a great need.



Of a great need

We are all holding hands

And climbing.

Not loving is a letting go


The terrain around here


Far too





i love birthdays. always have. always will. i love your birthday. i love my birthday. i love ritual. i love celebrating. i love a gathering. i love showing up. count me in. 

this year, this birthday, leaving the 30's to initiate the 40's, i swam through molasses trying to get the right feel for what it would be, what was aligned with my heart, what felt true. the only clarity was the ocean. i wanted to be near or on the ocean. after going back and forth for days i had to surrender to not knowing. i shared this struggle with a dear friend, who sat with me for hours* trying to figure it out and what i kept coming up against or swimming inside of was the vulnerable terrain of my own heart break. 

i thought i had healed it all up. needle and thread style. sutured up the lessons learned, the forgiveness (on-going), the breathing, the tears, the confusion, the anger, the crash landings, and the immense courage to let go. i am not sure if we ever get all healed up.... maybe it is inside all the healing we make room for more love and little by little, drop by drop, we don't feel as empty, as broken, as lonely. 

i decided to call in a healing circle for my heart. coming into 40 might just mean more healing. i mean what else is there really? with some cake and cocktails too.... the women who came together were friends i have had for a long time. women who are healers and artists, mothers and daughters, poets and circle holders. their showing up started the conversation in my heart for what friendship looks like.... 

for as long as i can remember i have been insatiably curious about how women create, nourish and sustain their friendships. how some of us are best friends in an instant and others take longer to marinate. how we connect and hold space for each other, our growth and our mistakes, our values, how we respect each other or don't. how we dance around worth and esteem, vulnerability and shame. how we don't want to hurt feelings so we talk to someone else instead of each other about our hearts, our fears, our passions. how we run away, how we stay on the surface or how we dive deep to connect and hear each other. then add on marriage, motherhood, work and more needs then you ever imagined. how do we do it?

when it comes to friendship: i am pot committed. it is one of the most important relationships for me, for my nourishment and for my growth. friendship is a well of opportunity for me to show up, to learn empathy, to not judge, to speak my truth and to receive love. it can get pretty messy as we recreate the stories our mothers showed us inside their friendships, their sisterhood, how they related or didn't relate. i am finding that friendship is such a precious gift. 

i believe we need each other more than ever. life is in full session. we have dreams to follow, we have babies to feed and we have marriages to nurture. we need a safe space to land even if it's a 2 minute hug with a me too on the end of it. i am calling in a healing circle for all of us. why are we not holding each other up, facing our fears to be daring with our hearts, creating safety for each other? why are we waiting when we are so hungry for this kind of connection? we are amazing when we get together. we make medicine. we drop down into our bodies. we write new stories. like hafiz says above: the terrain around here is far too dangerous for that.


i hope to inspire you to call in what you need on your birthday or any day... to call in what nourishes you, to ask for what you need, to start the cycle of receiving from those you love and those who love you. i would love to read your feelings, your stories about friendship... please comment below. 

churn the butter.

i am a woman who sits in front of the mirror to truly see what & where & who i am -looking me straight in the eye - i am hungry to learn more - chantings of the heart my belly churns inside an internal fire that has no expiration date - i am alive - i am grateful - i am on fire. i am feeling me - all of me - redefining me as each molecule takes a new shape - watching my hair as it falls on my breasts - observing all the touch - the feel - begging the internal rush to take a nap so i can enjoy the breath - my body - falling deeper in love with the woman i am today - excited for tomorrow - grateful for yesterday - all the sticky pain - the shenpa - the hook biting - all the attachment i am working on - to peel off like a hard boiled egg - chip away at a whole to create a purity i long for - this longing is innocent - all the girls inside me - all the women and the ancestors - they all want to meet up inside my gaze in the mirror - they all just want to be here - words on this white - how vital this medicine - to take this precious time - to go inside - churn the butter - splash some salt - check the temperature - open the oven - fork the bread - to show up ravenous & sated - to ground inside this practice of being - call it what you will - name it if it helps - beat the drum - fluff the pillow - whisper to the empty car - whatever helps you love - whatever helps to get you there - opening up the cracks - welcoming the light - giving this mess permission to fly - to burn - to bleed thru the white linen life we think we want - sit in front of the mirror - get curious - ask questions- feel inside and breathe xxxx

***when listening to audio: close your eyes, let the poem wash over you, nourish you, land where it wants to, let the poem move you*** just a thought beauties xxxx

good here.

good here

my hair is on fire and i am feeling everything
dipping, steeping, beauty believing in me
over and over again in all the languages
being seen here and being heard here
having all the right tools here
efficiency is the name of the game
in a copper house with transparent walls
the madness makes it good here.

