“The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.” ~ Carl Sagan

Since I was young I have believed for better or worse in my muchness. My nickname was motormouth. I demanded a lot of attention. I like to think I was funny and entertaining in gaining this attention, but now as a parent, I am guessing it wasn’t  all entertaining.

When I was young ‘too much’ was more like being sooooo much (it wasn’t heady it was  a soul knowing), so infused into the world around me, so desiring friendships and fun adventures. I wanted to be inside of everything going on. To climb on every dirt and sand pile, to ride my bike on all the paths, to know what all the kids were up to.

I tell my clients who hold this belief that they are too much, that they possess a gorgeous and magical thing. I tell them they are sooooooo much. So much beauty and realness and love and sadness and all the things wrapped up into what is usually a highly sensitive body.

Processing the world in highly sensitive skin is going to include a bunch of fuck ups and a whole lotta hot loving. It feels manic and low and every space inbetween.

It is feeling so much that you often talk too much, can’t sit still, stumble over explaining your feelings or just need to go quiet and numb for a while to process what it all is. So much feeling.

And what if you had someone who could hold all of you while whispering in your ear that they have you?

“I’ve got you baby. I’ve got you.”

The ones who can hold all your sensitivity and all those he/she encounters in the world without taking it on, without thinking you are crazy (ahem) and without judging. Who can wrap your sensitivity into words that make sense. Who forgives you when you spin out of control. Who understands that your feelings become your reason and that doesn’t make you weak or wrong.

What if you had someone who trusts you and your feelings as soul-journeying, not as being too much to be loved?

Along this path we walk, these human manifestations who can hold you, will show up. They may journey for a long hike, a forever walk or a sprint. But they will hold you. They will teach you that you are love. They will ground you. They will call you back when you fall down the holes that are dark and long.

They are heart and pure love and human star dust.

They come in all forms. A child with a heart that was born to teach you a new depth of love. Friends who believe in every bit and piece of your make up and are the ones who reframe and catch your tears and become containers for your laughter. Lovers who hold you tighter when you are afraid and are intoxicated by your joy and humbled by your love for them. A stranger who holds your gaze, smiles, and infuses you with confidence that your skin is beautiful.

And there will be days when no one can hold you. When no one can convince you that your feelings aren’t eating you alive. The days when your nervous system is on overload and the only way back to you is you.

To become the one who trusts you and your feelings as soul-journeying, as star dust.

You travel through it. Accept it. Surrender. Make a prayer. You hold you.

You feel it all, every damn bit of those feelings, with every speck of your stardust.

The prayer becomes infused into the Universe’s voice.

That voice will be heard when leaves blow, coffee brews, babies cry, horns honk. It is your surrender to all the magic of the knowing that you have you.

“I’ve got you baby. I’ve got you.”


Making Space for Surrender is where we will journey through the feeling, accepting, surrender, prayer and change.

We start February 1st.


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Doubt. And the moth.

January 22, 2015


Friday afternoon I find myself in bed for a nap, not my usual move. Naps are not the easiest thing for me right now. I am in this constant go-go-go state.

A few hours later my blood felt hot and my skin was shivering.

Fever. Back ache. Just ouch.

I cancelled my plans and surrendered to the jabbing pain in all my limbs, tossing and turning, grabbing motrin, feeling crazy alone.

The things we forget when living alone, like what happens when we get sick. Or can’t hang the basketball hoop we are so excited to give the kids because we have no ladder and can’t reach.

When I feel like I can’t mistep, it isn’t safe to stop, to feel, to cry, to process – because I am taking care of these little lives – something bigger than my control comes down and places its hand over my heart.

And so the fever, from heart to body. Shivering. Sweating. Freezing.

Humbled into needing when I am scared to need.

I doubt all of it. Did I really think I could do this? Run my business, parent three kids, maintain the Loft, feed us, keep us happy?

The fever. So alone.

In the morning soup and coconut water from the man who co-parents these amazing kids with me. Who has never made me feel wrong for my decision to be with myself.

Blessed. I am blessed.

Doubt. A shit-ton.

