had been used to. So I went down to twice a month. That frequency then became unattainable, so I scaled back even further. Once every month. Then once every 6 weeks. And that was about the time we both realized that wasn’t sufficient, and I’d need to find another alternative to getting back on a weekly schedule.

So I reached out to the Entertainment Community Fund - a national nonprofit human services organization for all performing arts and entertainment professionals - and discussed possible options for receiving mental health care. It was a lovely, very comforting call, but it still left me feeling…um…emotional.

So I took myself on a little walk, sat on a park bench on a beautiful 70º day, and wrote this in my journal;

“…It’s just so funny to me, that even on days when I’m experiencing [emotional] regularity, that [my tears] are still so quick to surface when I’m witnessed and asked to share about my experiences. There were moments when he was simply reflecting things back to me, and my tears were just RIGHT THERE. THEY’RE ALWAYS RIGHT THERE. And I don’t know whether to be held by that, to be grateful for it, and celebrate that my access to them lives within me all the time, or if I should be frustrated, disappointed, and angry that no matter what I do to help myself, no matter how much better I feel I’m doing, no matter how much work I’ve done…that it’s all still right there. Will it always be this way?

I’d like to believe that it will not. That my capacity to heal, to shift, to change, will finally outweigh the trauma that has made such a lasting mark. I know those “capital T-Traumas” won’t disappear, that my capacity just grows to be able to hold it, but can’t it stop being so…loud?

Or, perhaps this is just another example of my being too hard on myself. Me, responding in real time to things that make me hurt, or ways I express my grief, isn’t a fault. It’s not something that needs to be fixed. I don’t want to be another reason that my experience, and my emotional response to it, is shamed into being quiet. I don’t want to be another reason that it can’t be felt, navigated, expressed, or allowed to exist. Am I just being my own - super sneaky - version of someone telling me my feelings are “too big?” I refuse! I want to allow myself to be fully expressive and seen in my emotional experiences.

I’M NOT TOO MUCH. I’M NOT TOO SAD. MY FEELINGS ARE BIG AND THAT’S OKAY. MY EMOTIONAL RESPONSE WANTS TO BE VALIDATED. HELD. SEEN. SUPPORTED. I CAN DO THESE THINGS FOR MYSELF NOW!!

I don’t want to police my own feelings anymore, so I wont.”

And that’s when I started to laugh. How had it taken me this long to make this connection? To realize that I was treating myself - with incredible precision - in exact opposition to what I desire and hope for in my relationships? That this behavior, which had been learned through experience, but was being practiced - incessantly - by me, and that I was the one who was perpetuating destructive patterns of behavior I was taught. I was the one who was continuing to diminish, quiet, and shame my most authentic expressions of Self.

I’ve had a few, truly glorious “a-ha!” moments over the last 6 years of my healing experience, but this one felt like the needle in the haystack I didn’t know I was searching for. And for that, I am grateful. To be able to recognize, even in my moments, days, weeks, or months of heaviness, that the possibility of understanding myself - and the ways I have learned to protect her - can be untethered. Grips can be loosened. Thoughts can be shifted. Beliefs can be altered. Patterns can be changed.

It’s slow, it’s boring, it’s uncomfortable, IT’S FUCKING ANNOYING, and sometimes it’s just hard (and feels almost impossible,) but god damn…committing to figuring yourself out, getting stuck and finding your way out, experimenting and failing, asking for help when you need it, letting yourself actually receive it, and always, always getting back on the horse…it’s worth it. You’re worth it.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. If you found it helpful, or you just enjoyed reading it, I’d really like to know. Please comment, like, or share it with someone you feel it would resonate with.

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If the way I share resonates with you, and you are looking for alternative modalities to explore your own healing, I offer Human Design and Reiki sessions through my website. You can find those by clicking here.

As always, thank you for being here.

Love,

A

I am not a mental health professional. I share my experiences, what I know, what I think, what I try, and I do it from my heart. If you are in need of professional help, the below options may be great places to start;

• call 988 - the national mental health hotline

• https://entertainmentcommunity.org/

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What I didn’t realize - until I was discussing them with my therapist - was that I didn’t write a single thing that had to do with my career, or my success within it, on that list.

