0 comments on “This is a massive love/hate for me…”

This is a massive love/hate for me…

As you know, I work with women who are smart, educated, big hearted and want to make an impact in a positive way in the world. 

I love it. 

I’ve just gotten off ZOOM after a session with my coach/mentor. 

I love it…..and I hate it. 

I love it because I get to see blind spots, learn more about myself, feel supported, know someone is on my team and get to explore the truth of stuff. 

But I hate it because it brings to the surface a whole lot of uncomfortable feelings. It means I have to action that might trigger fear and self judgement or being rejected. Urgh. Yuk!

And humans (and I am very human) tend to not like discomfort.

Hence why we have problems with over half the western world being overweight by numbing out with food. Why alcohol is consumed to intoxicating amounts frequently. Why people gossip. Why we spend too much time on social media. Why we isolate ourselves. 

And I hate feeling uncomfortable. I do. 

We are not fans of discomfort, so I know I am not the only one. 

And yet, it is part of being human. 

The more I honour discomfort as being just a part of humaning, the more brave I am noticing I become. 

The more I walk through it instead of avoiding it, the more empowered I feel. 

The more I accept that part of humaning is to be supported, the more powerful I feel. 

I use the word AND a lot on my coaching sessions….and in my life! 

I feel so uncomfortable and afraid of the outcome AND I am willing to be supported to move through it. 

I don’t like confrontation or contributing to the discomfort of others AND I am committed to speaking my truth. 

I want to hide away from the world at times AND I want to make a massive impact. 

I don’t enjoy the feelings of having to confront my unsupportive beliefs AND I love the freedom of clarity. 

I hate working with a coach AND I love it. 

We are allowed to experience a full range of emotions, and feelings. We are human. 

But we are not meant to do it alone. 

Things in my life really began to change once I accepted that even though I know a shit tonne and have qualifications in a variety of areas, UNTIL I was willing to be seen and heard and supported, things wouldn’t really gain momentum. 

I am committed to be supported. 

I have to be, because my mission in the world is to support. 

And I can’t do what I am not willing to receive! 

Is there an area in your life you are loving and hating right now? 

Is there an area you are not willing to receive in? 

How are you at accepting support? 

If you want to make some changes, you have to feel some discomfort AND you will be okay. 

We got you

Until next we meet, keep being brave, keep showing up and keep sharing imperfect you.

Big love

PS. I offer 3, 4 and 6 month support packages. These are a great gateway to group mentor support too. All the deets are in the ‘offerings’ link. xx

0 comments on “5 Ways Criticism is Holding You Back”

5 Ways Criticism is Holding You Back

Criticism. Argh. Right? Have you noticed how much of it is in the world?

We hate being at the receiving end of it. And yet, there is this strange thing I have noticed about humans….they love participating in it! Tell me if I am wrong here!

Recently I noticed that I wanted to be in the space for more criticism to come to me. Not to hurt me, but to grow me. To prove that I am not afraid of words outside of myself. And I certainly wasn’t afraid of shiz slingers!

0 comments on “Addicted? Arm raised….”

Addicted? Arm raised….

83 days of no booze and 7 days of no Facebook. Talk about detox central. No small things for this little boozing social media mouse!

I’ve done all manner of detoxes when my body has asked for it. But to date, I have never done the combo of alcohol and social media.

And so it begins.

But why? Why did I even think this was necessary?

The older I get the more in tune I get with my body. The more I notice things that feel like freedom and light and expansive and the more I notice things that make me feel anxious, overwhelmed and contracted.

I was scrolling through Facebook recently and felt like I had entered a foreign land.

Comparison-ville. Green. Lush. Filtered.

0 comments on “This One is for the Transitionaries…”

This One is for the Transitionaries…

I don’t know about you, but I have been feeling this weird ‘transitionary’ kind of vibe in the air.

I’m not sure if it the folks that I am speaking to, or the stuff I am reading on line, or if I am just tuned into how me and my hubby are feeling at the moment.

