You are allowed to rest.
You are allowed to go through the effort of going to the store, buying the ingredients, and spending time cooking your favorite meal… even if you’re the only one there to eat it.
You are allowed to prefer the company of people who lift you up to those that drag you down.
You are allowed to cry.
You are allowed to believe in the magic of the moon and tide and seasons.
You are allowed to be wildly sexy… even if you aren’t “skinny” or “hot” or “perfect.”
You are allowed to be unproductive or to delve into something utterly “useless” that delights your spirit.
You are allowed to not have it all figured out.
You are allowed to be selfish, and not just this once.
You are allowed to be imperfect. To show up messy. To feel vulnerable when a perceived flaw is revealed.
You are allowed to want your coffee a certain way. (Brewed dark with dollops of coconut cream, thank you very much.) And, you are allowed to be absurdly weird about the mug that you drink your coffee out of.
You are allowed to buy yourself really nice sheets to sleep in every night.
You are allowed to like succulents and flower crowns, even when they are painfully on trend and you’d really like to pretend you are too cool for them.
You are allowed to be uncool.
You are allowed to curate your life as if it is your greatest masterpiece. It is.
You are allowed to throw away all of the underwear in your drawer that has holes in it.
You are allowed to shine brightly, even it it is intimidating to someone else or makes them jealous.
You are allowed to be unendingly specific as you attend to the details of what is around you.
You are allowed to say no. To change your mind. To realize mid-process that something isn’t right for you.
You are allowed to recalibrate your course at a moment’s notice.
You are allowed to choose what you make things mean.
You are allowed to have a bad day.
You are allowed to be ridiculously happy, even if everyone around you is struggling.
You are allowed to be too much. To be irrational. To be highly sensitive.
You are allowed to ask for what you need.
You are allowed to have needs.
You are allowed to love yourself, bravely, no matter what.
You are allowed to make up your own mind about what you’d like to do – without asking anyone else.
You are allowed to make mistakes.
You are allowed to be deliciously, ridiculously, and messily human.
Damn I loved this: Anti-Hurry Allotment.
Are you missing from the visual story of your life?
A recipe for dreaming… complete with what appears to be a seriously delicious Garlic Soup recipe.
Here’s the thing – we are all just walking each other home.
Going to the source. YES.
Pecan pie in a baked apple?! I agree with all of this.
I really adored reading about how the fabulous Grace Quantock runs her two international businesses while living with a chronic illness.
Unconscious acceptance. Which is to say, what shit are you putting up with?
The pull of the moon.
How to fill your home with cheap, beautiful things from thrift stores (without becoming a hoarder).
This week I’m seeking pleasure by… Oh the nesting, will it ever end?! I hope not. Right now, I am filled to the brim with joy from cleaning my new house, cooking myself my favorite foods, skipping around my home and reveling in the solitude. I’ve also been particularly keen on the book manuscript I’m hacking away at, Pukka Love tea, and begging Cookie to re-pot my wild succulents that are taking over the living room.
And clean sheet, always clean sheets.
I am beauty for beauty’s sake.
I am hexagon tiles and not going to the bar to scrub my bathtub just because.
I am making my home in the statement: Ask for what you need.
I am tightly bound, laced-up, but unraveling.
I am open to receiving.
I am gathering women in truth everywhere that I travel.
I am tulle skirts. Hooded sweatshirts. Gold bangles. Motorcycle boots.
I am nesting.
I am energy grounding deeply, crawling along the earth. An intricate root system taking over the yard.
I am ancient mama love.
I am loud celebrations.
I am striped comforters and hot pink altars.
I am rosebuds beneath your feet and the golden shells that catch your eye.
I am blooming feminine and learning to be unendingly gentle.
I am coddled when I am sad.
I am 50 Shades of Grey for the 30th time.
I am brave love.
I am the liminal expanse where sand meets the coming tide.
I am the aloe plant in my living room that outgrew it’s pot six months ago.
I am bergamot and clary sage.
I am granting myself permission.
Brave Love is BACK! We begin November 1st. Join us.
Who cares what others think?
The brilliant Nona Jordan is running a brand new class called Surf Lessons about tapping into your wild money flow and natural abundance… and I am willing to bet that you’re going to love it.
What are you unconsciously committed to?
I absolutely adore the sensuality of these images.
Does discipline equal freedom?
If you’re looking for a new career… start out by creating your hell no list.
Why I won’t be praying for patience.
YES :: No mud, no lotus.
Anna’s body gratitude meditation is so very gorgeous.
I am devoted to dreaming about my ideal life.
This week I’m seeking pleasure by… peeling back the layers and being as sweet to myself as possible. This has included banana + almond butter toast, Gilmore Girls on Netflix, nesting in my new apartment, and doing laundry, as slowly as possible. I am changing with the seasons and I’ve been heeding the call to be majorly gentle.
P.s. I will start writing here again this week. Truly. Honestly. I have so much to tell you. xx
Required read :: Repossession. Brilliant.
On Crying, Trying + the Magic of Giving up. YESSSSSS.
Here’s what to do when you’re feeling small.
On shifting our focus and attention.
How to rock a selfie photo shoot.
Feeling sort of done with your day job? Got bigger dreams on the brain? Here are 5 ways to better tolerate your day job, even when your mind is somewhere else.
The courage to be sacredly unapologetic.
Really loved this one… Embracing feminine energy in entrepreneurship.
This week I’m seeking pleasure by… watching a whole bunch of Dexter, on my couch and in my new living room, recovering from the mayhem of the last two weeks. Cooking slowly in my new kitchen. Moving intentionally. Readying myself for next week’s Restore Retreat (SQUEAL) and allowing my imagination take the lead.