Inspiration Everywhere Listening

Going Soft (and lovin’ it)

Do you hold your tummy in all the time? Or some other part – your jaw, shoulders, neck?

I call this habit THE CLENCH. I’m on a Quest to smooth it out.

The other day, one of my singing partners – a petite, lithe 50ish dancer – showed us her round, soft belly. We softened our bellies too. It felt good to let it all hang out.

So in my morning ritual, Move Groove & Gratitude, I slid my elastic waist down to really let my tummy breathe. It looked much bigger and floppier than I knew. Yes, dimples. Yes, sagging skin. Yes, wiggly.

My whole life I’ve held my belly in, to look as flat as possible. And damn proud of it.

Yet it felt so good to go soft. I set aside my judgements and loved my belly up and down. I thanked it for doing its job: storing fat for lean times, holding my babies, digesting my food.

Could I keep it soft all day? HaHa! In less than two minutes, I was holding it in again.

On Day 2, I practice belly softening at several social events. Would anyone notice? Course not! I avoid alcohol, keep my senses sharp. Getting easier. Still I catch myself in THE CLENCH at least 25 times.

Day 3: I awoke feeling strangely sad. For no reason. Yet I sensed it was part of my Belly experiment. I let go of my to-do list and spent the day tending old emotions (more on that later).

Day 4: My tummy is soft more than not. But it takes devotion to open a new neural pathway, a new pattern. It takes effort to invite awareness, to slow down, to feel my body, to love my self as I am.

‘Going soft’ is seen as weak, in a patriarchal culture that’s about proving our worth through accomplishment (get it done, babe! what’s next on that list?)

But what if our priority was to see our beautiful bellies, our selves, and those around us – with softer, gentler, eyes? To round off the hard edges?

I’ll bet our days would be sweeter, kinder, more loving.

Why should I care? It’s just my belly…

Because as each of us heals our old shizzle, we become more human. More whole. More available to show up for what’s needed: in our selves, our relationships, our communities, our world.

What would this world look like if more of us could show up?

Climate Change: we can do it. Social inequities? We’re working on it. Cruelty? give it time…

When our hearts are open, our hands are more willing to work for what we love most.

Take a moment, now…

  • Draw in a deep breath and let out a sigh, ahhh….
  • Let the breath flow down into your belly
  • Let it go soft
  • Let it be the shape that it is
  • Can you love your shape, as it is, right now?

Could your heart use a kind, insightful ear? Fresh skills to connect and communicate from the Heart? More courage to create your Hearts’ Desire?

Contact me for an introductory coaching session, or a Body & Soul Healing with Sound session. Currently by donation.

Authentic Voice Listening Singing Spark Soulwork

Our Voices, Now

Heading to Seattle’s 23rd Women of Wisdom conference to offer 2 workshops. Info is below.

So excited to support women in deep voice work:  listening and opening our voices! Please join us!

Here are 3 events coming up where you can share your beautiful, true Voice 🙂

Open our Voices NOW ~ The Power of Song and Spoken Word
Monday, Feb 16, 9am – noon, Women of Wisdom Conference, North Seattle College.
WOW Members $40; others $50; Student w/ID & Seniors 65+ $30; Teens 13-18, $10
Come express your heart’s deepest desire. Though improvisational voice games and free writing we’ll get to the core of what we want to say, then shape into simple songs and/or spoken word pieces. You’re invited to share at the optional Open Mic/Banquet (1:30-4pm). REGISTER here.

Young Women & Teens Taking Action ~ Generations Co-Creating Change
Saturday Feb 14, 1:30-4:30, Women of Wisdom conference, North Seattle College.
$25 adults/$10 teens or by scholarship – REGISTER here.
Be inspired by young women who are making a difference in their communities: including our local “Girl in a Tree” Chiara Rose (D’angelo Patricio), and others. Explore positive ways for elders, moms, aunties and friends to collaborate with young people, as we make new connections for powerful change.

NEW Vocal Improv Trio : Improvapella (the Imps) 
“The Sound of Not Knowing” interactive concert
Mossback Cafe, 26185 Ohio Avenue, Kingston, WA
Sunday, February 22, dinner from 5-9
Music @ 7pm, suggested donation $5-10
Join me, Gordon Sims and V Calvez as we share random acts of sonic awesomeness: spontaneous songs created in the moment! And an invitation for you to tap, snap and sing along if you like!

