Hidden moments.

March 20, 2015

secret message hannah in mirror

She sits in the mini van after being told another’s truth. A truth that was a mind over a heart. The rain is pouring down and tears ask her to look between rain drops.


In Chinese mind and heart are the same word.

She struggles to untangle so she can understand with her head. She wants her mind to explain her feelings away. She wants so deeply to have words to make it all find some sense. Offer her ease in yet another transition into herself.

Her heart and mind have never been separate. This is not something she can take apart, even for a moment.

She is xin. She walks with xin. She often acts in ways that are seen as irrational by others because not separating mind from heart is big feelings and wild living and so much. She loves deep. She is a playful, sensual lover. Her xin is her guide every time she laughs.

She knows that there is no separating the mind and heart. They beat and breathe as one. They speak together. She knows they speak together.

She doesn’t have to understand the decisions of others, all she needs to find is the compassion inside of it.

Through the glass she sees a woman on the side of the road holding up a sign, asking for help. Money. A glance. Who knows.

She digs into her pockets and pulls out every bit of cash she can find. A twenty, a couple of ones, a five. Rolling down the window she catches her tears and slips the wad of crumpled bills into the woman’s hands.

“Bless you.”

She hears. Bless you. Through the raindrops. Keep looking through the rain drops.


She knows she will have to say goodbye to the butterflies. The ones that came before the truth that now changes her next steps. Again. She needs to be more careful when letting others hold her xin and not lose compassion inside of fear.

As the van moves through the puddles she thinks about what she will say to her boys as they are becoming men. How she will talk to them about holding a woman’s xin with such tenderness and joy.

What will she say to them about trust? Trust feels endangered. She wants them to know trust. To gift it to every woman they love, whether for five hours or five years or a lifetime.

She wants them to know that the mind and the heart are not separate, they exist as one beautiful, confusing, lush, mesmerizing, compassionate, flowing note.

The windshield wipers go faster and the moments become hidden from her story.



February 26, 2015

prayer hands


true name. true self. truth is my name. bow to the truth that exists. i see the divinity in you.

inhale sat. exhale nam. through your nose. it is mantra. it is truth. it is prayer.

satnam is prayer that moves you from the hard places into the ability to do it.

satnam is your truth and your divinity. heart and mind and body together.


who are you becoming?

she is spirit guide. she is your truth. she is beckoning you, ever so gently.

what does she want to invite you towards?

let her speak, guide, open.

she is your true name as was your past self. you grow of each. bow to your now as the prayer of who you are becoming is told. record the prayer.


capture the sacred of who you are becoming in photograph.

think about growing up and out. think about heart center, hands in prayer or lifted to sky.

you are growing into her, can you see her?

turn the camera around on yourself or use gorillacam app on your phone as a timer.

don’t be afraid to explore and push an edge. naked shoulders or belly. scarves draped. lipstick bright. let her guide your photo shoot. let the she you are becoming be there. soon she will become part of your past story as she is rebirthed over and over.

what does she want you to know?


and breathe. satnam. the prayer of your truth. the light of your divinity.

The Circle Officially Begins Sunday.

The above is a prompt from Magic Making Circle, a group where women gather together for 6 months to explore, create, guide, share, nurture, unearth, feel, manifest, journey.

Women loving other women without judgement is one of the most healing things we can experience. This is the kind of circle I gather. These are the women who show up.

Some of the women have been sharing short videos talking about their experience in the last circle and why they are coming back for more. You can watch them and sign up over here.

We officially start March 1st inside of our FB group and the prompts will begin to flow to inboxes on March 8th as we begin with our Sunday blessings.

This is where I will be for the next 6 months. This is my circle. My virtual home. These are the women who change me every time.

I say yes. Oh yes. This is why we find our bravery and faith.



A study in love.

February 25, 2015

moth mug

:: “Moth is the master of disguise and is reminding you to be aware that you could be hiding from yourself. Are you using your emotions to keep yourself hidden from others? Is it time that you transform your emotional energy away from drama and into something closer to your heart? Have faith in your journey and trust that although things seem to be complicated right now – you will eventually see the light. Use your heart to guide you.” (Spirit Animal Totems)

hannah nyc

:: When I was 7 I was obsessed with plants. Growing them for science projects in closets and talking to them. I wrote puppet shows and recorded them. I loved researching, studying. I went to the library and learned that eating dairy might be giving me the sinus and ear infections that had become chronic.

I loved books. Stacks of books. The study. I would play school. Chalkboards made me have a kid high.

In college I chose poetry classes, voice and diction, Shakespeare. I was in awe of the study.

When I realized that I held some seriously old anger towards my father I read everything I could get my hands on around anger. I made a practice to study anger.

I have studied health, food, coaching. Marketing. Being a woman. Abundance. Manifesting. The moon. Stardust. Meditating. Vulnerability.

This January, at 40 years old I realized that I have never studied the one thing that beckons me more than any other. That I can feel in my cells. That teases me, fertilizes me, pulses in me.


I have never studied love.

It always seemed like a given. Love.

Just love. Born with love. We are love. Love, love, love.