Did I forget? Did I not care? Have I given up on my dream, unable to recognize it yet? Do I even have a dream?

I’ve been sitting with these questions for a bit, and here’s what I’ve discovered.

I’ve spent most of my life - at least since the age of 17 - dreaming of performing on Broadway.

When I was in high school, constantly being asked and pressured to decide where I wanted to go to college, what I wanted to do, what I wanted to become, and what I wanted my identity to be stamped in permanent ink with…I had no fucking clue. To me, there didn’t seem to be anything that felt “good enough,” “important enough,” or seemed serious enough to consider committing to for the rest of my life. Why we tell teenagers to map out the rest of their entire lives, when their frontal lobes haven’t even fully developed, is beyond me, but alas…we do.

I had spent my childhood performing. I was an ice skater, a dancer, and a gymnast. I had dedicated basically all of the hours of the day I was outside of elementary school to these extracurriculars, and if there was an opportunity to be on a stage, take an extra class, or be under the lights…I was taking it. Performing - leaving Amanda in the wings and becoming a new character - was my absolute favorite feeling. But how could I make that into a career? I never heard this identity - performer - referenced with any sort of reverence or importance outside of celebrity, and as the decision about what I was going to do with my life grew nearer, I was becoming less and less confident about who I wanted to be.

It wasn’t until I was 17, in my Junior year of high school, when my English teacher (who was the head of the drama department, obviously) made me audition for the Spring musical. It was the first musical I had ever auditioned for, and I got the lead. Suddenly, my path unveiled itself, and I knew that Musical Theater was what I wanted to pursue. It was the perfect mix of all the things I loved, studied, practiced, and believed I was naturally pretty good at - dancing, singing, and acting.

Let me be clear, though. I chose that path because it was the path of least resistance. “Broadway” was a thing people understood. They looked at it as a “real job.” A far-fetched one, sure, but at least I could answer the incessant questions about what I was going to do with my life in a way people would accept as a sufficient answer.

I tell you all of that because I think it’s helpful context.

In 2024, that dream finally came to fruition when I made my Broadway debut in the Original Broadway Cast of Tammy Faye. In case you’re also bad at math, I’ll make it easy; THAT’S 17 YEARS OF CHASING THAT SINGULAR DREAM. HALF OF MY LIFE.

So when the show closed (because it absolutely boooooombed) after only 29 performances, I was…um…disappointed? Sad? Fucking pissed? Yeah, a nice mix of all of those. I had spent half of my life, with this one singular goal to accomplish, and I did it. YAY. Then it failed immediately. BOO.

I already hear you thinking over there. Something along the lines of, “Amanda, it was just one show! You’ll get another one! Keep going! *The Dream* is still alive!” And yes, you’re correct! This is the way the world, and the business of Broadway works. I’d even been told, by so many people in the industry, that “once you get that first one, the doors will open!” and I was optimistic. I could take the L, and move along.

But then nothing.

Little to no auditions. The ones I did have, I couldn’t even get through the initial dance calls, just cut immediately. No, after no, after no, after no, after no. It was a shut-out like I’d never experienced before. The kind of 180º that makes you look up to the sky and ask out loud to whatever unknowable entity that may exist, “am I supposed to be doing this? If not, can you take away my love for, and desire to continue to do it, please?!”

While I may not have secured long term or undeniable financially stabilizing work, I would be remiss not to share the opportunities that did present themselves to me throughout 2025, though - all of which found me through my own friends and colleagues. No auditions, just invitations to collaborate; a music video with Frankie Grande, adjudication at dance competitions throughout the US, workshops for new shows, working as Associate Intimacy Director, teaching and choreography opportunities, and singing in my very first concert in New York City at the 92NY.