Spark Circles: creative healing for women, Tuesday nights 6-9 in Suquamish
NEW Authentic Voice Class coming soon, Fridays 12:30-3:30, Winslow
Reply, text or call 206-852-3152 for info.

Authentic Action Lessons learned Listening

What I learned at Summer Spark Camp

Last week girls a gaggle of 8-11 year old girls descended on our property for our annual Summer Spark Day Camp.

I learned as much – or more – about Spark than the kids. Not by leading, but by following.

The intention is to prepare preteen girls for the social-emotional challenges that can pop up like scary clowns in early adolescence. For example: Looking in the mirror, not liking what we see. Saying rotten things to ourselves. Trying to get approval from folks who may never give it. Watching our friendships mysteriously go “poof.”

These are real topics that girls in my teen circles talk about. If we can’t spare them the hardships of the road, can we give them tools to negotiate the terrain? Can we guide them to their core, so they won’t forget how sweet, beautiful and powerful they are?

My copilot Katherine Wieseman and I devised a sequence of themes, activities and movement games to connect the girls to their inner value (Spark) and to each other. We planned to make hula hoops, practice communication with games and collaborate on a project of their choosing.

[image source_type=”attachment_id” source_value=”2476″ width=”250″ autoHeight=”true” align=”right”]On Day One the girls got so creative during snack time that we abandoned other plans.

After grazing on strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, apples and snow peas in our garden, they begged: “Can we make fruit salad?”

An hour later, we shared a gorgeous array of dishes made entirely by them. Surprise: basil with a dusting of sugar is excellent! Who knew?

The day was focused, playful, smiling, laughing, experimental, productive, problem solving. But it had little to do with our ideas, other than a few movement games Katherine led us in.

On Day Two we went to the beach. My favorite moment was crouching in wonder at the colors and textures of life in a square foot of tide pool. Calloway led me there, to catch crabs to stay in her Crab Hotel made from a clam shell.

On Day Three we brainstormed project ideas on a giant pad. “Let’s bake pies with the fruit! Let’s make art! A treasure hunt!” We helped them negotiate and happily blend ideas to create an event for parents and siblings the last day of camp.

[image source_type=”attachment_id” source_value=”2483″ align=”left” width=”275″ autoHeight=”true”] On Day Four they devised the official Spark Olympics Treasure Hunt. They wrote rhyming clues to guide our guests to places we explored at camp: the Spring, the Greenhouse, the Blueberry Patch, the Apple Orchard, the Wheelbarrow, and my husband’s Sculpture Garden, aka Junk Pile. Each place had an activity, so parents could try out our games.

On Day Five we scurried like a synchronized team of happy ants, making fresh juices, testing the Spark Olympics before our guests arrived.

We asked them for one word for how they felt. “Excited! Happy! Ready!”

The event was beautiful, epic. Though our plans went by the wayside, the intention held: to build core confidence through the creative joys of collaboration. And it was done almost by magic, without trying.

[image source_type=”attachment_id” source_value=”2482″ align=”right” width=”300″ autoHeight=”true”]What did I learn? That the real juice of learning happens when we trust the moment. Bits of what we know – or want to know – can simply flow between us, lifted by smiles and laughter.

Creativity is more than making art or music. It’s using what we have (fruit, the land, each other) to make something beautiful and useful.

This feels good, like evolution. And it will live on in memory, feeding us long after the last piece of pie is gone.

Authentic Writing Inspiration Everywhere Listening Soulwork

Grandpa Gumpy’s wisdom: Story and the Space Between

As the cold and rains came in November, I decided to begin writing another book. As much as I’d like to write a fantasy novel for the Twins of Tessar series, or complete the one I wrote during #NaNoWriMo in 2009, another story calls.

This tale is a map to the many doors that have opened in me, gradually, graciously allowing me to become fully myself. The story is as sweet as a fairy that leads you with her glowing light into the forest. And it’s as scary as that 9-headed monster you don’t want to meet there in the dark. It’s hopping with goofy gremlins of all shades and colors in between.

I’m not yet 100% clear on the shape this story will take. A graphic memoir? An animation? A performance? A series of blog posts or videos? Every day in November (I’m calling it Devotional Project Month, or DevoProMo) I spend from 1 to 3 hours writing, singing, drawing, filming, or just exploring this story. My intention is to utterly follow an inner compass, my Spark.