But I struggle inside of love. I have fed myself on crumbs in the love department. I thought in my twenties that having kids would heal all my stuff around love.

And, nope.

So for February I decided to do two things. The first was to vision around love. To find the feelings. To let the Universe know that I was opening to love and I wouldn’t try to control what that looked like. (Yeah, and cue my friends shaking their heads, laughing.) The second was to gently go on a study of love. To let most of it come to me, with eyes wide open to receive the study that came forth.

vision page breathless

:: A trip to NYC to study love and integrate all the parts of me. It went something like this…

Allow kids to lead the dance of time and space, be introverts and cuddle up in hotel with take-out. Explore city and favorite restaurants with open gratitude. Pay for not one single drink and meet every spirit guide you were meant to. The gorgeous bartender from my childhood home of North Carolina, the beautiful woman celebrating her news from Princeton along side my #‎coyoteloon celebrations, the amazing man who sent a selfie of he and I to his partner in CA, the designer outside of a fashion week event who told me about what living in Chelsea is like and looked at me with such faith in my crazy desires, the couple who sat next to me at brunch and told me their love story of second partnership after divorce. And buying pretzels for the boys at LIRR before leaving the 13 year old says, “Mom. You are the most happy and chatty and way too open person.” Know that this is a compliment. Plan your trip back (without kids this time) for another dose of immense magic. ‪#‎ilovethislifenow‬

Ponder the connection between love and magic and dreams.


:: How I want to feel inside of love with another. This one trapped me. And then I found her words.

nayirrah 1

:: I call bullshit on the whole love yourself first before you can find or allow love with another thing. I read that over and over this month. Here is what I think. Love is not our issue. We are born with love in our souls for ourselves. Then we become imprinted with touch points of pain and trauma and fear. Those touchpoints make us scared. They ask us to seek validation from others. They make us run and hide from our heart’s desires. They create chaos and drama. They create the struggle to feel that love. Yes, feel it.

I don’t need to love myself first, that is a given. I was born into that love, recycled into that love, my existence is that love. But there will be times when I struggle to feel it. What I do need to do is heal some old pain points. Integrate them. Feel them. I am learning that I need to know who the hell I am before I can be in partnership without losing parts of myself.

Give myself space and stillness so I can gift my beloved with the same inside of love.

Have compassion for the one person who I give the hardest time to.

I need to go out to eat with myself often and not take out my phone and talk to people around me. I need to have experiences that affirm my crazy wild sense of self. I need to be all parts of myself, visionary and mom and wild and free and safe and cozy.

Kind of like commenting on someone’s photo and telling them they should smile – maybe remember that smiling is not the only sign of joy and that we all have different ways of showing up and expressing and showing our feelings. I suggest you don’t tell anyone they need to love themselves before loving another, let them journey, let them make huge mistakes, let them flail a bit and become ungrounded. Then be there. Love them up. Give them space. They are journeying through and feeling so much and like the moth to light, gorgeous love already is.

Gorgeous love already is.


:: When Patrick and I separated it was the scariest time of my life and also the one that I felt most sure of because we needed a new way of being in partnership, in parenting, in finding magic that we had lost for ourselves. My love for him and the way we have journeyed together and still are as ever changing beings is deep. Flawed. Messy. Raw. But we hold love as our guide. Our totem. Our feeling.

Soul contracts aren’t ours to decide. They are written in the stars long before we touch down in these bodies. Of this I am certain. The more we try to control the contract, the more pain we pull in.

Surrender is the intersection between acceptance and change.

Surrender feels like a beloved.

nayirrah 2

:: I have been scared. And in that fear pushed people away who my heart loves deeply. There are times when I can’t connect to my kids because I am unable to find myself inside of this huge iteration. Barely breathing.

The little one will climb in my lap and say, “Mama, we are so good here. We are just so good.”

That’s when I find my exhale.

I come from the exhale.

The longer the exhale, the easier it is to breathe inside of the changes inside of the love inside of the call towards beloved inside of the study of love.

And there are 3 days left in February. I can only imagine how much more there is to learn.










dock in maine

Preparing for my retreat with my Magic Making Cirlce this past September I gave myself 3 days alone before anyone would arrive.

I first saw the lake as I pulled in the narrow (scary) driveway in the pouring rain in my van filled to the top with food, pillows, bedding, decorations, altar supplies, sheepskin rugs and every part of my Loft I could tuck in. A huge lodge with several cabins and a view that my made heart flutter were my gratitudes for making it all the way down that crazy little dirt road.

I had groceries to get out and coolers filled with frozen meatloaf and muffins, so I unloaded stuff out of the van and onto the cart that pulled supplies to the lodge. That’s when I realized there were no keys. Nothing locked. And I was alone. And soaking wet. For three days in this huge openness.

Nothing locked. City. Girl.

The first night I sauteed apples listening to the wind ring the porch bell and watching the storm that had forced me inside to do just what I thought I had wanted. Be alone.

Alone has been a journey that brings me to my knees. And one that I have known I must be inside of, to know myself in deeper ways. To find my power and strength without the voices of others. And I was being tested hard that night.

