Unraveling the cocoon

I feel myself on the edge of something huge. A frontier. I feel the spaciousness, the room to expand. I feel myself still nestled in my blanket-cocoon, not quite ready to step all the way out. Simply looking, and feeling full, to the point of overwhelm, by the looking. The same as when I was pregnant, and I could eat a meal first by looking at it, feeling sated for many good minutes before the urge to dive within overtook me.


I love my pace. I love my cocoon and how it has taught me innumerable things, as the rain drops on the window blend into rivery tendrils. I am savoring these last moments in the blankets, before stepping into the full glory and power of skin against air and sun and rain, legs bared and stretched and standing, supporting, dancing…arms reaching, lifting, twirling…hands grabbing, fingering, kneading…

Oh I love savoring the last bits of what is. The foamy, densely sweet puddle at the bottom of the mug. The lover laying on my chest as we breathe together. Packing up. Licking the plate. Eyes shining so alive and appreciative in the goodbye. Recognizing Ruby won’t be nursing forevermore, and scooping her up, squeezing her tight, savoring the smell of her sweaty head and the way she pinches and twists the nipple she’s not latched onto.

Ruby has walked a couple of times on her own now. We’ve slept apart a couple of times, too. We both have these teeth coming in. We are both starting to climb. I’m so bottomlessly fascinated by the ways we mirror each other’s learning and growth.


To know a season is shifting, so much more than a tidal swoosh. To see it ahead of time, the leaves aching into yellow, the urge to leave, certain clothes no longer appealing, ideas blooming so vast the vague outline leaves me trembling in awe. A new spirit guide emerges.

And then, the miraculous shift occurs. All of a sudden, without any announcement, she is walking, not holding onto anything but her joy tantalizing her forward. I don’t know what my miraculous shift will look like. There are these clues, these dreams, these desires and callings and glimmerings and wishings. Wings unfurling. My joy dangling like a carrot.

I am leaving my spring and summer home at the end of this month. Plane tickets have been bought. The other side of the country’s teeth gleam golden. A horseshoe toss into a beckoning smile.


Three sisters

Listen. Listen to the soft voice in the lavender cloud. Listen to the stark motivation behind the asking. Listen to the heartbeat ripping through and between the bodies spooning. Listen to the ache and the pull and the refreshing window of in-between burgeoning towards. Listen to me. My heart is wide open and dancing in the breeze. Listen to me. My heart is an ocean made of a zillion fish turning into salt. Listen to me. My heart is tender tenterhooks tap-dancing along the shore. The dock is made of many teeth laughing. The paddle boat asks for surprise, and the dog swimming along rips open the water of the wake.

I am awake. My eyes softly reflect the light of the screen and the sunset, mixing like a smoothie of jumbo power. Each blending is a fresh moment. The light keeps changing, in subtle ways that scratch my bug-bitten back.DSC_0245

However many there are of you, angels and elves, I am one hundred. I am one hundred motions and one hundred slapjacks and three hundred towels dripping on the shower door.

If we are backwards, looking across the earth into false pajama idols, then the creeping whispers of internet passwords slipping into the crevice shall revive me. connect me to what is real. Really my feet rest on shiny hardwood floor; one foot really, one foot on the other. The colors of the room dim and blend into dark behind the screen and the lessening light thru the window. I am thru the window, my energy soars in an arc around me. I welcome you through the window, my husband. My tender-footed husband. My slapjack backpack rutabaga husband. here we are with flannel and beards, friends and forehead kisses and a baby with the brightest eyes.

Here we are with frankenfurter fallopian tubes, and gargantuan gumballs, and jars of water jumping into splashing hands and tumbly tummies.

I forgot to call you, as I slept in the cabin with my family of faeries. I forgot to call you, and it all worked out. You picked up the e-mail after with grace and flex, like a tangerine peel dangling from a line.


I’ve forgotten to call before. I’ve forgotten to brush my hair, to braid my hair, to floss between my teeth. I’ve forgotten to touch myself in the quiet times when I ache for another. I just lay there and ache and imagine.

Someday soon the ache will be met. The two aches will meet and relax into lips spreading into smiles. I am so excited to relax into the smile spread. I am so momentous about trusting that I can wait. Here is the momentum: bum bum. bum bum.