I can’t be sick, I need to work, to go, to move, to cloud my head in busy.

An entire weekend in the bed of clouds. Freezing. Sweating. Doubting all of me. The kind of torture a fever can often bring on to the mind. In just 48 hours. In just 48 hours I feel wiped of my faith, of my rainbows, of my beauty. I struggle to look in the mirror as I pass it by.

When the fever lifts I feel wrong, out of sorts, sad. I can’t find the pulse of my magic after having been drained.

I ask the Universe to help me find my love. In the form of a butterfly. I ask for a butterfly. Within 48 hours. (Read the prompt here.)

The first 24 go by and I am impatient. I have never had a manifesting timeline before. 6 months is my window, though I do find things appear within three days most of the time. 48 hours feels like so much to believe in.

I imagine for the first 24 hours every possible way the butterfly will find its way to me. I am in a loop of controlling it, of wanting to make it happen my way. The butterfly will be blue, like the one on Chloe’s crib, which we never used. It will come to me this way, this way, this way, this way.

After 24 hours I am impatient. It isn’t coming. I have lost my magic. And then the release on the grasp of control of everything I have been trying to control. I surrender. I cry every 10 minutes. I forget about the butterfly and feel myself letting go of control. I know in my head it is an opening but all it feels like post fever, all alone, is the deepest pain. I cry some more.

On the way to bring the boys to school we have to stop at their dad’s house to grab their lunchboxes. We walk in and there is a package waiting for me. I urge the boys to hurry so we aren’t late and go into the kitchen to open the package.

Inside there is a little blue book. I open to the first page. I cry. Again. (Try ovulating post fever and seriously, the tears!)

I know in my head it is a moth. I asked for a butterfly. I was sent a moth.

Giving up control to faith is the lesson I am here to learn over and over.

I Google… is a butterfly the same as a moth?

My best friend texts me :: hey you’ve been super quiet and I am worried. i can give you space but this just doesn’t feel like you.

I tell her about the moth.

I tell her about the butterfly.

She tells me that she wants me to find softness for myself. She knows that the moth is my butterfly.

And she knows that the butterfly came to me as a moth.

Later that day I am in the coffee shop and run into a girlfriend. I catch her up on my heart, she catches me up on hers.

Then she talks about butterflies.

Doubt. A shit-ton.

Blessed. I am blessed.

In just 48 hours.



January 20, 2015


It is 4:50-somethingish.


I feel the heat from his face in my ear. “What baby?”

“I love you.”

He kisses my cheek and rolls over back to sleep.


I drop them at the corner of school. The little one has an extra heavy bag to carry and return. The big one jumps out of the van.

“Eli, I am picking you up today. Normal spot.”


“Eli, please help Lucas, he has that bag.”


“Eli, are you sure you have your lunch?”


“Please don’t run.”

“Bye Mom.”

“Love you. Bye.”

They cross over with the crossing gaurd and I watch Eli break into his usual run with Lucas struggling behind him under the weight of the bag. Eli stops, looks back, pauses. Lucas catches up. Eli breaks into another run as Lucas lags behind again. Stop. Look back. Pause. Catch up. Run.



I learned that the way to get her to talk to me is to drive. I do my best thinking in that van, she does her best talking.

“Mom, did I even tell you the story of why I put her (best friend) in my phone as Chewbacca?”

“I assumed it was an inside joke.”

“Kinda. Well no. OK, just, here, this is what happened.”

The story weaves in tween style, lots of Okays and ums and oh-waits. I actively listen as I drive.

“Oh my god Mom, do you even know who Chewbacca is????”




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open space

We start: February 1st, 3 emails a week
Where: Virtual, wherever you are.
How long: 5 weeks.
Why: So we can take a deeper breath inside of our lives after the exhale. So we can say yes to that open space.

$49.00   Add to Cart

Surrender: To give yourself up to a new emotion or course or influence. To melt into and open up to…

I was remembering a story about my boys from two years ago. One morning Eli (then 7) asks Lucas (then 4) who he loves more, himself or mama? Lucas being four and his world wrapped around his mother says, “Mama.”