Perhaps it is spring, or the moon, or the butterfly flapping in Brazil. Oooo, that butterfly thing again..#insidejokeforsoulcollectives

Whatever it is, this is what I am feeling. And from years of doing this human thing, I have come to see if I am feeling it, then at least one other is too.

And perhaps it is you.

If it is you, then this is for you.

0 comments on “I Know You Weren’t Expecting This….”

I Know You Weren’t Expecting This….

You had the best plans for this year right?

The beginning of the year you set out with all these dreams of “This year..this is my year”.

You felt optimistic. You felt inspired. You had had some things that didn’t go your way the last few years, and you felt like everything you had been through was leading you to this point. This moment. Your moment. Life was going to change directions.

You could all but hear the Angels singing their chorus in celebration of you.

Air fist-pump.

Game on girl. You got this.

You did you vision boards. You did your year planner. You declare it on social media. “This is going to be a frickin’ great year”. And you believe it. You completely consume yourself with dreams of how it is going to go.

It’s chock a block filled with the stuff you love.

You don’t action anything until February because you know from past experience that January is just a right off.

So everything is #February.

The next thing. The next adventure. The next. The next.

February comes and goes.

Now it is #March. And then you get injured. Debilitated. In excruciating pain. And so all your focus is on getting through each day. Each fucking painful day.

But your plans? Your perfect plans. What happens to them?

“It’s okay”, you say to yourself, “You can still make it, the year is long”.

So you stay focussed on all the stuff you love. All the stuff you want to do.

Then things take a turn and you are in so much pain that you cannot see of be anything other than the person in so much pain. White hot pain. Pain so intense that you just need to escape it.

Bowen therapy. Acupuncture. Naturopathy. Osteo. Chiro. Physio. Kahuna. But the pain persists. Cold light therapy. Psychology. Medication. Pain. Escalating. Stronger medication. Constipation. Mind fuck.

Welcome to the last resort. Surgery.

Spinal surgery no less. The spine where all that important stuff lies. In there. Deep.

You are so afraid of the outcome..more afraid than you have been before…but you are so desperate to relieve the pain that you are willing to put your entire well being in the hands of someone else you hope to fuck has a decidedly impressive skill in this operating on spine department.

You have the operation.

In the recovery room, you wake crying and not because you see a big fish staring at you from the wall. The nurse asks why you are crying, to which you say, “I made it out alive…I thought I was going to die”.

You are grateful that the universe didn’t respond to your call to “End this pain, I don’t care if it is my life that ends”.

You notice that that white hot pain has disappeared. That you don’t have that psychosis inducing distraction ripping through your body.

And you exhale.

And recovery begins.

And for a moment you look at the rest of the year. “The year is long, there is still time”.

As you prepare to leave the hospital you begin dreaming about what to do when you fully recover. What adventures. What creations.

And then as you are about to leave, you hear your child is really unwell.

“Must be gastro”, you say.

Few days later you realise that this isn’t gastro when finally your baby isolates the pain to the lower part of her abdomen. And because you can’t drive you call your husband to take your girl to the same hospital that you have just left.

You feel pain again! This time the pain feels different. It is a deep gut pain. A deeper heart pain. Your baby. Your child is in pain now. This is a new pain that overtakes your body. And for a split second you wish you could take all your pain back so you r baby doesn’t have to feel that pain.

In a few hours she would follow your hospital bed wheel marks and she will be looking around a sterile room with a bunch of unfamiliar faces looking at her. Asking the same questions over and over and over.

You’ve just had spinal surgery, so you can’t sit. You have to stand until you can’t stand anymore and then you have to go and lay down.

Wherever you can.

Including the floor of the hospital.

You wait.

Laying on the floor of the waiting room. You’re not alone and you think ‘thank fuck for that or I would be a risk to myself”.

2 hours pass. Your gut is flipping with fear. Anxiety takes it’s grip and your mind starts to envisage all of the worst case scenarios. And they are bad. All of them.