Tomorrow I go to class. A development circle. A seance semblance of witches holding hands. Except we don’t hold hands, and we sit in folding chairs, and I think about everyone’s hair. Last week I started to cry as I sensed the woman’s sadness.

I hear Ruby crying and I don’t go to her. A constant exercise in trust. An ever-interesting observation of the reason. I can barely see the water in the jar on the chair. I hear a mosquito. I want to write a story on the stripes of my shirt, but this is easier. More downstream.

I want to feel wise and huge and magnificent. I want people to trust me and reach for me and I reach for them and we arc like the sculptures I imagine us building in the field.

I love that I am friends with him. I love that his love feels like honey rain recycling sweat. I love how he is the perfect, perfect, perfect papa. And I love that he is and is not perfect, and how we grow together like beans and corn and squash. Perhaps we were three sisters at some point.



I’ve gotten so used to gratitude lists and re-framing and only wanting to share the juiciest, best feeling nuggets. And yet, things are conspiring to remind me to sit with the feelings. To honor the harder feelings. And so here I am, with this opportunity to share.

The hard…

I was really inexplicably sad and frustrated for a while. Or perhaps explicably. The explication having something to do with wanting so much to create, and not quite knowing the release-form, the outlet. But I’m not sure if that was all of it, because the feelings just kept bursting.


The wondrous…

Letting my feelings be, and the emergence out of them and into new feelings being so exquisite. Truly the death of a caterpillar, the birth of a butterfly. Knowing midst the terribly sad thots how really melodramatic I was being, and poetic, and perfect. Letting it all be. And speaking about it to a friend, who made me feel divine.

Learning with L. a little thing that really improves our communication and understanding about who is going to be with our darling baby when. Wow the little things.

Sitting on the back porch with Emily, seeing how this is heaven on earth, the horses meandering in the pasture, the gorgeous pond-lake, the super green grass freckled with dandelions, the bright blue sky, the invitation to share and deeply listen.

Recognizing that in my not-making of art, I am preserving what is. So, that kind of makes what is a form of my art. My leaving that tree alone, not cutting it down or obstructing the view, somehow makes the tree itself a part of my art. How fascinating.


A phone call with my love, Sara, and realizing that when she comes to be with me in a few months, we’ll be living together, sharing more of each other than ever before. I can already taste the beauty of it, the flavors of what we’ll create and feel together. And I feel that it’s okay and right for there to be this spaciousness before then.

Sara knew what I meant with this “allowing what is to be is the art”ness. She called it Bewholeding. The wholeness of all that is and I am. It feels so right and ripe and sugary to think of this as the first layer of my art in this farm. The what is-ness. Seeing it and appreciating it. And nurturing it…how lovely it is to water the plants and pull out what doesn’t belong in the vegetable beds.

And perhaps, there is a golden layer beyond the bewholeding, where I might catch glimpses of what is to come, and I can then create that, following the thread. I think that might be what is next. I have an urge to make a stick-model of a structure that Jess and I have been dreaming of. I have a glimmer of it in my imagination, beckoning me.

My new computer arriving, and feeling so happy gardening that I was like, “Oh I’ll wait to open it.” And then opening it just in time for an internet play date with my miraculous friend, where we arranged for there to be a play camp at the farm I’m living on…bringing her to me less than a month from now. Zing! Zing zing zing zing zing!

Coming to a beautiful clarity with my friend about how the sessions we do together will now involve an agreed-upon payment, and it being the right amount with bonus art, the sweet spot. So grateful for the sweet spot.

This art studio. Being a beautiful haven where I can step away from the glorious bustle of the main house and get my groove on, with the gentle tapping of the curtain and the creak of the door and the hiccuping songs of the high-pitched birds, the far-away swoon of the loon: the perfect accompaniment to my lyrical thots.


How my new computer has already learned my spelling of thots.


My superpowers…

Being with the hard feelings.



I wish for…

Really reliable trust in my finances. Letting the how be a mystery.

Clarity around what I’m wanting with my Love Tending practice. Feeling ready for a couple more love tendees, trusting that we’ll find the sweet spot as simply as happening to pick a dandelion with my barefoot toes as I walk through the grass.