I settled in and barely slept in that lodge without keys, thinking of my game plan if some crazy person tried to come in at night while I was sleeping. I put my keys under my pillow because my mini van key is pretty fierce.

The next morning at sunrise, my coffee and I found our way to the dock, which would become my morning and afternoon ritual for the week. My church. I had arrived at the retreat not just as a guide but to be guided. I was feeling myself in my own skin, feeling fear being alone, wrestling with questions and longings. Questions burning on my surface.

The sun set on the second night after a day filled with moving furniture and trying to make a dusty lodge look a tiny bit like The Loft, and that is when I heard the coyote-bird. I texted my friends, “Um, is there such a thing as a coyote-bird cause I am freaking out a little bit.”

That’s when I learned about loons. Our spirit animal while we retreated on the lake. Their sound moves right into your body, it finds all the spaces left untouched and opens them. As magical creatures do.

That loon became affectionately know as the coyoteloon and by the end of our time at the lake there were 3 loons celebrating with the women who had come to know themselves more.


On our free day, Jenny (who was the creator of magical decorations and crafts during the retreat) and I went into town to relax and feel the space that Maine gives to your heart.

On the drive I saw a blue canoe on the side of the road for sale. My stomach leaped when I saw her. The most beautiful blue, silver linings, huge.

“Jenny, I think that is my canoe.”

I am wild and impulsive and scared often of that part of me, as it has been dampened over the years.

Jenny calmly said, “Ok, let’s check it out on the way back.”

She did not tell me I was crazy or remind me I lived in the city in a Loft with nowhere to put a canoe. She let me have my wild.

And wild it was. I bought the canoe. (That is a whole other crazy funny and amazing story.) We put her in the lake and I felt like I was home. Not in Maine or on that lake but in trusting myself, one of my deepest longings.

Jenny brought the canoe home with her to Vermont to use on their lake and love up. It was that easy.

What if it could be easy?

The canoe was so heavy, and it made no sense. But it became a great story and an even better friendship.

We named her #coyoteloon. She is beautiful.

The canoe and Jenny allowed me to feel like the most amazing creature on this earth that day because I was safe inside my wild. I was free and held and loved.

Since our canoe partnership Jenny and I have been dreaming of other ways to continue to feel safe and wild and free. She is an artist, dreamer, doer. I am a coach, visioner, doer.

We are growing #coyoteloon from a canoe into something much bigger.

Our launch is on Valentine’s Day through Instagram. Follow us here. Our first product launch will be exclusively through Instagram.

And a look at what we are dreaming can be found here.


“I beg you, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.” ― Rainer Maria Rilke

This quote became the theme I used for our time at the lake. For the retreat that gathered 26 women from all over the world, Scotland included.

I was living the biggest question of my life when I arrived on that lake, anxiety and fear had been holding me for too long. I remember sitting on the dock, feeling so deeply into the question as though I was growing it inside of my body. Every morning I would take my coffee to the edge of the smooth water and the question would start to feel more and more like it was a part of me.

The coyoteloon would howl.

I would breathe.

The question without begging for an answer was the most peace I have ever felt.

One month later I was living inside of the answer, as though the lake had touched a part of my soul that was finally able to stop searching, controlling, fighting.

It was surrender. The lake was my prayer.

And magic and wildness and safety are my blessings. I am changed. As love does. As it does.



Each week in the circle I make a Q&A video based on questions that come in. This video was around kids on social media, charging for your services, a question around the prompt we were working on for the week (She Said blog post and Amazing Day references) and a question that they almost always asked… how I was doing. (There is nothing like the circles that gather in this magic. Nothing.)

If you make it to the end you will be rewarded with a cameo from Lucas and me grabbing my boobs. Real life meets my work.

You can read more about the circle over here.

We start in March. It will be magical. It already is.

And I am driven by mad love currently.



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The girl on the sidewalk.

February 4, 2015

hannah want me

She walks home on her own. A small frame, long curly black hair. No more than 7 or 8.

I meet her in the same place each day as I am driving to pick up the boys and she is crossing at a stoplight.

The snow had piled up and she crossed, on this day, over to the shoveled sidewalk surrounded by the foot and a half of snow on either side.

I sit at the light and watch her little self navigate the icy patches.

Then she stops. Stands still. Backs up slowly.

Her head turns towards the snow on her left side and she takes a giant step into the snow. She has found someone’s tracks making a path through the deep snow.

With such concentration she pulls each boot up and into the next footprint. About 6 or 8 steps and she is back on the sidewalk.

She looks up and her face holds pure happiness and thrill. I smile. Then laugh. I catch tears in the back of my eyes.

She catches my eye. Smiles. And continues down the sidewalk in her own rhythm.

I want that.

I want that.

I want that.

With grace and careful footsteps.

I want that.



to be a wing.

February 1, 2015

ask for heart. it is hard to grow.

ask for heart. moth souls take time.

to be a wing. resistance in daylight.

to be a wing. love inside the moonlight.

ask for heart. she has powerful faith in the mystery of the universe.

to be a wing. fly for heart.

(inspired by nayyirah waheed “do not disrespect your heart. by hearing what it needs. and giving it the opposite.” and my moth spirit guide who is my faith)




“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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