Finally, on the brink of charging the operating theatre to ask ‘what the fuck”? and make sure they are doing everything right, he appears.

The guy who may have just saved your child. Restored them at the very least.

He shows you all the pictures he has taken of inside your baby. These pictures are not worthy of any wellness magazine. More like the first screen shot of a horror film.

It’s messy in there.

But she made it through and you exhale and cry.

The best days are still ahead. You know this.

You battle to visit your baby girl because you aren’t able to drive because of your back. It is still healing from surgery. You feel helpless. You feel challenged. You feel exhausted. But you carry on.

Your family bumbles along and you are supported by earth angels who drive you around, make meals for you and your family to eat. Clearly someone has noticed how much weight you have put on through all of this stuff and you even get a Weight Watchers Risotto in the mix. Once you would have cared. Now you just laugh.

You weren’t to know, but the next wave was building and was about to hit your family again.

That same bubba girl begins to deteriorate again.

It’s a blur and before you all know it you are back at that same hospital.

“I’ve reviewed the ultrasound and she has 2 abscesses that need to be drained”.

“More surgery?” you all sing.


And the wheels turn again.

The bed moves into the sterility.

The fear isn’t as fierce. You worry that you aren’t more afraid. You worry you should be more scared.

You exhale and surrender. You trust.

The waiting beings. Again.

You have a room to lay down in and wait this time. So no laying on the ground in the waiting room.

It’s just you and your rock. Your support person. The person that you spent years not really allowing to step up and be supportive of you, because you were so used to be the strong one. The independent one.

And you both wait. Waiting again for the face of the doctor and this time hoping the images he takes aren’t as gruesome.

You talk about your other bubba’s and take a moment to be grateful for how amazing they are as well. Pulling together and supporting their sister.

You reflect on how gutsy your kids are. Their individual knock downs and their stand ups. Their emotional whacks and their strength and vulnerability.

You both realise how blessed you are and wonder how you got so lucky.

The call comes to visit your girl in the recovery room. No one else is there except your baby and the nurses attending to her. Taking her temperature. Feeding her lemonade ice block. She’s crying. She’s in pain. You desperately want to take that pain again.

You feel bad for ever complaining about your own pain. It seems so small in comparison to seeing your baby in pain. You hold the tears back with all of your might. Tears that for the last 4 months you have just let flow.

But you hold them. For her. She has seen you cry so many times now. And you hold it. Just. Knowing that soon she will be asleep again and you can release the pressure.

And then she sleeps. And you watch her precious face. Face of an angel. An angel that feels the heaviness of being a human. You know intimately how that feels.

And you cry.

She wakes in pain. She independently presses the buzzer for he nurse. “I have a lot of pain. 6 out of 10. Can I have something to help my pain please”?

And she gradually feels better. The drip machine makes noise and when before she didn’t hear it because of her pain and daze, she hears it and complains. You know she is improving. You sense your body relaxing. It’s been well tense.

Nurse after nurse pours love and support over our family. With each medication delivery, bed pan, sips of water to each firm encouragement to get up and moving, you feel supported and encouraged.

The best days are still ahead…maybe? Surely.

And just like the day you brought her home form the hospital after she was born, you take the driveway exit really gently not to cause too much shock movement in the car. To startle her body. Inhaled.


The storm has passed and the waves have retracted.




Multiple games of UNO ensue. You lose and you love it.

You bathe in the joy that your baby is better. Is getting stronger. And goes back to school.

And in the quiet you realise that the 2017 plan was never going to offer you what you expected.

You in fact, were gifted with so much more than you expected.

You wanted to have the opportunity to connect in deeper and more raw way with your family. Could you have had a better opportunity?

You see that you could never have organised a better way to deepen the connection with your husband.

You notice that your tribe are your tribe for a reason.

You bathe in the love that folks have poured out via messenger, Facebook, SMS, and phone calls and see how loved and supported you are.

You acknowledge that it is still your growth area to ask for support and are willing to practice more…even in the times outside of the storms.

