Soul Space


Soul Space

I drive down to the beach because I need a balm for my soul. I need my soul space, the place that settles me and delivers me that inexplicable feeling of rightness. The warm salty breeze ruffles my hair in the same way it whips and froths the white caps on the water. The sand is almost unbearably hot as I walk to find a spot to sit among the crowd. As I settle into my beach chair, I turn my face to the warmth of the sun, and it kisses my cheeks and welcomes me back home. I can finally breathe.

Something shifts and dislodges when you settle into your soul space. Here, you can let go, breathe freely and be at peace. Landscape can sometimes influence soul space, and if you hang there long enough, the two become a reflection of each other.  For me, that place is the beach. The rhythmic ebb and flow of the ocean perfectly matches my shifting moods. It settles me, reminding me that nothing is permanent, and no matter how bad a situation, it will change.  A sincere thank you for the reminder, Mother Nature.

I have been in flux all summer. Personal stuff. Professional stuff. I felt like I had lost my way.  I have started writing a new blog post every week since May. That's 17 unfinished essays, if you were wondering.  All unpublished. My writing was stuck because I was stuck. I had lost touch with my faith and my spirit. 

So I sought out the beach and sat. Week after week. And I realized I had no control over the actions of other people and the ensuing fallout of said actions. After many tears and banging my head against a proverbial wall, I finally came to the conclusion that all I could control was MY reaction to it. Some people just...suck. Sometimes life isn't fair. And sometimes having peace is better than being right. Move on. THINK. Clear your head space, revisit your soul space and fill your soul.

And that changed everything. I got back to being me. I read the Morning Prayer from Illuminata every day. I wrote awkwardly each morning, feeling the comforting pull of habit.  On the beach, looking out over the horizon and feeling the strength of the rising tide, I whisper to the Universe that I am not a victim, I am a child of God. Thanks for the reminder, Seane.

This video, and so many of my spiritual readings this summer, rekindled my passion and changed my internal landscape. It reminded me of what I can and should do.

I want to be in the spirituality and imagination business.

I want to continue to hold space for an ever-growing community of like-minded people.

I want to remind people that if you fall ten times, you need to get up eleven.

I want to reassure people it's going to be ok, no matter what is happening.

Because sooner or later, the tide will turn


we learn to ride out the waves.






Christmas Spirit


Christmas Spirit

Christmas Spirit is a finicky thing. You either have it or you don't. And sometimes getting it back can be a long and tricky road.

My Christmas spirit was quietly tucked away in a plastic box in a storage room in my basement. It's taken me 23 years to open that box that safely held my Mom's Christmas ornaments. Mom loved this time of year and reveled in buying perfect presents, wildly decorating the house, baking hundreds of Christmas cookies and, her favorite part, painstakingly trimming the tree. Her tree. It was lovingly decorated with ornaments from near and far. There were lopsided homemade ones made by her children. Others were gifts from friends who thought of her while on their vacations, and still others that she painstakingly collected in her travels through the years. The Christmas tree was her masterpiece and it was the family holiday centerpiece that we gathered around every night. Family time. She fiddled with ornament placement for weeks leading up to Christmas Eve. My Dad would teasingly ask her how certain ornaments got the prime front and center location on the tree while others were relegated to the back.  She patiently explained for the umpteenth time the method to her madness. An  endless mix of German and English Christmas records were stacked on the turntable and filled the living room with the rich sounds of her childhood and ultimately mine.  it's how we learned her native language. Oh Christmas Tree was Oh Tannenbaum in the Mancini household. Pigeon German, Pigeon Italian...English...a wonderful mix of cultures and generations. She loved every moment of it and so did we.





My Mom passed away in February 1994 after a four month long agonizing battle with cancer.  Cancer not only took my Mom, it also took my love for this holiday. It was too heavy and dark without her bright light to guide us. So I tucked Christmas away with the box of ornaments that I somehow ended up with.  It traveled with me through my many moves over the years, remaining unopened.