I also started taking myself more seriously as a healer and practitioner. I got my Reiki I and Reiki II certifications, started supporting more people through Human Design, and started a Podcast with my friend . So when Julia asked me what my intentions for 2026 were, this my gut response;

1. My full acceptance, embodiment, and practice as a full-time healer.

2. Finish my Somatic Trauma Therapy Certification through The Embody Lab

3. Consistency; If I can’t get it in my career, I can at least provide it to myself through my Substack, podcast, and other writing.

4. Devotion. My word for 2026.

5. Growth for what Julia and I are creating with DEEPER by DESIGN.

When I realized that I hadn’t referenced any intention that was directed towards my career, and in fact had only kind of snubbed it (#3 lol,) I worried. Had my fire gone out? Had I turned my back on it, because it felt like it had turned its back on me? Did I not want this anymore? Had I given up? Did that entity in the sky finally respond, and take away my desire and love for it? I didn’t think so, but maybe it had? Then just the other day, after a particularly lengthy conversation with Julia about recent auditions and potential jobs I would and wouldn’t want, she only had one follow up question;

Ouch. I felt my stomach fall into my ass for the briefest moment. Of course I did, right?

Perhaps the way I talk about this industry and my career can beg the question if I even like it, but I’ve realized something about all of this, and it actually makes me quite proud.

I love being a musical theater performer and a creative artist. I may not enjoy many parts of the experience of being a part of this industry, but the way I engage with it, the work I am asked to perform, and the opportunities I say yes to, are in alignment with me, my values, my morals, and the director of my life: my gut response.

This industry operates in a way that almost requires you to negate your own intuition and desires. The decisions it asks you to make to “climb the ladder,” “put in your time,” and “pay your dues,” more often than not require you to self-sacrifice and compromise, rationalize irrational behavior, expectations, and requirements, work under unhealthy and hazardous conditions, push past your own physical and mental limits, and abandon your truest and clearest desires.

We’re commodities that can be replaced at any moment, and at the end of the day, we’d rather have a job than no job. Right?

No. I would not. I’d rather have my time, my freedom, and the ability to focus on the other parts of myself that I wish to flourish, while I wait for the correct, aligned, and satisfying opportunities. Maybe that sounds absolutely fucking bonkers, maybe it IS absolutely fucking bonkers, but it doesn’t feel that way to me. I’m not so out of touch with reality that I can’t admit that it’s maybe not the best way to financially plan my future, or my present for that matter, but I am at the point in my relationship to my Human Design - and therefore, the subsequent ways in which I respond to the world - that my trust is greater than my fear.

I don’t want to talk myself into something that I have been offered. If my response to an opportunity or invitation produces anxiety, frustration, confusion, or just a flat out no, the answer is simple - I won’t be doing that. Throughout years of trial and error, connecting to my Human Design, listening and responding to its cues, and experiencing the various outcomes when I have listened to my Gut (and when I have ignored it,) I now know that my “yes” is exciting. It’s freeing, expansive, and it makes me feel good. And the people, opportunities, and experiences that have produced the same feelings, are the entirety of the list of work that I was a part of in 2025. I may want more of it, but I’m not willing to compromise my satisfaction and overall wellbeing just for more. If anything, I am grateful for this realization and commitment, because it has allowed (forced? lol) me to step more fully into my identity as a healing practitioner. I have shown up for myself, and my clients, in ways I was too afraid to when I had the safety net of an eight shows a week paycheck.

So yes - I love being a Broadway musical theater performer. It’s something I’d like to experience again, and again, and again. AND I love deepening into my identities outside of it. I love getting so in touch and in tune with my deepest desires - most of which are beyond my mental capacity for recognition - that I feel fulfilled with or without it. I love that I am so committed to only saying yes to the correct opportunities, that it only emboldens my trust that they will come.

This post in and of itself is a symbol of that trust. These words could make me look real fucking dumb if those opportunities never come, but I’d rather write and share them with you, than keep them hidden inside of me. Because maybe they’ll help. Maybe they’ll embolden you to listen to your intuition. Maybe they’ll help you follow through on something that doesn’t make sense, but you know is right. And I’d much rather take the risk.

Wouldn’t you?

Thank you for reading. It would mean so much to me if you liked, shared, left a comment of a reflection, or subscribed.