You recognise that you are still releasing pain and cleaning up some of the debris from the storm, but you are in no rush to do so. The busy has been weeded out.

You have the experience of sitting in the pain. Right deep in it. And you didn’t run. You didn’t beat yourself up (much). You felt it as much as you could and allowed yourself to step away from it as well. You were actually practicing being brave.

You thank pain and bid it farewell. Thank you for your visit.

And just as you are about to attempt to return to your ‘usual’ life, the specialist says, “I fear there is another collection in her abdomen. She’ll need another ultrasound and more blood tests…..”.

Inhale. Exhale.

You relax into it. You don’t fight it. And maybe it is because you are completely exhausted and have no energy to spare. But maybe it is because you trust that this is ok. She is ok. And will  be ok.

You still cry. Ugly wee out your eyes cry.

You don’t deny how you are feeling. Instead you are re-reminded of what is most important to you. And reinforced that you are human and human things happen to humans and humaning is fucking hard. No news flash. It’s for real.

Stuff happens to humans irrespective of how kind they are, how much money they have, how funny, they are, how ‘healthy’ they are….unexpected stuff happens!!

AND there is so much love that exists as a human. And pain can be a gateway to deeper more unconditional love. While you have always ‘known’ this and ‘preached’ this…you actually have embodied this.

Allowing yourself permission to feel it all. And being kind with yourself when you bypass the pain….understanding you will return to heal it. Not escape button it.

And in no surprise you read a blog post by one of your favourite writers and it sums it up  for you:

Being human hurts. We try so hard to avoid this fact, doing our best to numb ourselves with various addictions, overwork, obsessive love affairs, positive psychology, and or spiritual bypassing techniques to try to “love and light” our way past the pain. But no matter how you run away from pain, pain will track you down, stalking you like a leopard until you finally dive down into it and really let it devour you. We have to go all the way into our traumas (as I described here) before it can begin to release us, open our hearts, and show us that at the pit of our pain, all we meet is (paradoxically)—unconditional love. This is what we’re so afraid of? Love? (Lissa Rankin)

And in her blog she references another of your favourite teachers:

So when we Easy button our way out we are like caterpillars who jump out of the cocoon right before we would have become butterflies. Because pain is actually not a hot potato. It’s the traveling professor and it knocks on everybody’s door, and the wisest ones say, “Come in. Sit down, and don’t leave until you’ve taught me what I need to know.” But we’ve got it all wrong. We are afraid of pain, but we were made for pain. We need to be afraid of the Easy buttons. Because the journey of the Love Warrior is to rush toward her pain and let her pain become her power. (Glennon Doyle Melton)

Something has changed within you. You can feel it. It is subtle and yet so powerful. All that time you spent thinking ‘the best is yet to come’, you see that the best is right here now. Each moment of every now.

Each card game. Each message of love. Each meal together. Each challenge.

And even though as you consider having to consider surgery number 3 for your baby girl, you know that you ‘should’ be feeling afraid and angry and shaking your fists at the sky screaming ‘why me’, ‘should’ isn’t running the show.

Instead you draw closer to the pain. Right into it’s den. You sit down across from it and you ask, “What is it you want to share with me this time wise teacher”?

To be continued……….


2 comments on “The Begining of the Break: Part 1.”

The Begining of the Break: Part 1.

Adele’s touching speech at the Grammys yesterday, hit my heart. My life space.

She spoke of losing herself after she had children. Of how tough it was to go through that. And that her most recent album was a way to recover herself. To transform.

So me. I was touched. And I wanted to share my break.

She going to get all out there with this one.

She going to hit the topic that, when felt deeply, well, it can sting. In a lot of ways.

The whole reason that this website exists is because I had children.

The whole reason I do what I do now is because I had children.

The reason I have some of the most soul connected friends I have, is because I had children.

But having children was so suck arse for me in the early days!

Having children absolutely sucked arse for me in the beginning. It bit so hard. So hard  that I was sure I was breaking.