Eli then goes into a speech about how you have to love yourself the most. If you love yourself the most then you can love other people. He made a good case to the little one on why loving himself was the first step to mama love. The four year old just glazed over and I teared up.

This child is my little spirit guide in matters of the heart and spirit. He is so much like me. And we both struggle with explosive feelings and deep desires for surrender inside of the struggle that we tend to create for ourselves.

The other night as he was doing his homework he throws down his pencil and whines at me, “Mooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaam. I just can’t finish my homework until I organize my chi.” And then he asks to meditate. He has grown up watching Avatar and Korra as his source of spirituality and they haven’t let us down.

I surrendered and lit the candle and put on the music and watched as his body calmed down inside of his own surrender. I have been feeling like such an unfocused, trying to be all things for everyone mom right now, my chi is pretty unorganized.

eli and lucas

This is where we can make space for allowing, releasing and simply being in our now.

Each time I look at my calendar and think about what program I’d like to run there is always a direct connection to where I am. Over the last two years I’ve worked on creating a ritual, a practice of moving into surrender. And right now I am needing it again. I need to go into my practice, as I will again and again.

We aren’t perfect, flawless. We are change. We are beginning and iterating and choosing often at a pace so rapid our nervous systems can’t keep up.

Surrender is the slow down. The space. The in between. The forgiveness. The prayer.

prayer hands

Surrender is the intersection between acceptance and change.

As we find ourselves pushing against and fighting what we are feeling, we draw in more of that which we push. We continue to obsess, replay, hear the mind chatter that keeps us stuck. That old story plays over and over and over. We become trapped.

There is an ease when we learn how to embrace surrender. Feeling without fight. Fear and struggle are met with truth and grace. Releasing and allowing feel spectacular with the flow from stuck into surrender. Surrender is an entry point for joy. Surrender can guide you into stillness, moving, creating, acting and flowing.

Surrender is no longer pushing against :: My belly (insert body part of choice or flaw of choice) is so flabby I could never be loved (love myself).

Surrender is no longer playing the same old story :: I have nothing unique to offer the world because I’m not creative, smart, worldly, skinny, beautiful…

Surrender is no longer living in the what-if :: What if I could lose these last 10 pounds, be a size 4, make more money, get my partner to understand, have more time…

Surrender is melting into, opening up, releasing and that moment when you are ready to forgive yourself.

“Hannah’s program taught me how to shift my judgements into truths. Practicing this skill has profoundly shifted my thinking, reduced anxiety, and helped me experience greater joy in my everyday life. I highly recommend this program to anyone who is ready to surrender all the messy details of what’s holding you back and start walking in the purity of truth.” ~ Britta Alexander

budha rose

Imagine your life if you could move past the stories that hold you in fear and excuses?

Imagine your relationships, your business, your spirit?

Where in your world is there an echo of surrender and what feelings does it leave you with?

Most of us are afraid to shine. We let our fear overtake us so we can’t move forward. We are paralyzed with shame, with trying to seem perfect and doing what is expected rather than what brings us joy.

We have a beautiful truth that wants to be heard. It is clogged by indecision, perfectionism, fear and doubts.

Are you ready to surrender to the struggle?

Would you like to allow and let-go without feeling like you are constantly pushing against and rather start to flow with?

Are you willing to allow grace (love, ease, fluidity, forgiveness, kindness) into that space?

We will release. We will move into our light. It won’t be easy but it will bring us closer to the ease we desire each day when we wake.

catching light

The How:

  • We will work with a weekly theme of moving from the story that is keeping us stuck and locked into fear and into writing our new one.
  • Three emails from me each week to support your journey for each of the 5 weeks.
  • Prompts with soulwork to take at your own pace
  • Videos from me sharing my stories of surrender.
  • A FB group where we will come together and share our journey and deepen our support. I will be very present and actively helping to prompt you deeper into your knowing.
  • Gentle power, that is how we will enter into surrender, gentle power.