I don't know what shifted this year. I've come to peace with alot of things, and I guess I am finally ready to fold my Mom into my soul.  Silly me; she's been there all along, waiting. And it was time to pull the magic out again.

Tonight I grabbed the box from the basement, turned the lights down low and asked Alexa to play some Christmas carols for me. Andrea Bocelli's rich voice, singing in Italian, filled the room. (Alexa, by the way,  needs to brush up on her German) I carefully lifted the lid and there they were, Mom's treasures, carefully wrapped in tissue. As  I started to unwrap them, it all came flooding back, the stories behind these little pieces of brightly colored glass and wood. They were all there, just as I remembered: The shiny red and gold bulbs she coveted and stealthily stalked the day after Christmas at Jordan Marsh.  A happy group of mice that were hand sewn in Germany, and the Mouse King that I had made for her in Covent Garden when I lived in London.  I'm not sure why mice became a Christmas staple on her tree but they were adorable.  As I dug deeper through the tissue, I unwrapped the bulb that looked like it was dipped in stained glass, the bears that hung from the bell and the tiny wooden train that tracked among the branches.

There was one more that I needed to find. My favorite childhood ornament. The one she let me hang on the tree year after year after year. And at the very bottom of the box, nestled in the very last layer, there it was, exactly as I remembered it. Well, maybe a bit more worn but definitely still loved.



The tiny donkey in the clear glass bulb. I couldn't tell you what made this ornament special. It wasn't ornate,  quite plain actually, and the gold strands were fraying and falling off, but when you looked at the tiny figure was pure sweetness. I vaguely remember 7 year old me asking my Mom if he was one of the donkeys in the manger on Christmas Eve, and she said she thought he was. I believed her. I still do.

I pulled most of them out and carefully hung them on the tree.  I turned off the lights  and curled up in a chair and just took it all in.  Periodically I would lean forward and move an ornament, and then sit back and take it all in again. My Mom's spirit is here. Christmas is here. And I know it's going to be magical. Because she was magic.

For those of you missing a loved one during this holiday season,  my heart and love go out to you.

Merry Christmas to all, and may you find the magic in the coming week and upcoming year.





The Keeper of Our Souls


The Keeper of Our Souls

I've spent alot of time on the road these last months, serpentining my way across this beautiful country of ours. While it is usually a blessing to be on the move, lately it has been anything but, making me feel like a petulant child and really throwing off my balance spiritually,  professionally and personally. I've lived on a chokingly tight schedule and it seems like I'm always 30 minutes behind for everything.  When did 24 hours fail to be enough? My professional life seems hell bent on filling every second of my day and not leaving me any time to stop to fill my heart and soul. I have been trying to scrape together several minutes here and there, mostly on planes when I had little to no access, just to check out to check in. In those moments, I return to what always gives me solace and hope: words. 

Soul revitalization  through my 'written' roots'. 

I achingly revisit author Joseph Campbell's work, which I happened to find when I was in my 20's.

'We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.

The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.

Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls.'

 Follow Your Bliss. Live your life full tilt.  Follow Your Bliss became my mantra. My boyfriend at the time bought me a simple silver ring with this phrase inscribed on it and I never took it off.  That sliver of a band became my touchstone as I twirled it endlessly around my finger.

Over the years, Joseph Campbell was joined by Carolyn Myss (“What drains your spirit drains your body"),  Marianne Williamson (“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us."), Pema Chodron, ("You are the sky. Everything else – it’s just the weather.”) and a littany of other writers who put my thoughts and feelings into words perfectly. And it's not just spiritual writers. I can easily add James Lee Burke, Pam Houston, Barbara Kingsolver, John Irving, Patricia Briggs, Amor Towles and a littany of others too numerous to mention.  I feverishly and meticulously write their soul touching phrases in journals so I wouldn't forget them.

These words guided and grounded me at times when it was so desperately needed. And thankfully, they still do. Creative Communication, be it written or aural, is the perfect salve for what ails the soul.