If you’re interested in learning more about your Human Design, and learning from me feels correct for you, I’d love to hear from you. You can find my current offerings here, and my inbox is always open.

Sending love,

A

Banner artwork: Lake George Reflection by Georgia O'Keeffe

Deeper Than Shallow

EP 04: Vision Quest

Welcome Back to DEEPER by DESIGN …

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8 months ago · 4 likes · Julia Sparkman and Amanda Clement

While, sure, it made sense to center this type of episode around the calendar new year, we don’t necessarily see the threshold we collectively walk through between the years as *our* New Year. We were more so inclined to record this episode because we’re both invested in using this time to center deep rest, shed the last bits of our current iterations of Self, and to plant the seeds for what we want to align with - as our truest Selves - come our energetic New Year.

Before we recorded this episode, I sat - for 13 nights - in a sacred ritual, from the Solstice to the 2nd of January.

Shared lovingly by , the ritual asked you to write down 13 intentions. 13 desires. 13 declarations - as I began to call them - that you were calling in for the new year. Each written out on their own sheet of paper, as if you already had them. One folded piece of paper, burnt on each of the 12 nights, until you were left with 1. 12 for Spirit to take care of, and 1 for you to focus on and take responsibility for in 2026.

Each night - at sundown - I would sit at my altar, light my candle, and begin with a Reiki healing. I wanted my body - my conscious and subconscious parts - to feel safe, present, and held. And I wanted to douse my declarations in this healing energy, too. To humbly ask Spirit, my guides, and the Universe, to know the truest essence of these declarations, and guide me into the most aligned version of what I was desiring. After my Reiki and meditation, I would hold my declarations in my hands, shake them up, and ask for the one that was meant to be given over to Spirit, to offer itself up. I would then light it, watch it burn, thank Spirit as I saw its smoke rise and dissipate, and blow my candle out.

I had written some lofty declarations on these 13 pieces of paper. Desires relating to my finances, work, love, friendships, service, health, home, and my connection to the magic of life itself. Wrapping up 2025, and the absolute garbage shit the year had brought (not all bad, but good god it was an uphill battle,) I definitely felt a sense of the weight of my declarations. These were all things that I’d really need to put in the work for, open myself up to - mostly fear, embarrassment, and failure - and employ some serious nervous system regulation practices in order to accomplish. I was nervous, but ready for whatever declaration and intention was meant to be mine to work on.

On the 13th night, as I opened up my last folded piece of paper, my body let go and I just…cried.

“Magic is a part of my daily experience. I see it. I feel it. I know it. I am it.”

I wasn’t being asked to do anything more than recognize, allow, practice, and bask in the magic that IS my life. This ritual literally said, “hey girl…you focus on listening, receiving, practicing, noticing, and being here now. We got the rest.” To say that I felt the aforementioned weight fall of my shoulders, would be a massive understatement.

Don’t get me wrong here, though. I don’t think this ritual allows me to throw my hands up to the responsibility of my life. I know that all of these dreams, desires, and accomplishments I envision myself checking off, require my persistence, attention, energy, and conscious co-creative partnership with the Universe. However, I do trust that the thing I need to focus my persistence, attention, energy, and conscious effort towards - every single day - is the Magic. To me, this means I have to submit to Trust, on the hardest days. It means I have to prioritize my rest, my recovery, my body’s capacity to receive, hold, and heal. It means I have to trust the ways I’m feeling, the ways my body communicates, and the ways I truly want to move through life, especially when those are in direct conflict with the logical, “mentally sound,” and strategic ways our culture forces us to believe are the only ways we can succeed.

As I arrive at this point, you may be wondering, “Amanda…what does this have to do with your dreams changing?” And to that I say, good question, friend!

If you listen to the linked episode above, you’ll hear that I called in 5 things for 2026. You’ll have to listen to the episode for the specifics, but what I didn’t realize until days later (and only while discussing it with my therapist, lol) was that I didn’t write a single thing that had to do with my career or my success within it. I was shocked.