i am biting at the bit, my mouth like the scape of a horse
i am bulging out of my pants, oozing out of the zippers
my bones enveloped by the taffy like land that had me at hello
please buy some carrots, figs, cucumbers and watermelon radish
put them on my eyes and lets make a face

i want to pop, i want to pop up shop
letting go is the name of the taco stand
healthy heaps of salsa and guacamole
i can hardly keep my eyes off you
pop goes the weezel
raccoons and zen masters
i want to travel with this circus
maybe on one of those long dirt roads
i will hear myself inside the dust and the fog
maybe I will not care about what you think
and you
and you
maybe it could be real good here
lobsters and drawn butter
the innocence of a summer
string lights and picnic tables

i will start believing in me
wearing my apron, jeans and pastel cottons
i will try not to fall asleep as we had ideas
desires of it being good here-
i really want so much that I can’t stop--
i want me and i want you
i need a thousand naps and I want to perform more than I knew
i want to be good and i want to make it
i want to figure it all out and then write lots of easy books,
easy to read & easy to write

i hear beauty
her foot steps and her one sock nap
our time is up.

i have to turn this off to start again
i want to do it better
less heavy
more light
half and half is perfect for me
i like it in my tea
warm with brown sugar cubes from france
turquoise birds on the box, the kind of box you want to keep
the kind of box that says fancy and barefoot, more money than god
but groundless and breathing, what trip to take, fearless about life,
homeschooling and showering in the same week
that could be good here.



I am ravenous

(no second guessing)

learning who I am inside this feast

this beast

this breath

struggling to write

I hear my belly moan

what is her famous song?

downloading the exhaustion

the broken pieces

the sewn up threads

my boot straps are up

my bags are packed

for a quieter life

a place that feels like that first sip

the warmth softening me

inside that tea

she’s a muse for all of me

I want more of less

turn down the volume

slow the bus

oil up the joints

lets sit ravenous for the breath

ravenous to take off the masks

unveil, make room, stare at your face in the mirror for a long time

pregnant with producing, being, raising, growing,

cooking it all up

this stew of motherhood

ravenous to try it all on

ravenous to let it simmer for years

the fire will take care of the fat

I will try the innards, create a shape and call it a day

ravenous for this morning- this paper, this pencil, this limoges tea cup

stirring me round and round

ravenous for a chat

slowing down to let go

teaching the gospel before I know the lines

faking it before I am making it

sitting in lotus with my hips on fire

little bonfires in the bank accounts of my sciatica

my bones trying to tell me the story

in a language I only hear as pain

maybe its longing

maybe all I will ever know how to do in this life is write,

make a tea and breathe

I want to invite kindness to every party

let go of my expectations

I want to move my body in a way that says: I love you, I love every single molecule of you, I want to travel the world with you and the seven seas with you so that I might get a bit lighter

lose the barnacles that hold me here, the shackles of an agenda put here way before I got here--- trying to transcribe the language, decipher the font, a map nailed to those innards floating around me between the boiling bubbles and the toiling troubles

so sick & tired of sucking at this teet

to look for no mother in the room

all the babies in wide wood bowls

free to roam on cake plates

in their cozy vessels

where they are seen and heard, seen and heard, seen and heard!

when will that musical be over?

I have the playbill in hand 

turning to the page entitled

‘how to make a life’

reaching for some plain m&m’s

I sink down in my chair and

wait for the second act to begin.


i am reveling in my unraveling

letting all the seams go

what it should be

what it seems to be

what i thought it was

who i need to be

i am unraveling.

pin me up

each meridian

take me out of the oven

let me cool and harden

i am making room on the sides of this pan

i am not stuck in here

unraveling never felt so good

pull that seam and let my dress fall down

i am in bed with my lover on a monday at 10am

yeah, thats right

the uneven curtains of where i should be

what i have been

who i am and where i am going

who the fuck knows?

i am healing

i am making room

i am leaning in

sharp edges

kneading ball after ball after ball

breathing round

breathing flat

breathing soft

custom blended for me

everybody has a story

i am so hungry for more of my breath

more of your hardship

lets shop it around

loosen it up

rip me apart

i am alive and the dark side is in the back seat

watch out 

i am taking my time

what was

ain't working

we are going to shift this shit up

hungry mother

mother hungry


 talk to each other

get curious

be of service

hug it out

lets try on the warrior costume


this groundlessness

ungravel the inevitability of dying

the fear fest that loves to be the line leader

a marriage of old shapes

doesn't fit anymore

lets get under this fat mess

dig up the rotted roots

fire up the rusty pots

smell the aroma

of our needs

ask questions

roast beets

make a tea

and begin

to unravel.