And on reflection, I think I did.

I did break.

Those of you who know my story, know that I was dropped into the new would of parenting at like full speed. A

In Feb 2005 I was pregnant. In March 2005, I was not.

In April 2005 I was pregnant again.

Within 3 months I rode the upward journey on the rollercoaster of elation to be pregnant with a baby. A little baby that my partner and I had created all by ourselves, somehow.

We rode the fast decent on the rollercoaster when we learned that our little baby didn’t actually have a heart beat.

“It’s totally common” they said. “1 in 4 pregnancies end like this”. “At least you can fall pregnant”, I was told.

Well fuck. Yes, but I lost our little baby!

6 weeks later, those same symptoms I had experienced the first time came back. Could I be pregnant already?


And up goes the rollercoaster.

I decide that I would leave my job that I had to travel over 2 and half hours each day in the car to get to and from. A tough decision. But I wanted a healthy baby, and I could start again after the baby.

6 weeks later, a visit to the loo left me in fragments again. Blood. So much blood. Blood you just do not want to see when you are pregnant.



And the rollercoaster heads south again and I just wanted the fuck off it. This is not fun.

I call the doctor and say I am not coming in for my scan, “I’ve lost another baby, I sob”!

Gently, the receptionist reassures me and we venture in.

Rollercoaster off the rails.

I don’t want to look at that fucking screen again and see no heart beat. I’d rather not thank you very much.

Again, gently lead, I lay down. Not breathing. Not looking. Not really there.

The gel. The scan.The wooshy sounds.

I still can’t breathe.

And then I hear it.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. A whoosh that I knew was a little heart.

In inhale deeply and turned my head to see a little thing on the screen and a little flicker happening inside it.

“It’s alive?” I say through the tears?

“Yes, you have a baby in there for sure”.

And the tears fell. The relief. The rollercoaster back on the rails and slowly moving forward, ever so slowly.

Dr B keeps exploring the space where the baby lives.



I could feel something else was there.

I looked intently with him.

“There is something else I can see in your uterus with the baby. I’ll need to send you off for a more accurate scan”.

What do you mean something else? What the fuck do you mean?

Not another baby?

Then what the fuck?

And off we go for the next scan.

At this point, I am so out of the rollercoaster. Off it. No more play thanks! Fuck it. I am not feeling any more of this shit.

And numb.

The scan revealed that I had this thing called a sub-chorionic-heamatoma. This is what it looks like.

Basically, I had a bruise in my uterus.

A bruise that would grow as the uterus stretched and could in fact rupture and if it did, would take the baby with it.

Are you fucking kidding me?



So, I did what I always had done. I just got on with life…all the while stressing so big that I was going to lose  my baby.

Every time I went to the toilet there was blood. Lots of blood. A thing that as a pregnant women just doesn’t make sense to the brain. It sees danger. It sees bad shit. It sees, something is going to go wrong here.

And I pushed the fear, the terror, the sadness aside and I got on with it.

My partner and I were planning a wedding, building a house. I had to get on with it.

And get on with it I did…and it isn’t until later, the truth of the experience bubbled up…and when it did….I was sure I was breaking…..

[see you next week for part 2]

2 comments on “It is official and I just don’t know how much time I have left!!”

It is official and I just don’t know how much time I have left!!

So my friends. It is official. I AM DYING.

It has been confirmed. And I am not sure how much time I have left, all I know is I am dying.

It is a sad and yet very real truth.

So before I say good bye, I have to say this.

0 comments on “It is official and I just don’t know how much time I have left!!”

It is official and I just don’t know how much time I have left!!

So my friends. It is official. I AM DYING.

It has been confirmed. And I am not sure how much time I have left, all I know is I am dying.

It is a sad and yet very real truth.

So before I say good bye, I have to say this.


Now before you get all, ‘dar, of course we are deush bag, you scared me there I thought you were ACTUALLY dying!!!” I just want to consider this TRUTH that we all KNOW but kinda don’t actually want to consider.