Did I forget? Did I not care? Have I given up on my dream, but didn’t recognize it yet? Do I even have a dream?

We’ll find out in A New Meaning to an Old Adage, pt 2.

In the meantime, what shedding have you experienced as of late? How are you feeling as we start to plant ourselves firmly in 2026? Or, just share a word that holds the energy you’ve been focusing on lately. I’d love to hear it.

Love you.

- A

For those who are interested in working with me, I’ve recently updated my Human Design and Reiki offerings. Click here to learn more about them and click here to book when you’re ready.

I call it “Presence Practice,” and I usually share them when I’m in my most contemplative state - in the bath.

They’re short writings. Mostly reflections or questions I’m thinking about. It’s a dialogue, and openness of participation, into my own rest, recovery, and grounding practices. Usually rooted in something I’ve learned, or are trying to notice, through my connection with my own Human Design. They started because I was getting the same comments and questions from friends, colleagues, and peers; I had a natural state of calm and grounded-ness about me…how?

So…Presence Practice was created.

A while ago, I had the thought that I should share them here, as I share them on my Instagram stories. I thought that - maybe, just maybe - they’d enjoy having a place to live and breathe a little longer.

So here’s your first Presence Practice, friends. I’ll be sending these little, bite-sized musings more frequently. I hope you enjoy seeing a little more of me in your inbox.

There was a New Moon in Sagittarius tonight.

I didn’t think I really did much to welcome this one in, but as I’m reflecting on my day, it was one of the more grounded, and physically present, days I’ve had in a minute.

I woke up and stripped my entire bed - including mattress pad! - and washed them all. I had some serious night sweats last night - TMI? lol - so I figured it would be nice.

I journaled while I had my coffee.

I signed up for acupuncture late last night (I tweaked my back cleaning out a closet yesterday, whoops) and I received that this afternoon.

Grocery shopped.

Tidied up my room, and made a make-shift altar. I wanted a specific place to sit, meditate, and have my Human Design and other healing books, out to be seen purposefully. Is it an old box, covered in colorful scarves to hide? Yes. But do the places we sit at to rest and practice our presence have to be perfect? No.

And then I got in the bath, listened to a meditation and journaled a bit on the app (my favorite astrology app, and they’re running a 50% off sale right now!) and then wrote this.

I guess all that to say...it was a nice reminder - to my Self - that showing up for yourself in meaningful ways doesn’t have to be some big, grandiose thing. It can be! And if that’s it for you - hell yeah, baby. But if you’re struggling to find ways to feel more connected to yourself, I hope this reminds you that you can start small.

Til next time.

P.S. I started a new podcast with my friend , and if you haven’t been able to catch it yet, click here!

P.P.S. I also write these Presence Practices, along with a short, but deeply insightful, synthesis of your personal Human Design chart. Great gifts for people you love - if you’re still checking off those lists - or for yourself! You can grab one here

To get you up to speed quickly - if you’re unfamiliar - I’m currently in rehearsals for a concert. It’s a Lyrics and Lyricists concert at the 92NY on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. They do a few of these every year; usually a handful of singers, standing behind lecterns, house lights at 100%, singing some well-known songs of whatever musician/songwriter they’re celebrating.

The one I am in is so much more than that. It is a full-blown production; a full band, costumes, lights, props, visual projections, choreography, and the artist himself…Paul Williams. Composer, singer, songwriter, actor, Oscar and multiple Grammy award winner. No stone has gone unturned.

I suppose when the writer and director of the concert is none other than two-time Tony Award winner, Christian Borle - and co-written with and choreographed by his wife, Skye Mattox - you couldn’t possibly expect this thing to be anything other than the most beautiful, celebratory, and revelatory Lyrics and Lyricists concert the 92NY has ever seen.

So cut to me, slightly losing my nerve, when the reality of singing a bunch of these songs solo hit me this week. I can already hear you, “but Amanda…this is what you do! How could you be nervous about performing?!” BITCH (not derogatory!) LET ME TELL YOU.