Prep week begins Sunday, February 1st…

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 “Hannah has changed the way I breathe.” ~ Maria

“Thank you for giving us your all, it allows us to do the same for ourselves.” ~ Izabela

“I didn’t even realize how far away I had traveled from my passions and joy until Hannah entered my life. What did I do without her?”~ Joanie

“The work you do is magical and impacts so much on the lives of the women that take part… including me.” ~ Amy

“I value your words so much, they always speak to my heart. Thank you, I get so tired of reading other people’s words all the time but yours are always special.” ~ Jackie

plaid shirt


Tell me a story.

January 12, 2015

hannah tattooTell me a story. Tell me about your tattoos. Tell me the first time you were brave. Tell me about your bones. Tell me about the moment you first screamed ‘yes.’ Tell me why you love him. Tell me about when you were 18. Tell me about the first time you touched. Tell me why…


The demons of satisfaction.

January 7, 2015

hannah satisfaction

The alarm goes off at 6:47am and I snooze it twice. The boys finally climb out of bed and I lay there, back aching from being joined in bed by two active sleepers all night. I don’t come up the stairs until 7:55am knowing I forgot to set the coffee pot last night. My head aches from the demons that danced around at 1:00am and held onto me whispering of another panic attack.

I am in awe of the beauty that I live in as I go over to the sink filled with dirty dishes and start to scoop the coffee with a large spoon into the filter. Apples and peanut butter for one, cereal for the other. The last cup of caffeine for me, my heart has asked me to stop stimulating it out of rhythm for long enough.

I sip, they put on their uniforms and shoes. This process used to take a good hour with my middle child, the one that would bring me to my knees in tears, the one that is just like me. Now he says that things feel easier and he wants to be helpful. This kid and I know in our hearts that things are easier now, even in the sadness.

8:27am and they put their coats on while I grab my shoes. The little one picks up his bag and says, “Hey, you forgot to lunch me mama.” Lunch me? Oh shit, lunches.

I spin into my head. We will be late. He is a better parent than I am. How do I even run a business if I can’t remember to make lunches? I have three minutes. My head aches. I want to puke. I am too much. ADD as an adult can weaken the best morning.

Bread. Turkey. They tuck the sandwiches into the lunch boxes, one Batman and one blue stripes. We look at the clock. 8:30am. Three minutes to make the lunches. It feels so easy. They are filled with such love for me I am overflowing.

I pray that I can hold off the panic attack.

8:51am they climb out of the van, tears sting my eyes. I remember her text months ago, half joking (but she really did), “I pray for your satisfaction.”

My demons are of satisfaction. The panic attacks are returning when life is threatening more happiness than I know how to hold.

She also said that when I was ready for the love story that it would come. My response was, “FUCK no.” My demons are of satisfaction. Love? I get lost in love. I am lonely in love. I’ll take the soap opera, the drama, the noise, the chaos, the pain, the pushing, the fight, the sadness. Love.

A few months ago I sent a text. “I think I was put on this earth to love deeper than I understand yet and I pray that some of that love has helped you to heal.” Love. My demons are of satisfaction.

I keep drawing in more happiness than I feel entitled to. I have been lonely for as long as I can find memories. I believe I was born with loneliness as my guide. My teacher for the years that I walk this life. I was also born with a joy that feels unmeasurable, each time I laugh I am refilled.

This song plays and I stop. I listen. This is me. I am her.

And you laugh like you’ve never been lonely
That’s alright honey
That’s alright with me
Oh you laugh like there’s hope in the story
That’s alright honey
That’s alright with me
Oh you laugh like I’ll be there to hold you always
Always here
I’m always here, always here

And you love like you’ve always been lonely
That’s alright honey
That’s alright with me
Oh you love him with all of your body
That’s alright honey
That’s alright with me
Oh you love him like he’ll be there for always
Always honey yeah, always near
Always honey, always near
Always honey, always near

My full moon wish was to pull love towards me through space and stillness, to quiet a mind that creates stories of non-truths as protection. 10:13am I have filled my belly with water, my intuition with each glass.

And you love like you’ve always been lonely…

Always. Never. Trust. Time. Love.

11:01am. Stillness and words in-between the wake ups, the feedings, the drop offs and pick ups, the feeling like you are always forgetting something, someone.

