yesterday, the enormity of the change i just made and the speed at which i made it sunk in. i feel wordless, and slightly off-center, and am having trouble connecting to my intuition.

so, i am going to be quiet for a while, as i turn to the things that always bring me back home: time in the woods and by the water, playtime with my camera, meditation, writing in my journal, naps with my beloved pup, and the simple pleasures of good conversation, good books, and good food. (particularly pie. there is a blueberry pie and a strawberry pie in the frig and i could not be happier.)

because i want to reconnect with my deep sense of hope & possibility & wonder, i am going to do a version of hope floats every day on the blog through the end of september. if it calls to you, you can sign up through the end of september.

there will be no time to miss atlas, as he will continue to share photos and stories on his facebook page.

today, i leave you with this thought:

allowing yourself to be vulnerable enough to receive, whether it be support or love or generosity, can be a powerful and beautiful opportunity for inner growth.

may you know that you are supported and held.

when i first met my niece savannah, she was only a few months old.

i spent most of that visit rocking her in the rocking chair or walking her around the living room – while telling her story after story after story.

i told her the story of the invention of organization, the story of queen savannah and her pony named mustard, the story of the bluebird of happiness, and so many other stories.

there is a reason that we read stories to children, especially bedtime stories, and it is not entirely about the stories.

if i close my eyes, i can feel savannah’s little head nestled on my shoulder when she was sleepy, or see her big blue eyes staring at me in wonder when she was awake, as my words circled in the air around us.

her mother and father often heard me telling stories – they would laugh from time to time, or marvel at how i kept going and going and going like the energizer bunny – but it felt like a sweet experience between just the two of us.

i know it seems like the story club is about stories, and it is, but it is also my way of creating that same experience for you.

it’s about reminding you of the power of the story, when shared between you and your children, to create a container for an intimate experience that bonds you.

the story club is a way to bring more creativity into your life, even when the days are long and busy.

i created the story club because i wanted you to have a way to receive new stories regularly, no time or effort required.

there is something special about old favorites, about reading the same stories over and over and over. there is also something special about new stories, and the creativity and imagination they can spark in the reader/listener.

sometimes there is a deeper meaning to the stories, but often they are the simple stories that children tell. the stories that go “and then and then and then” and end unexpectedly.

but isn’t that just like life? something happens and then something else happens and then something else happens. we are the ones applying meaning to all of it.

the story club is a way to create a unique shared experience between you and your child.

you won’t find the story club stories in stores.

you can’t go to the library and check them out.

there will be other people in the world that are reading them, but they will feel more like stories that are just between you.

and maybe someday you will tell me about your child.

and then someday they will find themselves in a story.

this past weekend, i was jolted with what felt like a blinding flash of clarity. it felt like a miracle, which makes sense, because i read somewhere that a miracle is really a shift in perspective, and my perspective shifted in that one moment.

i realized that i have all these assumptions and expectations – conscious and unconscious, spoken and unspoken – about EVERYTHING. and i realized how i make myself and everyone else wrong for not meeting them.

it sounds so silly when i say it because of course i do. it’s not like i haven’t heard this before. i’m pretty sure this is one of those foundational bits of wisdom.

but oh my gosh, i get it now, in my bones get it, and getting it feels like nothing i’ve ever imagined.

i feel like a little kid. everything is so new and fascinating.

take a phone call, for instance. i call someone, and then apparently i assume that they will call me back. but why? did i tell them to call? and even if i did tell them to call, why does telling them to call make me assume that they will call? i never had a conversation with them where i said “if i tell you to call me, can you agree to call me back? if yes, does this apply to every single instance? are there exceptions? what about a timeframe?”

or take a hello. i say hello. and then i expect the other person to say something back. but why? also, it is clear that i think that some answers are acceptable and some are not. why is that? and why do i feel rejected if they don’t say anything? they might have assumptions and expectations for the exact same situation that are completely different from mine.

and this applies to everything!

it was like everything melted away in that one moment and all i was left with was love. i wanted to call everyone in my life and tell them how sorry i was for all the ways i made them wrong. when i think about it, it seems a wonder we function at all. we’re all just bumbling along, doing the very best we can, and there’s no way we can know everyone else’s assumptions and expectations when we aren’t even aware of our own.

i feel like slightly future me, who always annoyed me with her zen-like outlook on life.

of course, life being life, i can feel the newness and wonder of this fading. but the thing i have noticed is that i am left with a very clear witness, at least related to expectations and assumptions. as soon as i do something, she points them out to me. often, once i am aware of them, they fall gently away. it is so freeing. i hope it lasts for a while.

i could write so much about this, and maybe someday i will, but today i simply want to tell you that the reason i am here, the reason i am really here, is to help you connect with hope & possibility & wonder, even when you are feeling overwhelmed, scared, lost, or alone.