There is an enormous amount of space between performing in an ensemble, and standing on a stage just…belting out a song by yourself. It’s a completely different level of exposed. Playing a character, “being in the background,” being supported by all of the other bodies on a stage…there’s just a natural sense of security, of being able to blend in, of being potentially forgotten or completely unseen by some audience members. There is a comfort that is so present for me in an ensemble.

But I have never just been me, singing songs on a stage, alone. No character, no objective, no other “person” to step into, to become, to hide in. And no help from anyone else. It’s just me, in a spotlight, singing some of the most iconic and well-known songs from the American songbook. It’s fucking scary, and the nerves have been getting the better of me. So much so, that I hadn’t gotten all the words to a single song to come out of my mouth correctly until today! lol.

Then, at almost the final hour, they wanted to add a new song and I’m told that they’d like me to sing it. I’m elated, deeply honored to be given another opportunity to sing Paul’s music, and you guessed it…scared! Then I overhear him telling someone it’s his favorite song. My mouth gets a little drier, my eyes a little wetter - he’s getting into the details of why it’s his favorite, but I won’t share his stories : ) - and the pressure rises in my body.

I cannot fuck this up.

This pressure to deliver isn’t new. I grew up feeling like making mistakes - especially in my artistic endeavors - was a personal fault. Like if I had just spent more time practicing, pushed myself a little bit harder, sacrificed a little bit more of myself in some way, that I could have gotten “it perfect.” And I think that because this experience is stretching me in ways I haven’t ever been stretched before, I’ve been struggling to trust that I can match the expectations I have for myself.

IT’S BULLSHIT, I know. I don’t believe it, but I certainly feel it.

This is where the thought of always being able to choose to be a beginner is helping. It’s helped me get grounded, present, and remember why I fucking love being a performer so much in the first place. It has helped me be forgiving after making mistakes. It has brought me back to being kind and patient with myself. It has helped me know when to buckle down and practice, and when to rest. It has offered me a sense of wonder and awe throughout the process. It has been the reminder to connect to my Self, the Center Stage mark I’m standing on, the earth beneath my feet, and my breathe. And that I - ultimately - have nothing to prove. I only need to feel good, and have fun while I’m doing it.

All that to say…in case you happen to be in NYC, and want to indulge in a little bit of this fun with us, you have three chances;

• Saturday, December 6th at 5:00pm

• Sunday, December 7th at 2:00pm

• Monday, December 8th at 7:30pm

Tickets can be found here

I believe we have something really special here, and I’d love to share it with you.

Til next time -

-A

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I know it may be a little unlike what I normally share, and perhaps you were expecting some other kind of update, but I felt compelled to write this experience down and share - with great relief - that all findings were benign, and I do not have breast cancer. Phew. But holy shit, what a ride this last month has been. Let’s take it from the top…

Last month, I had my yearly gynecological appointment. Routine stuff - as it always is - the ol’ Pap Smear, STD/STI screenings, yapping with my doctor (she’s young, down to earth, and just generally smart and cool,) and for some reason, I asked her what the probability may be of getting an early detection mammogram. It’s recommended that women get them after 40, but I’ve been hearing - with more alarming frequency - of women getting early breast cancer diagnoses, and I figured why not ask. “What’s the harm?” I thought.

She brought up some chart on her computer, asked me some questions, and it determined I qualified for …

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A few weeks ago I started sharing what I called my “Presence Practice” on my Instagram Stories. I felt pulled to share these moments of grounding, intention, and purposeful rest and recovery, because I was becoming increasingly aware that this was a super power of mine. Friends, colleagues, and even newly introduced people, were sharing how I was contributing to their wellbeing, Self-presence, and newly realized desire for more connection to their Self.

So…Presence Practice was created.

I’ve been sharing photos with a little dialogue of where I am at that moment - physically, mentally, spiritually - and inviting whoever may see these 24 hour stories, to create a little Presence for themselves, too. Reminders, if you will, to connect with one’s Self.