I’m borrowing this format from Havi Brooks’s weekly Friday blog, where she has similar categories to help her frame her week.

yes please

oh, to sit in such contentment this morning as I feed Ruby bits of squished avocado, able to go at exactly the right, slow, spit-out, retry pace, because there is nothing I have to do today. I could go weed the rows in the hoophouse, I could watercolor, I could make a new dye bath out of some of the plants I collected. I could just sit and stare at Ruby as her precious barnacle-ness suctions onto me during her long naps, feeling the sun licking me through the huge windows, glancing out at the pond to see if the water is calmly reflecting the trees or being tossed up into waves by the wind.


DSC_0029Wow. How do I get to be so lucky in life? I feel like such a baby, so young and fresh, a little sprout, and I get to live in such a glamorous home with such talented people, all living in harmony,
where we spout inspiration and encouragement around and around. And I also get to feel like I designed this for myself. Because I did. As I felt the move to this farm in Maine approaching and I got a little bit like “what’s it gonna be like?” I remembered I could create it. I took a huge roll of paper and spread it across a desk, and painted in ink all the best feeling things I wanted this place to be like. I painted “new soul family discoveries” and “my art soars to new heights” and “inspiration” and “kids” and tons of other stuff. I luxuriated in the painting, I went over each of the words in the color that felt right, and I hung it up right next to my bed.


Relaxed exhale–big stretch–happy sigh. Oh this heaven! Dan is cooking eggrolls, and we had such a beautiful conversation about synchronicities and rainbows and feelings earlier.  Mackerel actually has clothes on for once as he sits at the kitchen counter watching and questioning what’s around him. Emily is out milking the goat. I hear kid-speed footsteps running down the stairs. The sun is turning orange as she descends behind my head, glowing up this golden kitchen-living room. Jess is washing dishes, and Greg walks in with a watermelon. They’re all agreeing that “Nice At You”, something Mackerel just said, would be a great name for a band.


DSC_0241I’m so grateful to be living in this gorgeous space, on this powerfully beautiful land, where the only thing for me to do is follow my inspiration. I love that my inspiration is hugely about making dyes from the plants I find here. Being super present with Ruby. Tending to the lovely plants that are growing that we will eat and share with others. Noticing the bright green leaves dancing across the trees, a sudden shift after the rainstorm from the lavender-brown bare branches. I am those leaves.


There’s a feeling I get here, like it’s a big blank canvas, where everything is working, healthy and shining…the threads are rich with history and strong with experience. And now I’m here, to have my way with it. To be as gentle and wild and playful as I please. Oh what delight! I’m so grateful for this happy place to be my home, for the easy wild pleasures I find here, for my pace to be so genuine and exactly however it pleases me. I wish this feeling for everyone who wants it. Yes please.

just gotta celebrate

good morning. oh the way the brightness clings to the mountain’s snow,  clinging while leaping, an ever-dance zinging between my eyes and the countless crystals.

I love my self. I love that I have a self-love book. I hope that everyone has a self-love book, and that they can read it when they are not feeling so good, and remember how perfect and amazing and unique and powerful they are.

I love my heart. I love that the book I read this morning gave me an image of the body as a prism for the light of love to pass through, diffracted into rainbows. I loved re-tuning in to the rainbow when presented with moments that felt kind of difficult. I am so much love. It’s all I am, this rainbow fractal.

I love the clouds here. Wisps and waves, fractals that look like neurons, angels diving…clouds like I’ve never seen before. What a treat! To continually be re-delighted by the beauty around me. I love how nature has endless tricks up her sleeve to leave me in awe and wonder and delight.

I love the willing players around me. Mmmm. I love that Leaf is such a willing player, and he grows my heart daily. Wow. I love how stunningly perfect Ruby is. The simple perfection of her calls out the very best of me. It’s like….it’s like nothing else. It’s like…mmmmm. She inspires me.

I love that I asked for the perfect work to be right and ready for me during this internet session, and there’s nothing up from the Play Nexus that I can easily find, so the perfect work is here, is me, is this writing, this celebration. This joy.

