365 days in the year of hearts

It was January 2nd. I was not in a particularly good mood. So I went for a walk. Somewhere on that walk, I looked down and saw this:


Instagram is my memory keeper. I only remember how this whole hearts-thing started because I posted that photo to Instagram and captioned it just so. 

I didn't think I had the chops to devote 365 days to heart-finding, but somewhere in the midst of documenting a heart a day, every day (well, almost every day) something clicked. 


And the more it clicked, the more I clicked. 


And the more I clicked, the more it clicked. By it I mean the Universe. 

You see, this is the conversation I chose to have with the Universe.

I didn't request hearts because I needed to see them, I requested hearts because I've been finding hearts for years in the most peculiar places, at the most peculiar times. So my request to see hearts every day was really more like me finally agreeing to have the conversation that the Universe has been trying to have with me for a very, very long time. 



Stop here for a second and consider: what funny little things do you always see at the most peculiar times? That's your conversation. That's your language with the Universe. Have that conversation. Allow that conversation. Give that conversation the time and space to happen. Devote yourself. 



I'm so happy that I placed my attention on this conversation. This year was a good year, but it was also a year of letting go and restoring energy. It was a year of opening and closing doors. It was year of big changes. I scaled back work to create space for family matters. My oldest son left for college. My youngest son compensated by signing up for three separate sport teams in the Fall. And my husband decided to have both knees replaced. In the midst of that chaos, there was this: 


The more hearts I found, the more supported I felt by the force of nature that flows through all things: LOVE. 

There were days that I saw nothing, nada, zip, zilch. And on those days? On those days, hearts usually arrived from friends texting me the hearts that they found with sweet notes about how they were thinking about me. So you see? Those signs became my signs, too, along with a reminder that connection matters. 


For the past few weeks I've been poking and prodding this practice, wondering if I should continue with hearts or expand the conversation into something else. Change is always good. 

So on Christmas morning, the thought to practice random acts of kindness popped into my head and about three minutes later, I opened my Christmas gift from my family. 

Original Scott Jeffries Imperfect Heart

An original Scott Jeffries work of art. With a special inscription on the back that I'm holding tight inside my heart. This rendered me speechless and brought forth a river of tears. Aside from this being the most thoughtful, beautiful gift ever, it was an affirmation and an exclamation to move into 2018 with a focus on random acts of kindness.

That scares the bejeezus out of me. So, it must be right. 

I think I'm just going to sit with it the same way I sat with 365 hearts and just took one day at a time. Looking. Finding. Asking. Giving. Receiving. Loving. 

The only way to practice, is to practice.

Would you like to join me?

Imagine the good we could do together with #365_RAOK. 

Just imagine. 


Laying your cards down on the table


Every month I lay my cards down on the table, take a deep breath and reach inside these tiny little envelopes to receive a message. 

These are messages that I channel for myself, once a year, in one sitting. When I finish I tuck them in an envelope and place them on my desk, which doubles an an altar, of sorts. Every month I open one. 

The one you see in the foreground is the message that appeared for this month. I opened it yesterday. This morning when while I was shaping a few loafs of oatmeal-maple-raisin-walnut dough (because sweet JESUS I can't stop making bread these days) there was a voice, THAT voice saying, "Hurry up and get outside." I connected the dots of this month's message and THAT voice. I hurried up. I got outside.

And this is what was waiting...


So why am I sharing this? 

This is my first week with my days to myself in roughly a month, but really it's my first week with emerging clarity in well over five months. I had big plans for today that started with bread and meditation and then writing and photography—all of which technically is happening but not the way my tiny little brain planned. Here's the thing: if I didn't open that card yesterday I would have missed this morning completely. It was not the morning I imagined, but it was the morning I received. With gratitude for All That Is.

How willing are you to receive all that you can't possibly imagine? That might be the most important question you ever have to answer. OPEN, sweet heart.


Two things—If you want to try walking through the next 12 months with your own set of channeled messages, visit my shop.  If you're local, consider joining me November 18th for two hours In The Company Of Angels.

Whatever you do today: make the most of it. xo

How to move forward

I document the hearts that jump in front of me everyday on IG. Join me there with the hashtag #365hearts (there are only 65 days left to this year)

I document the hearts that jump in front of me everyday on IG. Join me there with the hashtag #365hearts (there are only 65 days left to this year)

Don’t go looking 

for answers

or explanations

don’t go searching 

for the point 

or purpose

don’t go seeking

the end

or beginning

just go 

and watch

the WAY

your soles

continue to meet the earth

in the space

of rising and falling

with every step

Are you local? Join me In The Company Of Angels, Saturday, November 18th. Space is limited. Learn more and reserve your spot today! 

Flying Lessons

The day before my oldest son graduated from high school I was schooled in letting go, by a spirit named Robin. 

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It all started when this sweet baby leapt its nest outside our bedroom, landed on the deck and was ready to take flight. I didn't think I would have enough time to grab my good camera, but after watching Robin pace back and forth for more than five minutes, I realized that I just might have all the time in the world. 


I don't know about you, but I never gave much thought to the process of a bird flying from a nest. In my very limited imagination I assumed it just flew, unassisted, when it was ready. I was surprised to witness the pacing, the uncertainty and the hesitation that Robin unapologetically exhibited until what I will now and forever refer to as THE SONG cut through the air. It was a short, but certain call, that I translated as THIS WAY.  

Again and again: THIS WAY.





Concise. Clear. Commanding. 

Robin kept looking to the left and then forward. Left. Forward. 

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THE SONG kept coming from a nearby tree where two robins patiently sat, one with a mouth full of feed, the other, a few branches above, calling Robin forth. 

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Finally, Robin flew to the left...

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...careened toward the window and thankfully avoided what could have been an very unfortunate mishap...

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...and, then, softly landed on the ground. 

THE SONG continued because Robin was not quite into the woods yet. There was one more ledge to go. 

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Attempts to hide behind the fire pit did not silence the two encouraging parents...AT ALL. 

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Eventually Robin followed THE SONG to the final ledge, beyond the prisonesque fencing, and took another leap, landing on the branch of an evergreen in the heart of Nature, Herself.

Precisely where Robin belongs to live this one, precious life. 

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I've been holding onto this gift of a story knowing that my son's graduation was nothing more than that first leap from the nest and that we had another ledge to go this Fall. It was a beautiful reminder for me that a parent's biggest, perhaps most important, job is to let go so their child can land in the heart of his/her Nature, wherever that may be.

So often we think our job is to guide each other out of the woods, but I'm pretty sure our first job is to prepare each other to fly in—dangling a little food, singing THE SONG just a few feet ahead...enough to help each other realize that we're all equipped, in our own special way, to do whatever it is we came here to do. 

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I find comfort knowing so many of you are perched alongside me on a branch right now guiding a loved one, and yourself, through some form of transition. I find even more comfort knowing that we are all just part of a chain of SINGERS singing THE SONG for each other. 

We are, you know. 

Wherever you find yourself right now—singing THE SONG or heeding the CALL...slow down, take it easy and look around. These parts are filled with magic, as long as you're willing to bear witness to it all.