The in-between craving being held because you know that satisfaction is there.

In the stillness and space of being wrapped in arms of lover and friend. Hands running through your hair, the touch of skin. The words reminding you of your laugh when you hear its sound in your ear.

The part of you that will journey with your loneliness.

And you laugh like you’ve never been lonely…




The taste of a cigarette.

December 29, 2014

star cup

The taste of a cigarette is a small New England college. The crisp air as we stand outside the theatre doors on break from rehearsal. Smoking a few drags from his cigarette, it tastes like him.

It tastes like the morning cup of coffee in the smoking room where the curtain hung across the doorway catching the smoke from the rest of the house as we would all pile in and start to talk about everything, before Google. It tastes like a time that I visit in my mind when old decorated journals crack open, notes falling out onto the floor, before cell phones.

It tastes like I imagine Mel Gibson tastes if one were to taste him. It tastes like youth never believing that one day forty would be the answer to that question they ask. It tastes like the first boy I ever kissed, sharp and stinging my tongue.

It tastes like an occasional guilty pleasure that buzzes my head as I stand on the deck, phone to ear, listening to her words promising me that I can do this.

It tastes like saying good-bye and road trips in half broken cars and peanut butter and jelly camping trips with them.

It tastes like this new life and remembering the one that brought me here. It tastes like a small New England college where I was began.


Join me in Spirits of Joy as writing prompts, such as this one around taste and memory, are added to our vision book creations.

We start on the January Full Moon, the 4th, for 30 days.

Under the stars.


A Holiday Joy Up Gift of Days.

December 19, 2014





I always smell joy and the excitement in the air, see it in the lights that start to sparkle and taste it in the homemade applesauce simmering away on the stove. I also can feel the stress and sadnesses lingering inside of people’s energies during Holiday times. These five days together are about focusing on special moments and making memories. Taking the stress and pressures and flipping them into gratitude, love and joy!

The magic of the twinkles ::

This is a gift of 5 days of love notes and prompts and ideas to support you in a crazy time of year. You can save them or open them daily. We will come together in community over on Instagram and share pictures and thoughts and connection. #theholidayjoyup

Here is my love note to you ::

  • I believe you are amazing
  • I believe in you connecting to the special
  • I believe in the magic of all you are
  • I believe in you

A gift of days ::

  • From December 23-27th one email each morning
  • Simple words and prompts (and even a pie recipe)
  • Magic, joy, twinkles
  • A grounding, tethering, anchoring during a time when we give and are expected of so much
  • Joy because the simple is our ritual and our thoughts change everything

“Hannah has changed the way I breathe.” ~ Maria

“Thank you for giving us your all, it allows us to do the same for ourselves.” ~ Izabela

“I didn’t even realize how far away I had traveled from my passions and joy until Hannah entered my life. What did I do without her?”~ Joanie

“The work you do is magical and impacts so much on the lives of the women that take part… including me.” ~ Amy

“I value your words so much, they always speak to my heart. Thank you, I get so tired of reading other people’s words all the time but yours are always special.” ~ Jackie

“To feel that connection that exists between all of us, everywhere, is so refreshing and joyful.” – Emily

“This time has been wonderful. I met Joy like an old friend coming back into my life. I am really enjoying the visit and hope that she stays.” – Laura

“This has been the most precious of days ♥ !” – Stacy

“Thank you for these days, they will ripple into many more days to come.” – Jenn

“Focusing on joy has allowed me to encourage and old friend and totally change the way I think about situations. I’m usually negative but these past days I have learned to speak the truth in my head out loud instead of letting the negative situations take over. It has been really amazing.” – Rachel


When :: January 4th Full Moon, for 30 days of daily morning prompts in your email, around visioning and writing inside of our books

Why :: As we start to make what become vision books, powerful shifts start to happen. Parts of our lives that have been stuck, stopped, lost, come alive as we find new places in ourselves that have been longing to come out. These prompts not only become part of our books, but our daily thoughts, and allow our writing practices and businesses and love lives and mothering to expand and gain depth.