I love letting myself talk about something, even if it doesn’t feel totally good, because I don’t want to keep pretending to suppress the thought and getting more and more tangled up about it. I love letting it be easy. I love that I know I could also try to clear it energetically, and to keep practicing, and doing some energy work  helped me set the tone for the conversation a bit more nicely than how I was originally feeling. It’s all a learning experience!

I love my big wild heart. Wow. Yes. Mmmhm.

I love how clear my love is for Natalie. It’s such a zing. Such a yes. I’m so grateful that my teacher also feels like my bestie and her eyes twinkle and she’s an amazing dancer and poet and so clear and yummy and fun and zingy.

I love Becca. I love how excited I am to cuddlesnuggle her and hear her steady honest voice and feel her hands find the perfect spots to rub and watch her dance her wild, whole-body dance. I am so excited to fall into pits of laughter with Natalie and Becca, and have the steam of our happiness shoot us up out of the pits like geysers.

I love how steady Leaf is. I love that I deeply trust him. I love that he shows up again and again as an amazingly present, loving papa for Ruby. I love that he tells me he loves me a bajillion times a day. I love that he loves making up songs. I love that he loves laying Ruby in the dirt. I love his mystical eyes and how committed he is to his own growth. I love seeing him lay back in a room full of friends, his eyes closed and his face smiling, seeing the air around him sparkle with his radiant love.

I love celebrating. I love my heart. I love how meaningful it is to celebrate. I love that my celebration can ripple outwards everly. Oh yes. I love that the internet can allow people to tap into it so easily and on a really intimate level. Mmm yes.

I love writing mmm yes. I love that that is what I say when people are speaking the truth to me, and I radiate smiles and mmmm and yes at them.

I love that the book I was reading talked about being in such a steady place, not letting people throw you out, even if they insult you or anything. I would love to feel that way and radiate smiles and mmmmm and yes, finding my willingness in whatever anyone is saying. I love that my wings are growing and flapping and it’s like I’m shaking off the sticky wet stuff that is still on me after coming out of the cocoon. Unfurrrrl.

I love that this writing is legitimate…and listening to my spirit guide of a unicorn really helped me accept that and to bask in it: my happiness is something I should share as widely as I can. I love that my spirit guides love me so much, because they are also me, and I love me so much, and I love you so much!

I really do love you so much.

An awesome man just approached me in the library where I’m writing this, and on his hat is a pin, amidst other pins and patches and flags, that says “The light in me recognizes the light in you”. I love that I shared a farm resource, and he shared an island resource, and we parted with such love.


What am I driving towards?

I am driving towards next-level Hannah. Ninja-focus love-beacon Hannah. Hannah who has laser eyes that pierce into the heart of things and sees their bestest, juiciest selves and revels in laughter on the floor with them.

I am driving towards all-powerful Hannah. Hannah who easily orchestrates time chunks for deep flow and life-giving projects. And then doesn’t even have to orchestrate them because it’s so in-flow for them to simply be and keep coming, the momentum is there. Hannah who has thriving, luscious writing, sewing, painting, gorgeous focus playgrounds bursting with the juiciest fruits and dreams sprouting. It is spring and summer in all my playgrounds.

I am driving towards knowing-right-where-my-willingness-is Hannah. I give full presence to Ruby when that is my yes, which it perfectly-often is, and I give full presence to my body and whatever is around me that is ready to thrill and delight me. I am constantly feeling intimate with and making love with my environment. Soul gushing.

I am driving towards a Hannah-tat. A perfect private Hannah nook space where my beautiful dreams can flourish. I see ivy-flower trellises and sunlight and nakedness and sex on a carpet on a wooden floor with berry juice dripping from laughter-ecstasy curved faces. I see my teapot and my dresses and my gorgeous huge full-wall art project. I feel like it’s a dream board, dreaming into the heart of my desires, always expanding and ripening.

I am driving towards refreshment. Rejuvenation. Huge strength and expansive joy. I am driving towards clarity. Better-than-ever communication. My tongue is clean, dripping spring water, nourishing everyone lucky enough to hear my voice.

I am driving towards love. Deep, soul-partner, lifelong love. Feeling my highest vibration matched and activated and held and soaring together. Perfectly rounding out our familyness, everyone fitting together like puzzle pieces, making even more sense than before.