So far my mind and heart has overflowed with ideas, generating a mountain of words. That is part of the process, to allow what comes. But my ego wanted a flashlight and a shovel so I could see the path ahead. My Spark said: Ask Grandpa.

[image source_type=”attachment_id” source_value=”1980″ align=”right” lightbox=”true” width=”300″ autoHeight=”true”] My grandfather, Dr. Norman Frank Thorpe, was a master teacher and storyteller. With a twinkle in his sea-blue eyes, he charmed and inspired and warmed the hearts of everyone around him. This superpower, along with his insightful intelligence, led to a position of honor as a dean at the University of Nebraska.

Grandpa Gumpy died when I was 16. At that time I was cut off from myself, pursuing pleasure in any form I could get, seeking to change my unhappy consciousness through many dangerous adventures on the wild road.

Among the elders who expressed concern my 15th summer, Grandpa truly saw me. With his presence, his body, his hands, and that mystery sauce that emanates from a loving heart, he showed me how much he cared for me. Perhaps it made a difference; perhaps that love created a force field that helped me survive several brushes with death.

38 years later, I still need his love. And his help. I lit a candle and settled into the big comfy chair he would have chosen. I remembered details that brought him to life again: running my hand across his silver flattop, bristle-stiff yet deliciously bendable. His leathery skin, dark tan from many hours in the sun golfing or fishing, his great passions. The scent of his favorite pipe tobacco.

I thanked him for his love, and for showing me how to hook a worm that long quiet afternoon at Butternut Point, Minnesota, when I was about 7. Sharing a small boat with Grampa Gumpy, watching the ripples move across the lake, with a backdrop of buzzing insects, I imagined the world below the surface. Would a fish swim up to take a bite of that worm?

My book – or whatever it is – is like the elusive sunfish. My ego wants to catch it, but it’s still swimming in the land of mystery.

I asked out loud, “Grandpa, what can you tell me about storytelling?”

His words came up from my heart, from the wisdom that reaches beyond time and space and death and life. His voice was clear, and it had a twinkle. Always a twinkle.

“The real essence of story comes from not only from what you think you have to say, but from the magical space between you and your audience.

First, put your awareness in the audience. Imagine that you are among them. Imagine their concerns, their needs and wants. Once you can really feel them, then you are ready to step into the space between.

The space between you and them is where the fire is, the ancient storytelling fire. Men and women have crouched and told stories around this fire for the millennia. That space between is where the magic happens: it whispers to you what is needed. If you remember that space and the fire, your stories will connect.”

I sat in awe of this nugget, sensing that shifting from Me to You to the Space Between will help with all communication, not just this project. It’s another way to speak of the resonant field, created with our energy.

Grandpa spoke of many things, of becoming an elder, of authenticity. He also said that my book is not one big story, but many little ones. Just like the fish in the lake. We want to catch a Big Fish, but most of the joy and pleasure of fishing is in the feel of the sun and the shadows swimming under the boat.

Do you have a relationship with your ancestors? Tell me a story…

Inspiration Everywhere Listening Soulwork Transitions & Transformations

How Fear made way for Love

I’ve just come off a 3-day slump in which I faced down the fear monster. Again.

Fear is one of the joys of making a major life transition, especially in midlife, when we have more to lose. Fear of the unknown. Of criticism. Of risk.

It can honestly feel like you’re on the road to Mordor. Black riders of doubt flying overhead. Gollem lurking in the pit of your stomach. A ring of power — your past — burns you, but you can’t take it off.

Ironically, my new adventure is about creating tools and offering support for women in transition. So I can write it all off as valuable research.

Sometimes the joy of pain is how great it feels when it’s over. Like a headache. This morning, I ventured more deeply into the heart of the beast. Pema Chödrön taught me to brave these emotions. And by allowing, came a real breakthrough. I suddenly see the nature of my fear. I can begin to taste the antidote, trust.

And suddenly, I’m so in Love with this journey. I’m totally in LOVE with the Holy Grail that prompted me to leave the comforts of my old life: finding and creating the life exactly right for me, my unique gifts and callings.

Now there is even MORE LOVE than I had before. Because I came through the fire for it. Because I faced the monster.

I’m so grateful I get to even consider seeking a life with more meaning. That there’s still enough to eat. I’m so grateful that my husband loves me in spite of my dark moments, or because of them. Because I’m willing to take this on and ask him to hold me until I feel safe enough to write this.