How much :: $49.00 for 30 days of prompts and a private Facebook group where we will come together to share each day’s soulwork

Add to Cart

name it

One night I was on the beach feeling my wildish self. I looked up and I saw the sky filled with more stars than I knew existed. I felt a shift inside of me that came from a year of vision work around happiness and peace in my spirit. The shift was that I could choose to be unstoppably happy. I was aware in my wildish moment, filled with this download, that the choice of this happiness which I had been glueing into my vision books would not look anything like I was trying to force it too.

I knew that choosing my unstoppable happy that night under the stars would mean that living inside of joy would bring all the feelings, and that it was time to dream again.

My dreams come inside of vision pages, the words I write when I can’t not and under the stars where the Universe kisses my tears and swirls her knowing in my belly.

I vision to find surprises wrapped into colors and phrases and deep wantings.

I vision because I deserve all of it.

I vision when nothing is making sense and I need to find my guides.

boob cut out

What I will ask of you for these 30 days ::

Make space to be here. Know yourself under the stars. Use these prompts to spend time with yourself. To light up in a new way. To discover a you that may have hidden out, buried by the stresses of daily living and lost dreams.

Create magical pages filled with words and visions and feelings that surround them. As you do this, you harness the vibrations of the Universe. You vibrate in a new way. These books become a way for you to align what you want with what you have. They create manifesting magic in your life.

spirit guide

Prompts each day that will invite you to play, explore, have fun, go deep into your spirits, fly inside of magic and create books that are so beautiful you’ll want to carry them everywhere.

  • Color stories
  • ‘I am’ which is the prompt that will become a ritual of change and acceptance
  • Beautiful dreams
  • Wantings
  • Desires
  • Awakenings
  • Words of spirit
  • Writing prompts (this is new!)
  • Inspired action prompts (yep, this is new too)
  • Healing
  • Joy
  • 30 days of prompts sent to you through your email, filled with story, photos and some videos of me chatting away and answering your questions weekly

color story blue

Through ritualized vision work we can allow each day to guide us towards living joyously, even (especially) when things are hard or challenges arise.

What will you need ::

A blank journal, I love Moleskine XL Cahier, but anything you love works beautifully. Some magazines. Ask people to start saving them for you. Go to hair salons and offices and ask for their old magazines. Check out libraries for magazine sales. A glue stick. Scissors. Some space and time.

(Bangs optional.)


will bangs change my life


Prayer for a nervous system.

December 7, 2014

hannah sadness

I got hit with a surprising amount of sadness. Apparently I still want to control when it comes, or fill myself with so many distractions that I have no time for it. Truly I prefer these distractions to the feelings that are so much my nervous system feels like it is shutting down.

All I know to do is go back into my rhythm, my practices of ritual. My prayer.

I wash the dishes. I set the coffee pot. I pour a glass of water and fight myself to drink it.

I get my camera and go in front of the bronze mirror that has become my daily window into photo sessions of a frazzled, worn, confused body.

It is where I am able to allow myself to see the reality of sadness through a lens of compassion. If only for a moment.

My nervous system is holding time with fear and a rise of cellular restructuring so deep inside I can’t yet access it.

It feels wrong somehow when it is all so damn hard and so amazing all at once.

Questions of how am I fucking up mix with celebratory decorating of space.

If I live in the gray and the white space who am I?

I want to live inside a glass of water and not make another decision about how I am feeling or who I am hurting or who isn’t adoring or who I am too much for or what it all is leading to or how to do that next thing that wants to be born or if it was stupid to put on red lipstick today of all days.

The beauty in my life in my nervous system in my heart is beyond waking into dreams and visions that I knew how to ask for.

And yet the sadness. It pulls itself up and feels like a million stars exploding from my eyes down to my vagina. It feels like pleasure and ache and longing.

The reminder that the laundry is ready to switch to the dryer as the timer goes off and the little feet go running down the hall to be the first one there, quarters tight in their hands.

The wine glass with the stain of my lips lingering as I stir the soup pot.

I sit before the bronze mirror that welcomes me back in ritual of seeing and being seen.

One more time. One more look. One more feel.

(From my Thursday morning love notes, Making Space.)