I am driving towards the Conscious Play Center. My heart wide and wild and a treehouse with a rope-bridge to Natalie’s Nat-a-tat. We are facilitators of play, dick-taters of play. hahaha. YES! We are inviting people deeper and bigger into joy and the whole universe is conspiring to be like Yes, YES, YES!!!! Coming together again and again and again.

I am driving towards my excitement. Exhilaration. Fun and miracles, surprises and truths. I am driving towards relaxation. Full, worthy inhales and effortless, cherished exhales. I am driving into rainbows, shooting stars, chamomile crowns, Ruby slippers. I am driving with all my spirit guides: the whale, the buffalo, the goose, the tiger, the crocodile, the bear, the cat, the hawk, the raven, the raccoon, the lizard, the elk, the elders, my grandmothers, my mother, Ruby’s infinite spirit, Leaf’s infinite spirit, Natalie’s clear eyes, Becca’s crystal wand waving me in. Mmmmm. Thank you for driving with me.

I am driving towards painting richer colors and combinations than ever before, ones that break people’s hearts open to make room for even-bigger hearts. I am driving towards surprise encounters, seeing my most-beautiful-self reflected in people I meet at gas stations, in canyons, along river beds. I am driving towards that space where the sun breaks through the clouds, this heaven-on-earth-ness. Yes yes yes.

spring gifts

the sun sings flow jamz back and forth in rays sweeping all around us. I’ve got a litany of jars and mugs offering every morsel I desire (smoothie, butter+coconut oil coffee, water, oats with hunny and hemp seeds), all standing in a line-up on my headboard as I relax into paisley pillows and sentimental quilts. Mmmm. Thank you for this perfect moment.seeds

I want to celebrate all the newness in this nowness. Jess has painted the kitchen with undulating pastel rainbows. We’ve seeded the hugels. Leaf and I have found our way into harmoniously sleeping separately, while easily sharing the night slumber with baby Ruby. Magick. I have also begun offering my services as a Love Tender to the world, where I have regular phone sessions with people helping them to focus in on the love and happiness already in their life.


I am so frickin proud of myself for offering this service. It truly is one of my superpowers to find my way into happiness, and I’m helped by all of these magickal tools I’ve learned from the Play Nexus: gridding, controlled splatting, focus wheels, ho’oponopono (I’m happy to describe any of these in more detail, just ask me if you’re curious). And moreso, I’ve learned more lifestyle philosophies. Like to only do what feels good. If it doesn’t feel good, to go general, get out of the details.

For example, I started out my idea of Love Tending thinking it would be a clearly paid-for service, where there’s an easy peezy agreed-upon money exchange going on. And as I gridded it, nothing more specific than “feeling valuable” felt good…it didn’t seem easy or inviting to pick a number for a price to ask for. So I stayed at that level: feeling valuable, helpful, abundant. Calling that in. Noticing how that is my truth already and my continuing reality.


I did a focus wheel on it, wanting to go deeper into feeling valued, abundant, letting it be easy. And as I filled in the wheel, I realized that the first person I’m love tending for loves me already so much and will give me whatever she can. And that I fully trust that this will be helpful and valued, and I don’t even need to ask for anything. It feels so good and right for it to be a gift in and of itself.

During our first session, I learned that this person is feeling particularly sensitive about finances, and it all clicked on an even clearer level. Of Course it didn’t feel right to come up with some paid arrangement from this mindset. We get to play together towards expanding the feelings of and focus on abundance and easy flowing generosity. And as we played, my feelings of being taken care of and being so abundant and magick expanded, as well! So, by the end of the call, when she was saying how valuable this has been for her and asking can she give me anything, it felt so natural to say it’s simply a gift, I already feel valued. And as I trust in feeling valued more and more, I’m sure the specifics of how I want that value to be expressed will appear effortlessly. Surprisingly. Huge and delicious, like a surprise birthday party at the end of the bestest feeling day. Mmm, like when my troupe of a tribe appeared the evening of Ruby’s birthday in our bedroom/birth lounge with a marvelously-flower-decorated chocolate cake, all singing so beautiful to this beacon of joy.


I know the universe is ever-showering me in gifts. I’m so grateful to be sharing what I have to offer as easily and well-nourished as the fruit trees.