I’m in love. With all of it. The joy, the fear, the doubt, the dark and the light and every shade in between.

And I wish the same for you, this Valentine’s Day.

Tell me: how are you in love with your own life?


A Creative Life Lessons learned Listening Singing Spark Transitions & Transformations

Perfect no More.

I’m not perfect. Yay!

Why am I so friggin’ happy about this? Because I no longer need to try.

To celebrate, I am CREATING and RELEASING a new song nearly every day for a month. These songs aren’t perfect. They are handmade, on my iPad, with only my voice and the VoiceJam app. They speak directly from my heart, soul and guts. And they are gorgeous in their imperfect glory.

Here’s today’s song: Brand New
Brand New by christine-ah

The Story.

I lost a few things lately, including my 6-year-old dayjob as a web producer/ designer. I’d looked forward to this change, but didn’t count on misplacing my old identity, my contribution to society, my nerve, my equilibrium, blah blah blah.  Since I’m offering creative tools to navigate change, life gave me a perfectly imperfect opportunity to walk the walk.

Writing is one of the best creative tools for change. Not only do you uncover what’s going on inside (daily morning pages, journaling), but telling your story can open things up for others, too. So I’m firing up this weekly blog again.

Time to face up – and fess up – to my own demons. I had to name it, claim it, and tame it. A big self-sabotage patterns for women is a need to be Perfect.

You too? I see more than a few hands raised…

I have a character inside me I call Good Girl. She’s a helluva survivor. She’s pretty great at being perfect. So perfect that I would be loved. But she’s also a bit of a Bad Seed.

Good Girl has a problem with Weird. If I’m too weird in public – be myself, actually – she gets her panties in a twist.

But there’s a visionary and a storyteller and a performer in me, too. They get ideas and even execute and finish them: stories, songs, artwork (you may have a character in you that won’t let you even get that far. I feel your pain.)

But then Good Girl stops me from releasing. From performing. From sending it off to be published.

She only wants to help. Really. It might not be good enough. It might get rejected. People won’t like me. And that is intolerable to Good Girl.

Good Girl and I had a good long chat the other day. We made a deal. It’s ok for me to be weird, as long as it’s Good Weird.

So I’m making songs, to create a new GROOVE to replace the old pattern: Good AND weird.

I do hope you like my songs. But being liked isn’t the point. It’s releasing the songs – and not worrying too much about the liking part – that counts.

May you make peace with your own perfect little Good Girl. Tell me about it, with a perfectly imperfect comment.


A Creative Life Everyday Spark Inspiration Everywhere Lessons learned Listening Soulwork

Hold Up That Which Holds You Up

The other morning I woke slowly, lying happily in the place between dream and full consciousness. I asked my psyche to help come up with a fresh name and iconic image for a new workshop I’m offering this fall.

As I lay with eyes closed, I saw a quick flash of myself walking. An early morning walk around our property is usually part of my daily routine. Opening my mind/heart/gut while moving through changing scenery, walking or driving (road trips!), is a sure-fire way to let the insights flow.

Yet I’ve been so focused on getting the workshop ready, learning to launch it, getting all the details perfect, that I’ve neglected a daily walk and other rituals to keep the mojo happy: yoga/dance, dream journal, daily singing. Even writing this blog every week. All are an expression of gratitude for life. In my desire to make things happen, I forgot that vital piece.

Basically, I’ve not been feeding what feeds me. Or as African spiritual teacher Dr. Fu-Kiau Benseki, a gorgeous man whom I was lucky to spend a day with, calls Simba-Simbi: to Hold Up That Which Holds You Up.

I’ve not followed through on what I know to be true. And yet, following inner knowing is a large part of what I would share in the workshop. As they say in Pirates of the Caribbean: “That’s what you call ironic.”

The walking image was so clear. I followed. As I walked through the open meadow and the dark forest trails, I did not get instant answers to what I thought was the most pressing problem. Instead, I saw how old recurring patterns can get in the way of what moves through me.

Often when I take on something new, I allow it to overpower me. I can get very focused, nay, workaholic. This is the shape of my addictive nature now. It’s slightly more attractive than other addictions I’ve danced with (food, TV, sex, drugs, success, etc.).

