Gratitude and Desire

Why does it never feel like quite enough? Enough money, enough connection, enough time, enough energy?

If we would only trust, we would see that it’s always exactly enough, perfectly enough, more than enough. Perhaps our feelings of “lacking” are always directly proportionate to that which we’re not fully feeling grateful for.

When you do try to practice gratitude though, it’s more than just acknowledging what you have and thinking, “Yeah, I have this, and it’s great, but…” You’ve got to let that gratitude infiltrate every cell in your body. Really let it in.Yes, I know that everyone tells you to feel more gratitude. You’re probably sick of it. But don’t confuse this with the idea that you have to stop desiring more. If we were perfectly content with the flawed and messy status quo, we’d never create, we’d never fight against injustice, and we’d never try new things.

Learn how to let deep gratitude and deep desire exist within you simultaneously. They’re not mutually exclusive. But feeling deep desire for something is different than feeling an anxious need to possess something. That feeling is born out of doubt, fear, and anxiety whereas deep desire is born out of a pure place in your heart. Don’t feel guilty about your desires. Instead of saying, “I have this, but I’d like more of this,” try saying, “I have this, and I’d like more of this.” “But” negates. “And” allows.

Take action when needed to get to where you want to be, but then trust that it’s enough, that it’s always enough. Hold both the gratitude for what is and the desire for what could be in a deep and holy place within you. They’re not at war; they’re building together.

Love Manifest

Dear heart, you’re still strange to me. Still unknown.

But I hope you can feel that magnetic tug as you beat against your ribcage. I can feel it here inside. The vacuum it creates when it leans forward.

Come and find me. In finding yourself, in trusting all the things that you already are and always have been,

Come and find me in your truth. I will meet you there in mine. We will light a bright and burning fire there to illuminate every corner of our convoluted souls.

And you will see me in my wholeness and I will see you in yours. We will be electric.

I love you. I already do.

Glamour Grammar

Did you know that the word “glamour” actually stems from an old Scottish word for magic or enchantment? Glamour is also a descendent of the word “grammar” which actually meant something slightly different than what we think of today in English class.

Here is a fascinating explanation from the Merriam-Webster website:

In the Middle Ages the meaning of grammar was not restricted to the study of language, but included learning in general. Since almost all learning was couched in language not spoken or understood by the unschooled populace, it was commonly believed that such subjects as magic and astrology were included in this broad sense of grammar. Scholars were often viewed with awe and more than a little suspicion by ordinary people. This connection between grammar and magic was evident in a number of languages, and in Scotland by the 18th century a form of grammar, altered to glamer or glamour, meant “a magic spell or enchantment.” As glamour passed into more extended English usage, it came to mean “an elusive, mysteriously exciting attractiveness.”

This is so thrilling! It’s easy to see how people whom we’d define as “glamorous” cast a certain spell over the beholder. Immediately, I think of Grace Kelly, Rita Hayworth, Audrey Hepburn, and Marilyn Monroe. Those classic gems. They are intoxicating, and they just ooze a magical mystery about them that stems from their beauty, confidence, and easy grace. Glamour doesn’t really have anything to do with the way you’re dressed or the money you spend. I think that true glamour comes from the way you carry yourself, the way you give people your attention, the energy that you bring to any room you’re in. This is the spell you cast. And it’s wonderfully bewitching.

My New New Year


I’ve recently been learning a lot about Samhain (SAH-win), the pagan new year. It falls on the evening of October 31st and goes into November 1. This holiday celebrates the harvest of the summer’s abundance and marks the death of the earth as it folds into winter. For me, marking the new year at this time feels more natural, more in line with the seasonal rhythms of Minnesota.

The past twelve months have been both the most painfully difficult and the most wonderfully transformational of my life so far. Surprise, surprise, those two always seem to go together, don’t they? It was actually in late October last year that I moved in with my boyfriend at the time. It felt like a new beginning. I sensed that I was entering into a new phase of life, that things would be forever different. We settled into and adorned our sweet, little apartment together. By Thanksgiving, we were engaged.

We began the journey of living together, the joys and the struggles of it. Picking out a Christmas tree together for the first time, adopting a kitten, throwing parties, and running errands on sunny Saturday mornings. These small joys were blissful, but I was also fighting a lurking demon of deep uncertainty about our relationship. For me, the winter was full of inner turmoil, and I didn’t find my footing until March, right around Easter, when I called off the wedding and ended our relationship. Believe me, the symbolism of rebirth is not lost on me. But a painful labor it was.

And here I am, a full year later. Six months of trying to force myself into the box I had created for myself and then six months of healing from the fallout of an agonizing decision.

It’s time to make my peace with this year, thank it for all that it’s taught me, feel deep gratitude for all of its blessings, and release it. I’m ready to do this, but I also know that I’ll be feeling echoes of this past year as we take another turn around the sun. It’s very possible that I won’t be able to release this experience completely until we’ve reached the spring equinox again.

I cannot wait to see what new opportunities and new blessings come my way in this new year. I’m slowly learning how to let go of control, doubt, and fear. And, as ever, I’ll keep repeating these words as I did in my lowest moments:

I love myself. I trust myself. I forgive myself.

Water’s Promise

In the properties of water

Lie the chance of transformation

Without the loss of identity.

Earth to sky, sky to earth.

Caught in its perpetual cycle, it returns to us

Like a promise in unexpected forms.


It rises away then falls again,

Pooling in our lakes resting gently before us.

Without the churning of ocean currents,

A lake has learned the quiet patience

Of this promise. It remains rooted to the earth

Like the trees that line its shores.

Liquid Nature


I’ve always asked myself, “Am I strong enough?”
I often come off as the little, blonde, sweet one.
Never hurt a fly. Do as you are told.
One day I finally knew that my strength is not steely or loud or large.

My strength is water.

Flexible, flowing, unfettered. Steady, persistant, gently eroding.
A quiet, nourishing rain or a torrent of rageful, storming weather.
I’m a trickling, pensive stream and a tidal wave of love.
Don’t be fooled by my liquid nature, water carves rock.


*Written October, 2015

Trusting the Transitions

Some friends held a joint birthday party out at Parley Lake Winery in Waconia, MN this afternoon. To say that is was luscious and rejuvenating would be an understatement.

It was everything that a harvest party should be. We all brought food to share and prepared a glorious spread on one of the picnic tables peppered around the property. The pumpkin pecan cake was, quite literally, the icing on the cake of our feast. The company was delightful. There was wine. There were animals. There was live music. And there was a whole field of orchards filled with heavy-limbed apple trees, waiting to be harvested.

By the end of the day I felt completely relaxed and restored and, quite frankly, ready for a long nap. The rich moods of fall and the slow retreat into the colder months are such a special time. I’ve found that times of transition, be they seasonal or personal, are times to be reflective and introspective. If we rush through the transition, just hoping to get to the other side of it, we often miss the magic that’s waiting there in the fold. But we often feel chaos and confusion during these times, so we don’t want to sit in the messiness of it.

Trust that transitions are temporary, know that they will pass as all things do, and welcome them while they’re here. Those are the seasons where we’re stretching and growing and adjusting, and they are so, so important.