I was inspired by a fellow woman, mother, spiritual seeker to start blogging again, so here I am. It’s Spring, 2024. Ian is 13. Evan and I are both stretching ourselves in creating new ways to share our gifts (he as a personal coach, still work shopping a title that doesn’t give us the ick) and me as a who knows combo tarot reader-astrology guide-massage therapist-energy worker who also teaches fitness and works an admin job for an amazing pediatric occupational therapy clinic. I’m ending the “season” here in the desert which means I’ll teach less classes as the heat drives the fancy folks abroad, and I’m contemplating diving deep into tarot and astrology study which makes my heart flutter and/or getting certified as a personal trainer which makes sense logically but doesn’t necessarily set my soul on fire.

Did I mention Ian is 13? On the ever evolutionary journey that is parenting, we are also always re-parenting ourselves which seems to coincide with Ian’s age, so I am not re-parenting my 13 year old self. Can’t wrap my head around that one, but am making friends with the ups and downs of hormonal moods. The manic joy, laughter and elation. The rage. The nothing makes sense ever. The absolute ineptitude of parents. It can get heavy, for all of us. And so I am reminded by our big yellow tree, that we planted ourselves in 2019 (the before times), that however heavy it seems: The feelings. The doubts. The self-hatred. The stuckness…our actual spirits are this big yellow tree. So big and bright for the whole world to see. So fucking happy to just BE here.