Deeply consider.

Immediately the brain will go into survival mode and us in a state of alert.

“Holy shit, I am dying. Shit. What do I do? What have I done with my life? Shit. How do I stop this from happening?”

So, lets just take a breath…no, I am serious, you and me, take a breath now! Inhale deeply into your belly and exhale all the old air out. And, if you are feeling really scared that you are dying, maybe you take another one!

I’m not minimising the absolute pain it causes when we lose someone we love deeply. I am not minimising the distress real painful death causes.

But beauty, here is the truth.

If you are not living a vibrant and expansive and growth-kind-of-life, you may as well have a terminal illness.

In my 20’s I learnt the biggest learning about life…and death. I had taken a job doing 12 hour night shifts in an oncology unit. These people were proper dying. Chemotherapy kind of dying. Bone cancer kind of dying. Brain tumour kind of dying.

I was blessed to work nights in that unit, because it was at night I could hear the sobbing. It was at night I had the time to sit with these folks. It was at night the regrets surfaced. It was at night I got schooled on life.

3 patients have stayed with me since that time on the oncology unit. I want share one of those life teachers lessons and pay homage to a woman who would never have known how much she would influence my life.

Mary. A woman in her late 60’s who had spent her entire life committed to running a corporate business. She was a passionate woman and made the decision in her 30’s to commit to her job and forgo the family life. The mainstream life. She told me of all her  glorious travels. She told me of the money she had made. The safety of her role in the company she ran for over 25 years. The friends she had met.

I was captivated and loved listening to her.

We both looked forward to our chats and the reminiscing.

Mary spoke so positively about her decision to not have a family and to commit her energy to her job. I admired that. At that time I wan’t sure how I felt about having a family. I thought I’d just have dogs really. Not kids (side not, I have no dog and 3 kids).

Then one night, when I was doing my rounds, I found Mary sobbing. Proper ugly cry, snot flinging sobbing. My heart. Oh my heart. I can still remember.

When she finally caught her breath, we talked. And she shared honestly. Deeply honestly with me. And I can still remember like it was last night I was with her. I still have th journal entry about it!

She said, “I married my job. I chose that. And it is not that makes me sad. What makes me sad is that I didn’t LOVE my life. I never questioned if that is what my heart really wanted. Truth be known I was too afraid. And now, as I lay in this bed dying, I see that I have no family, no friends and the folks that I used to work with, well they are still working. Jenny, I am dying and I don’t think I mattered to anyone. Don’t ever follow anything other than your heart and create a life you love”.

Ugh……still gets me!!

You and I came here, this one time, in this unique form in this unique experience. Not ten years ago, not 120 years ago (welllll, maybe you are the oldest person alive reading this..if you are “hi”, how honoured am I?”

You came here, in this unique form, with all your unique gifts, this time around.

Consider that.

Don’t you think that is fucking miraculous? FUCKING miraculous.

And my beauty, how is it that you are spending your life right now?

Watching cat video’s and being pissed off in your job and bitching and moaning about grumpy people you heard talking about how many grumpy they are in the world?

I mean, really? Is this how we want to treat our one precious life.

Are you spending it all up in other peoples business, telling them what they ‘should’ be doing and you aren’t actually doing what you know you ‘should’ be doing in your own life?

Are you gossiping and poo poo-ing folks behind their backs?

Steven Pressfield in his book, “The War of Art” talks about this really, real thing called ‘resistance’ which in simplest terms is about us feeling this internal push back when we want to follow this ‘inner calling’ thing.

It’ll be the parent who suddenly says they desperately need your help (when they have been refusing it for years), just when you are about to step into a new creative direction.

It’ll be the school fees at the private school you are busting to pay for for your child so they might have a ‘better life than yours’..poor kid is going to carry that burden (don’t worry…they need something to go to therapy for”.

Then the story we make up is, “oh, see I am not meant to do that, the universe obviously doesn’t want that to happen”. Is it the universe or is it YOU?

Sweet beauty.