While intense overwork feels productive and makes my gorgeous ego happy, the outcome is rarely awesome. Truly amazing requires good communication with the field, the source, God, whatevah you call it. Daily rituals – even just taking a pause to breathe deeply – helps me stay in touch with that mystery, the source that really powers the project.

And yet, when I forget, it’s really ok.

One of many brilliant changes at midlife is the ability to smile at my foibles. In the past I’d have given myself a good whipping for this. Now I course-correct much more gracefully. Lovingly.

I say, “Just remember this moment, my darling. The flow of awareness is always, ALWAYS available. Nothing has been wasted. I am so very proud of you, for growing, for learning, for being willing to look at this afresh.”

How do you stay in touch with that which fuels your creativity?
What do you do when you drop the line?
Your comments are like a fizzy vitamin drink, a boost of delight for this trail-dusty explorer.

Inspiration Everywhere Lessons learned Listening Transitions & Transformations

From Fear into Flow

How do you handle fear when it grabs on and doesn’t want to let go?

I’ve been wrestling with growing pains as I step into a new creative business. It will challenge me and bring together all of my gifts. I’m thrilled, but extremely slow to Come. Out. With it.

Call it resistance, lizard brain, or plain old fear. Maybe because I spent years avoiding my emotions, I’m unable to simply brush it off. I choose to work with it, but I can get stuck there.

Last weekend I backpacked out to ShiShi beach with 8 women friends. It’s wild, uninhabited and among the most inspiring places on this planet. I took some alone time, looked out at the great blue water and asked my inner guidance for a little advice. “Please, help me understand the nature of my fears and how to work with them.”

What I really meant was: “What the frick is up with all this fear? It’s blocking me from taking action, from being creative, being productive, like I usually am. Maybe it was better before, when I didn’t feel my real feelings. This fear is really pissing me off. I want to be done. Move on. What the hell can I do?”

Thankfully I got a very beautiful, simple answer: breathe.

It’s a special kind of breathing: tonglen (Tibetan for giving and receiving), that I first learned in Pema Chodrun’s book When Things Fall Apart.  You breathe in the suffering of others in each inhale, and send out happiness to all beings in the exhale. It’s a beautiful way to open and expand your sense of loving kindness. I’ve used it when dealing with difficult people, with amazing results. Now I have to count myself as difficult!

By its very nature, you do tonglen for others. But the message I got at the ocean was that I could include myself too. As I breathe in, I can notice my fears as part of the greater suffering. As I breathe out, I can concentrate on sending love and complete trust, to myself as well as the whole of creation. Which is the antidote to fear.

Next time I notice fear getting in my own way, I can breathe it in, and breathe it out, transformed.

The other big takeaway from the ocean was Flow. Even though I have a crazy list of things to do, and will never get to them in a timeline that will satisfy my gorgeous ego, I can approach each moment as an opportunity to find the flow. A sense of ease and joy.

That’s what ocean does. It doesn’t freaking worry about which wave to move, when. It goes where it can. And when it comes up against hard places, it wears them down, gradually and gently.

Tell me: do you have any tricks to wash away your fear? or to find your flow?

Your comments are like a visit from a dear friend; I smile and twinkle when I see you here.


Dreams & Visions Inspiration Everywhere Listening Soulwork Transitions & Transformations

Precious Beings All (or, what the rocks said)

At any time, we get to decide who – and how – we want to be. But some phases are more urgent than others. I am in transition: the midlife shift. It’s a huge opportunity to wake up.

This morning I wrote, “I’m getting there.”  Then I scratched that. It’s more like: I’m getting Here. As in recognizing what is possible in each moment.

I’ve spent much of my life being goal-oriented. It’s the dominant paradigm, one that I’m learning to change. New teachers show up every day, yet our big brains can get in the way. Our memory keeps us There, as in Before. Our pattern-loving brains tell us, “I like this, I don’t like this.” “I can do this, I can’t do that.” These preferences — identity — can block what’s happening NOW.

What if each moment told us what to notice and appreciate and do?

This spring on a woman’s retreat to Yelapa, Mexico, we hiked through the jungle to a gorgeous pool and waterfall surrounded by looming gray boulders. While others played and swam and dove and chatted, I floated near the huge wizened rocks. I was drawn to these guardians of Eden, and their ancient perspective — so different from our brief human lives, our foibles, our pains, our insecurities. What did they have to say?