I think my favorite part about Instagram is the 24 hour story. I am my most authentic there, and I feel as though it creates the best opening for dialogue and continuations of thought in my one-on-one DM conversations that they inspire. How…

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I’m supposed to be at work, no? On stage, performing in my sick-ass costumes, dancing around, acting with the best of the best, and singing the songs Sir Elton John wrote…aren’t I?

For those who don’t know - this past September I started rehearsals for my (long awaited and laboriously fought for) Broadway Debut in Tammy Faye. A new musical - transferring from London with critical acclaim - with music by Sir Elton himself. It was my dream come true.

But perhaps I should have been more specific in my dream making. I guess I left out the part where I wanted it to run for a long time. Like, at least the year long contract I signed, but way longer would have also been nice! But no - we ran for a grand total of 29 performances. Lesson learned - I really gotta get specific next time.

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Okay, let’s get to it…

I realized at about 5pm today that it was my 11th anniversary of moving to new york city. I saw the date on the iCal icon on my computer, thought “hmm, something feels familiar here,” and then immediately turned my wrist around to look at my tattoo - “II.V.XIII"

I had to double check (count in my head like a small child!) but there it was. The reminder, the event, the celebration that I permanently inked on my body to always serve as my reminder. The reminder, you ask? That I took a chance. That I truste…

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It’s time to change my instagram bio. 

I’m no longer “picking up chairs in @hamiltonmusical” so why does it say that I do? It’s been 3 months since I put on those costumes, sang those songs, or twirled those chairs over my head. Amanda…It’s time to let it go.

Even though this may sound so silly, I’ve been thinking about it since the end of August. I remember a dear friend of mine - who also happens to be one of my favorite astrologers - asking me if I was going to change this bio of mine BACK ON AUGUST 29th. I remember because he was in town from SF, the Moon was about to be full in Pisces, and it was an absolutely perfect time to sit, reflect, and let go of this identity that I was shedding. Pisces is my natal Moon sign, and it’s in my 10th house (which means it gove…

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I have this feeling that if I don’t force myself to sit down and get these half-contemplated thoughts and barely-felt feelings out of my body, they will bury themselves inside me. My irreverence will somehow allow them to move into their forever homes, hidden in the cracks and crevices that the experiences of these years have chiseled out of me. 

So here I am. Fingers on the keys, ready to just let ‘er rip. 

But I hesitate to begin because I don’t really know where to start. 

The beginning? It’s hard to talk about the person I was at 28. There are so many things that haven’t seen the outside of my mind, been written outside of a journal, or spoken about outside of the comfort and trust of friends and family. But they’re a part of this story. Do I start there?

Or do I start at the end? Attempt to tie all the pieces together from hindsight? It’s easier to pretend that every decision, every choice, every redirection was a little more “…

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I hit publish on this thing and then got cold feet. The same ol’ fears crept back in after my tiny little internet blog debut, and it’s taken me almost a month to find the courage to write down what I’ve been thinking about. It’s funny - I decided I wanted to have this space to put down my thoughts, commit to sharing a fuller, more vulnerable version of myself - but the realization that what’s required for that is a lot more openness and clarity about the actual comings and goings of my life, somehow, surprised me? Weird.

Putting proverbial pen to paper to talk about the happenings in my life, during the actual moments I’m navigating them, feels deeply incongruous to how I normally let others witness my life. Hell, it’s incongruous to how I even allow myself to experience my own feelings. Ever since I can remember, my answer to others questioning me about m…

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You’re either here because you’re my mom, dad, or sister and I’ve already subscribed you (a fun perk of being related!,) or because you follow me on IG and you’re curious.

Either way - Welcome.

Today is my 33rd birthday, and without much preparation or thought, I’ve decided to finally publish this space I’ve created for myself. For my thoughts. For my feelings. For my heart. For my soul. For my experience of them all. A space that I have been wanting to invest my time and energy into, but have left sitting blank. A space that doesn’t have a word count limit. A space - that feels like a personal journal - but I hope turns into a community conversation.

Every time I have wanted to start, all I see is this blinking cursor. This ominous - yet totally innocuous - starting line. What do I have to say? Why do I feel like I should share it? Why should anyone care about it? What if…

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