You want to quit just like that?

Well of course you do. You are terrified of what will happen if you actually follow that calling thing.

You are afraid that you will look like a dick if it doesn’t ‘quite work out’.

You are afraid that there will be folks saying, “I told you so, you should have just stayed in that suck-arse-life-taking-piece-of-shit-job where you feel like your life is being completely vampired”!

You are afraid that all that thinking, dreaming and plotting may not turn out just like you wanted it too.

You are afraid that you will lose a shit load of money and then feel like a funk-arse failure.

You are afraid that people will be like, “oh but all of that is already done. I mean, do we really need another book/candle/pen/dance/talk/piece of food in the world (insert your thing)?

You are afraid that no one will vibe with your stuff and be like, “Oh well that was a waste of time and money wasn’t it?”

You are afraid that you will be criticised.

You are afraid folks will think you are ‘too good for yourself’ and turn their nose up at you and keep their distance like you are losing your skin and bleeding everywhere.

You are…AFRAID.

And I get it. I SO get it. I get is beyond getting it. I do.

I am afraid too.

No, really I am.


I am afraid that I am not going to have time in my life to create everything I want to create.

I am afraid that I will be on my own on this creative adventure.

I am afraid that people will think I know all the fucking answers to all the pain and problems in the world.

I am afraid that I am not enough. That I haven’t done enough. That I am not good enough.

I am afraid that all the money I have invested in training, and development and learning and everything is not going to produce what I want and will be a waste of money.

Yes, I am afraid.

I am.

I am afraid AND I am doing it anyway. It isn’t completely clear, it isn’t really defined. But I follow the calls. The next call. And the next.

Not because it is perfect (um, not even close to it). Not because I know exactly what I am doing but because the risk of NOT doing it FAR too great for me NOT to!

I don’t want to spend this one precious life waiting. Waiting until I feel enough. Waiting for the ‘right’ time. Waiting until someone gives me permission to follow the calling that just wont stop.

The calling is not a ‘thing’ or a job title or a particular event.

It is a calling to show up in my life.

It is a calling to do more of that stuff that just makes time pass effortlessly.

It is a calling to notice the things that feel constrictive in my body and notice the things that feel expansive.

It is a calling to create a life instead of complain about a life.

It is a calling to be curious and open and to never really ‘know’ all the answers.

It is a calling to serve.

It is calling to be fucking kind to myself, to honour myself and try stuff. And fail. And learn. And grow. And try.

It is a calling that will not quit.


This, where I sit right now, typing to the one person (that is you) that is reading this is my calling!

To share my life adventure so that you might be reminded that you are not alone. That I too am afraid. AND that we can still do it anyway!!

To remind you of your strength in your uniqueness. And your strength in your sameness. You are strong. You ‘know’ you can do this thing, you are just afraid.

To remind you that each house in the world has a table in it, but it ins’t the SAME table, made by the SAME person. NO, there are tables made all over the place for all kinds of settings, tastes, colours, shapes. I mean…come on!

SO if you are afraid that it has already been done, it hasn’t been done your way.

If you afraid that it is going to cost you too much, start by sussing it with your friends. Talk to a trusted friend. Not a blow smoke up your arse friend, and not a friend that is a scared as you, but a friend that will give it to you straight. AND love you deeply.

Beauty, I am dying. And, when I get to the end and look back, I want to know that I have loved. I want to know that I gave it a red hot crack at creating a life that I am proud of. That I showed my kids what it is to not just talk about my dreams, but let my gifts unfold into reality. That I was SUPER kind to myself through the process.

So, can we hold each other accountable, right now? Can we commit to quit the bitching about our spouses, our friends, our bosses, and other bitch-worthy shit?

AND instead, turn our attention in and ask, “what kind of person do I want to be in this world and what do I want to create?”.

Life is precious. Life is oh so short. You just don’t know how much time you have left!

Oh and Mary, if you can hear me on the other side, know that you mattered to me more than we will ever really know!

Sending you big, big love