I opened myself to listen. Cultivating Yin. Simply being. Allowing my body to utterly relax (it’s easier in water where every inch is held and supported), I imagine my solar plexus as a bowl, ready to receive, yet with no idea or expectancy.  I call this “letting the wind blow inside me.”

As I floated there, I sensed messages coming from the rocks. (Or perhaps it was my own mind. I will never know. I’m okay with that ambiguity.) Here is what they said:

oh, you lovely silly humans.
So gorgeous in your fragility.
Your laughter warms us.
Your play enlivens us.
We awaken when you come here to us.
We need you, your stolen kisses, your stories, your babies’ cries.
And yet —
You don’t fully see, or know, your value.
You waste it sometimes.
You create suffering of your own making.
You can be cruel.
We wish you could see yourselves the way we see you:
Precious Beings. All.

This is heaven. Right now.
We know this. We’ve been here a long time.
We invite you to this. Moment. Here.

Have you ever heard a message like that? Did the wind whisper something in your ear? Can a flower open your heart with a song? Please tell me, so I won’t feel alone.

Your comments are sweet nectar for this busy bee.

(Thanks to amazing photographer and motherheart Linda Wolf for bringing me there.)

Listening Soulwork Transitions & Transformations

Becoming the Boss of your own Reality

It’s often said we choose our thoughts, feelings and perceptions. That we create our own reality.

Indeed, shite does happen to us. But how do you see, hear, feel, and interpret it? That, my dears, is entirely up to you.

If you’re a human like me, you may sometimes forget that you have this option.

I’m in the midlife shift. Time to create NEW ways, rising from the ashes of my beloved OLD ways. So one of my current pet projects is to notice my habitual thought patterns for what they are: fiction.

Yeah. I write fantasy. But I’m not always aware when I make stuff up about the ‘real life’ around me: opinions, judgments, evaluations. A lot of which are piles of hooey.

The other day our cat Sparky showed up with an abscessed wound. I took him to the vet on a busy afternoon. I’d planned to swim with a friend and a take a ferry to Seattle to see a writing mate from Australia at her bookstore reading. The doc said Sparky had to stay indoors. My fabulous daughter Sara agreed to take care of him so I could go my merry way. And then he escaped.

As I tried to wrangle him back into safety, I transformed from a slightly stressed, busy woman into a lunatic. I shouted to Sara to help me grab the little bastard. Time ticked. I cornered him, grabbed him, then screamed hysterically when he scratched my arm, blood running down. I cursed and climbed precarious over piles of old wood in the junk shed where he hid from me.

Sparky ran like wildfire into the brush. Naturally. Who wouldn’t run from a raving crazy person?

I gave up on him, cancelled my swim and rushed to the ferry, only to be foiled by a 1.5 hour backup. As I drove back home I had to laugh at fate and how I’d overreacted. This was not life and death, people! I just got caught in a seriously funky place. OF MY OWN CREATION.

To transform this experience, I first took a hard look at my actual thoughts (for reals):

  • Damn Sparky! His wound will get dirty, crawling over rusty piles of junk. The infection will get worse.
  • Damn my husband! He’ll be so upset with me, for not being careful – like he would have been.
  • Damn Sara! she’s too tentative. She should try harder, be more aggressive.
  • Damn my friend. She’ll be pissed at me for cancelling our swim. I’m always flaking out on her. She hates it.
  • Damn my lack of focus, for letting the damn cat out in the first place! I can never keep the basic shit together.

None of this was Truth. I made it up. Fueled my stress with old patterns I’ve learned to love and accept…and yet. I am the designer of my own reality. But I forgot that I have a choice.

NEW me would prefer that I first notice the stress in my body. Sit down. Take a deep breath. Let go of plans, long enough to see clearly that it’s not the end of the world if they get fracked. Trust Sparky to come back when he’s ready. Trust Sara to keep an eye on things. Trust that things are ok. Really.

Teacher and sage Martín Prechtel says humans are “raving amnesiacs.” We forget what is really important. What our options are. We need ritual and touchstones to help us shift back on track. Writing this post does that: makes way for new thoughts and actions.

I’m working on a tool designed to help you get perspective on old thoughts and new desires.

In the meantime, I’d love to hear —

  • Are you becoming more conscious of your thoughts and perceptions?
  • Do you notice your thoughts are sometimes in conflict with the new person you want to be?
  • How do you like to work with that?

Your comments show me that I am not alone in this… and they are a fragrant, moisturizing balm for the soul.