That’s the heart of being human: free will. We can choose how we respond—both to a conflict with a friend and to horrific headlines. I’m choosing not to let the outer madness destroy my inner harmony. I’m choosing to keep my light on because the world needs it.

This week, I’ve been really sitting with a phrase a mentor once taught me: “The issue is not the issue. The issue is how we relate (or connect ) to ourselves within the issue.”

When we don’t hold our boundaries… when we say “yes” but mean “no”… when we ignore that quiet inner voice, we often start to feel resentful. And what do we do? We blame the person who overstepped the boundary that we didn’t enforce.

If back-to-school season feels like a whirlwind in your house, I get it. For years, our family’s transition from summer to school mode was anything but smooth—late nights, frazzled mornings, and a lot of deep sighing.

When was the last time you did a cartwheel? Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I still could. Part of me was bracing for a crash landing—I thought my arms might give out, or I’d end up in a heap of limbs and regret.

The jaw is one of the strongest joints in the body, and we ask a lot of it - chewing, talking, and engaging all day long. Even on a good day, without added stress, it’s working hard and likely holding tension.

Try placing your hands on your jaw. See if that feels supportive. You might notice that a deep breath or sigh comes naturally. It doesn’t take much, just baby steps. These small, nurturing practices bring awareness and relief.

We lose ourselves daily—in responsibilities, in identities, in the noise of the world. Spiritually, emotionally, mentally. The real work is returning. Coming back to our bodies, back to our hearts.

How amazing would it be if the primary parent didn’t have to work when their kids were off school? I was going to just say summertime, but my kids also have a three-week winter break, a spring break, and a whole bunch of days off in between—all of which make working a 9-to-5 challenging.

It’s easier to stick with what’s familiar — to keep things the same. And that’s exactly what our ego wants us to do. The ego says: stay small. Stay in the box. Stay with the known.

But our soul — our intuition — is craving more.

Celebration, in this context, is a way of honoring what was and what is. It’s marking a transition with intentionality and meaning.

I want to honor the little things, the big milestones, and everything in between. Because here’s what I’ve noticed: as a culture, we’re not great at pausing to celebrate. Not really. Even when we do stop for a moment, we tend to move on way too fast.

Maycember: that magical time of year when May morphs into December-level chaos. Except instead of twinkly lights and cozy sweaters, we’re juggling end-of-year school tests, final projects, sports banquets, dance recitals, teacher gifts, and just an overall explosion of "lasts" and "finales"—all while trying to maintain some semblance of normal family life. Why is everything so crammed into the end of the school year?

I see this often — clients who are incredibly aware of their patterns but still can’t seem to break them, no matter how badly they want to.

My somatic journey began in my early twenties, when I became a student of Iyengar Yoga. I loved it. It started slowly — a class here and there, then weekly, and eventually, I developed a dedicated morning practice. It transformed my life. That experience was part of what inspired me to become a bodyworker.

If you're reading this and suffering from alcoholism yourself—or watching a loved one suffer—you know what I mean. My heart aches with you. It’s so painful. For the whole family. And it truly affects everyone.

The airport is one of my favorite places to do it. There’s something about the pace, the variety, the in-between-ness of it all.

She did. She tucked me in—probably better than I’ve ever tucked her in.
She doesn’t know (yet) what a gift she gave me.

You know how some people love to feel needed? That’s a special kind of person. Not me. I crave freedom.

There was a time when overwhelm would send me into forcing and pushing harder. But these days? I’ve learned to breathe and listen.

By taking the time now to express your wishes in writing, you can ensure that your final days reflect your values and desires, making this journey as peaceful and dignified as possible.

I have learned, not just through my death doula and midwife journey but also in life in general, that we must befriend that which we fear.