(of course there is also a reason behind the reason, which is to reflect your beauty back to you, and there is also a reason behind the reason behind the reason, which is to share my vision of a world full of possibility & joy & wonder.)

i spend a lot of time thinking about the difference between our excellence and our genius.

i am still not entirely sure of the essence of my particular genius, but my sense is that it centers around this: the way i see the world, the way i can express my vision of the world in image and in word, and my ability to hold onto that vision no matter how hard it gets.

if there is one thing i am sure of, it is that i am not here to be a teacher or a healer.

there are so many amazing teachers and healers in this world.

because part of my work in this life is to learn to trust myself and my inherent wholeness, i am not here to be one of them.

it feels more like i am here to be a lighthouse.

i am here to shine a light of hope & possibility & wonder in a world that sometimes feels entirely too gloomy.

because even though there are moments when i cannot access hope & possibility & wonder for myself, i can always access them for you.

thinking about this reminded me of one of my ideas, which i shall playfully and temporarily title hope floats.

now seems like the perfect time to experiment with it.

this is your invitation to join me on a 30 day adventure.

hope floats is not an e-course.

i do not want to teach you anything.

i want to sit beside you while you take one breath. i want to sit beside you while you sink deeper into your body. i want to sit beside you while you feel more at home.

here is how it will work.

every day during the month of october, an image will arrive in your email.

i will invite you to look at the image while you take a single long breath.

along with the image, i will include a phrase or a quote or a question to consider. the words will be few, because i really want to take you out of language and into silence, the silence that feels like coming home.

a friend referred to this as energy prompts, a directional arrow for your mood, which i think is a lovely description.

you can think of hope floats as a compass. the arrow will always point you home.

if your heart is saying “yes”, i would love to have you along.

cost: $11

–>this offering is no longer available.

yesterday, i started writing a blog post titled “10 things you can do when the irs is knocking at your door”, because it made me giggle.

who knows, i may still finish and share it, but the moment is not right. i do, however, want to say that i am in what could best be described as a financial implosion.

one of the things i don’t talk about is money. not because i don’t like talking about it, because i actually do. i find money and personal finance to be interesting and fascinating and relevant. if there’s a book on money out there, i’ve probably read it. (years ago, i spent one birthday weekend at a cabin with atlas, eating angel food cake and chocolate pudding while reading every single rich dad poor dad book. now that is my idea of birthday fun. oh! i also own the rich dad cashflow game. i always forget about it – i haven’t played it in years – but it is so much fun.)

i also think that money is a topic that could use a great many more open and honest discussions. (i used to belong to a discussion board where people shared everything about money, up to and including numbers. it was the most fascinating board ever.)

at its core, money is simply a means of exchange, something we created to be of use. it is not inherently good or bad. the only value it has is what we ourselves apply to it – and that value is really only a story.

somehow, over the years, we seem to have given away much of our power to money; it can cause us to feel guilty and ashamed and irresponsible and to apply judgment to ourselves and others. this seems so strange because really, things are the way they are; they got there the way they got there; what’s right for one person is wrong for another; and our financial situation says nothing about our worth and value.

along with many other things, i think that talking about money is one of the ways we bring light into all the dark places and change this for the better.

i mostly don’t talk about money because it hasn’t popped into my head as a thing to talk about. or in this case, because i realized that i like people to buy my stuff because they love it and want it and the time is right, not because they are worried about me. but that, i decided, is a silly thing to worry about, because i always trust that you will do what’s right for you.

and it turns out that i do want to share where i’m at. not so that you will worry about me, or because i want or need sympathy. just because it is where i’m at and it feels important to share.

i must confess that this year has quite possibly been my hardest year yet. for two entirely different reasons. but inspiration and intuition have not led me to talk about them, so i do not.

and yet, the hard has been full of its own particular beauty, and i would not wish it away. i find that i am filled with even more love for myself, my sense of worth is more solid, and i am more and more able to access joy & possibility & wonder in moments when i would have previously thought them well out of reach.

what i feel moved to say today is this:

be gentle with yourself. if and as you can.

it’s hard to be alive sometimes. but you are doing a darn good job at it.

1

did you know that she used to have a twinkle in her eye? it ran away one day and got lost in a field of flowers. the twinkle wanted to come home, it really did, but it nestled underneath a daisy for a nap and was wooed on awakening by a passing moth who saw it and fell madly in love. they set up house together underneath an overgrown mushroom. when winter came, the twinkle grew tired of outdoor living, but it just couldn’t find its way back to its girl.

2

when i was little, i spent a long time in a burn unit in ann arbor. years later, do you know what i remember most? i remember that i got to ride in a helicopter. i remember that one of my very first meals consisted of a hamburger and strawberry shortcake – and my mom let me eat the shortcake even though i hadn’t finished all my dinner. i remember trick-or-treating. i remember the art & play room. i remember playing with water and fat syringes and a dinner tray; i used the syringes to move water from one compartment to another. the days in a hospital can be long, so when you join the story club, part of your payment will be used to help me gift stories to children in the hospital. (i was going to give the story club, but now i may buy books from my favorite local children’s bookstore and give them to hospitals instead.)