:::::more of this conversation




it’s a thank you on thanksgiving

it’s a time to mash, to roast, to hug warmth

feasts laden with cobalt, sterling & boats of gravy

shine, shine, shine that silver

i am so grateful

and it’s one of those things that never fills me up,

I crave more

I want to thank the world

the threads in my clothing

the pores in my skin

the static in the dryer because I am so lucky to have a dryer, things like that

I want to hear what you are grateful for

and then I can say thank you for all of that too

I can fit everything into this huge belly

devouring this amazing life

it’s so important to drop down

to feel it all

to let that shutting down thing go

why be here?

why live life if you can’t feel anything or you only get to feel what you want? as though you are able to get down and deep into the molasses and pick and choose what feels good i 

wish or maybe I don’t but I was not given that choice this time around

I want unconditional

I want to feel it

I want to tear all of our clothes off and box this shit out

I want to peel it, shred it and then smear icing all over it

balance could work too

and then I want to drop down even deeper

like the big dipper, shine those lights, be who you are

most people will not understand and that’s ok

some people will hate you and that’s ok

i am so lucky that I have a body that loves me

i am so lucky

i am sad too

i am hurting with my heart so grateful, it’s potent with

rawness and fluffy like a yam soufflé

i am a feast

i am thanksgiving

all I want to do is thank you

and then I want to understand everything

wooden spoons, ivory iron clad casserole dishes,

amber glasses with iced tea

orange pekoe or English breakfast

she loved oolong and jasmine

but hot, at a chinese restaurant on a sunday

I want to know where I stand

where to hold your hand

so that I don’t hurt you

why are we friends

if all I do is hurt you

if you can’t tell me

then you don’t know me

I am growing everyday

I am thanksgiving

I am a survivor

how can you teach the class

if you have not survived

the way I have?

how can you be thanksgiving if I am thanksgiving?

what is this cul-d-sac sack in the middle of the highway?

I need to get around this

I need to drive past something that makes sense

I am lost and the maps burnt off the side of the boat

when I was praying for things like freedom and intuition and poetry sundried with copper river salmon

and it’s foggy in here

and I need some sunglasses

oh maybe this cat mask will do

it will lighten every one up and

I am grateful for being good at that too

sweet belly.

beauties! a poetic recipe to nourish youxxxx

you are pink inside
and of course i love pink
you are so round
rotating, holding
my breath
my blood
my babies

you stretch to make room for love
and we, together birth a lot of things
my physical muse in scrubs with a telescope
looking for my constellation of emotion
hiding inside a bloated poem or a super flat song

I am indebted to you
I have never used the word indebted
I will write through the doubt
to trust avenue
to tell you
you are a house
a warm, cozy, ever-growing house
a flexible, loving house

you believe in me
you trust me more than I have ever trusted myself
you were definitely the first one here
I am so grateful

you surpised me in 2006 & 2011
you got so big!
you really know how to grow
to take care of me
and all who came during me

I send you thank you notes;
dark chocolate, a good steam, breathing you in and out
I want you to feel strong

the baby door that ‘they’
created out of you is lopsided
is it bothering you?
can you feel it from where you are?

I love your honesty
I love that we are working together again
I am committed to your muscles

are you feeling better since I started working out?
oh good.

I am so happy to nourish you
cooking for you
rubbing you at night

we have been through so much together
thank you
feels weak
you who grew a placenta
you who housed my babes
your wisdom
an IV to my everything 
but it’s all I got
thank you
sweet round belly
thank you.

windrose farms//part 3: motherhood everywhere.

i found something at the farm

i didn't know i was looking for

i discovered a hunger

i broke open a need

while waiting for the hen

to lay one warm brown egg

maybe it was the reflection of

motherhood everywhere

inside every dog & cat bowl

inside every crevice of the kitchen

inside the beauty, the intricacy,

the efficiency of a system,

not having a choice to keep

this beauty going

to raise everything

inside peacock kale to heirlooms

all the sheep and their one uma

inside bill's wonderful stories

& barbara's sweetest of blue eyes

they let me feed them

who new i could be so thirsty for the magical water from the hose,

the handmade bread, that lyrical nectarine jelly from jackie up the street

i am still hungry

maybe it was the bats in the 100 year old oak tree

or beauty's naked body running around in poetry

telling us that she is home

maybe it was the warm kitchen, old oven,

iron clad pans, wooden spoons, ceramic bowls, 

the stacks of plates, the random mugs from their travels

the knives of the many chefs who have been there

maybe it was about feeling a part of something

maybe just maybe

it was love at first sight