3

i had the most delicious idea earlier this week. there is still a suggested price for the story club, but i am now inviting you to pay what delights you, whether that is the suggested price or another one. the story club is – and is going to be – full of possibility & wonder & magic, and it seems a shame for money to be a reason to not be part of it. i am over-the-moon-delighted about this idea. i have been smiling ever since it came to me.

years ago, i went to see a shaman for a soul retrieval.

i was generally skeptical about everything, including shamans, and i didn’t see how it was possible for a soul to be missing or to have missing pieces. but i went because on her website, she talked about feeling like something was missing.

i felt like something was missing, so i figured that at the very least, it would make a good story. plus, i was pretty comfortable with doing things that were out of the ordinary in the name of alternative healing. (i think my old coworkers still remember when i licked a paper towel every month and sent it to someone to diagnose and send me herbs and such back. i know my sister amy does. i suspect all her med school classmates do too.)

i remember two things from that session.

first, she told me that my family was known for its intellect but that i was going to find a way to work that included body & spirit.

the first part was true, which made me think “maybe there is something to this”. the second part gave me hope that i would find my way.

second, when she scanned my sixth chakra, she told me that the voices in my head had turned vicious.

that was also true. only i hadn’t even noticed. they had been there for so long that i had grown accustomed to them. they seemed normal and expected. i had somehow missed that over time, they had gone from critical to cruel to vicious.

when i look back, i think that was the first small step on my journey toward love & compassion.

there was something about having someone tell me that the voices in my head were vicious that helped me take a step back and realize that a) they were voices and not the whole truth and that b) something else might be possible.

because sometimes i so wish i could sit down with you and share a story over a cup of coffee, i thought i would do so in the form of a video.

in case you don’t like video, here’s the short version.

i have been through a lot of hard in my life.

one of the ways i made it though all the hard years and experiences – and the way i continue to make it through – is by using the power of imagination and story.

i write the stories i need to read when things are hard.

my tiny stories come from the part of me that always believes in hope & joy & magic & possibility & wonder.

no matter how hard things get.

regardless of whether everything around me seems to indicate that they are impossible and improbable.

i share my stories because i want to remind YOU of hope & joy & magic & possibility & wonder.

i want you to have stories that you can use as a lighthearted reminder, a touchstone, for the moments when they seem impossibly far away.

i don’t know about you, but i used to find it hard to listen to my body. well, i don’t know if it’s that i had a hard time exactly; it was more that i didn’t really like to do it.

i never trusted my body or the information it provided. it was my mind that was in charge; my body was just a tool for my mind to use.

my body seemed to be the most contrary thing.

it wanted me to rest when i had things to do. it got hungry when i had just eaten or when i was right in the middle of something or when i did not have time to stop and eat. it was always pointing out nagging aches and pains. it had problems that i could not get rid of – like allergies or a lack of energy.

over the years, i learned how to ignore it.

when i did listen to it, i treated it like this annoying thing that didn’t really know what it wanted. “no, you’re not in pain. i don’t have time.” “no, you’re not hungry. you’ve eaten enough.” “no. no. no.”

i spent most of my time living in my mind.

the only thing i really did that consistently took me out of my mind was trail running. that was why i loved it. everything was quiet and all i could think about was my feet on the trails.

even then, i never really focused on how my body was feeling other than to appreciate that it could run.

after i took my first reiki class, i started giving myself a reiki treatment every day.

those treatments were the first time that i really took the time to sit and pay attention to myself at all. (which is not to say that i didn’t sit, just that i never paid attention.)

as i paid more and more attention, i began to realize that my body was not out to get me.

in fact, it was actually more loving and supportive than my mind.

while my mind was saying, “you’re fat,” my body was saying, “sweetie, you’re hungry; you need to eat.”

while my mind was saying, “you need to do/be/have more,” my body was saying, “sweetie, you’re burnt out; you need to rest.”

while my mind was saying, “you can’t do the things you want to do,” my body was saying, “sweetie, you’re on the wrong road; you might want to rethink this.”

when i started listening to my body, it was like finding this great new way to get information on myself.

if you’ve read about my reiki sessions or done a reiki session with me, you know that i invite you to set aside the hour to relax, to pay attention to yourself, to see what you notice.

i do this because it helps anchor you in the experience.

i also do this because it gives you the opportunity and the permission to relax and pay attention to your body.

when you pay attention to your body, you’re telling yourself that your body is important.

it is important.

it’s important to show it care and consideration.

it’s important to affirm its importance. when you do, it gives your body a chance to talk to you.

if reiki isn’t your thing, there are lots of other ways to do this.

you can try yoga or meditation.

you can take a one song dance break.

you can use a gentle touch.

you can take a few minutes to just notice what’s going on with your body.

all you really need is a little attention and curiosity.