We all need to take time and ultimately the responsibility to nurture the Souls that reside within us because, well, it affects all of us. We are made of the same stuff.  My friend Emily loves the roughly translated phrase from the Bhagavad Gita: 'The Universe is Made From Us.' 

We are the keepers of our Souls because we are the keepers of Us. What helps one helps all.

So when you are feeling like you're down a quart:

Find your words.

 Find Your Bliss.

Because we all need it.





Good Listens While Road Trippin'

It's that time of year again. The time of year when my fellow television carnies and I hit the road for another basketball season. We crisscross the country like gypsies and, instead of brightly covered wagons, our modes of transportation are gray and drab planes, trains and automobiles. I'm currently wedged into a gray stifling tube flying from Memphis home. Travel can be weather-tedious these next couple of months.( Stay out of Philly!!)  And, there's no better way to pass the time than with a good podcast. Whether you want to learn, escape, or be spiritually piqued, it's a wonderful way to pass the time. Don't know where to start? I gotcha. I asked some of my fellow Mavericks what their favorite podcasts were, and compiled a list for you to peruse and enjoy. Without further adieu and in no particular order:

The RobCast

My go-to for a Spiritual fix and weekly sermon. My 'road church.' His biography says, Rob Bell is a former pastor. Once a pastor, always a pastor,  albeit a surfing one. Rob gives the best podcast sermons - it's always relevant to what's going on in the world and he can turn a phrase with the best of them. He is also an author, has toured with Oprah and, in 2011, Time Magazine named him one of the 100 Most Influential People in the World. Take a listen and find out why. Love love love this.

Modern Love

Modern Love riffs off the popular New York Times column. With gloriously rich readings by celebrities and updates from the essayists themselves, you will fall in love at first listen. Seriously. 

Here's The Thing with Alec Baldwin

Confession: I have always loved Alec Baldwin. But the road warrior cynic in me doubted his interviewing skills. Wrong-o.  Here’s The Thing is "a series of intimate and honest conversations with artists, policy makers and performers – to hear their stories, what inspires their creations, what decisions changed their careers, and what relationships influenced their work." You will feel like the ultimate eavesdropper, and be oh-so-happy you did. 


If you love investigative journalism, you will love this! Season 2 captivated me as it meticulously combed through the complicated story of Bowe Bergdahl, the Army soldier who deserted his post and was captured by the Taliban. Riveting.

Revisionist History

Author Malcolm Gladwell (who wrote Outliers and The Tipping Point) hosts a mesmerizing and quirky podcast that will leave you with many eyebrow-scrunching moments. Each episode begins with an inquiry about a person, event, or idea, and proceeds to question the received wisdom about the subject. If you like clever and no bullshit, this one's for you.

You Made It Weird with Pete Holmes

I don't even know how to describe this one. Star of HBO's Crashing, Holmes interviews comics, athletes, singers and spiritual gurus. The conversations are in-depth and lengthy, covering everything from comedy to religion, spirituality and death, and - a personal favorite - the hardest time you ever laughed. If you only listen to one episode, PLEASE listen to his interview with Patrick Walsh. The Chicken.

You. Will. Cry.

 Recommendations that I have not yet listened to but definitely on my bucket list: 

Dirty John

Missing Richard Simmons

 Stay Tuned with Preet

CBS Eye on College Basketball


Please drop me a line and let me know if you have other suggestions to share. Comments always welcome! 












Letting Go

Fall pointedly shows us how to let go. As one season ends and another begins, Nature shifts and restructures and hunkers down for the inevitable change. Brilliantly colored leaves gloriously decorate spindly tree limbs, and slowly, with the kiss of a breeze, reluctantly release and float effortlessly to the ground. Stubborn leaves cling for dear life, and Mother Nature, instead of whispering on the wind, determinedly becomes the ultimate blowhard and forces the issue. LET. GO.

Why do we hold onto things that no longer serve us?  

Because change is hard. There is safety in the known, even if it impedes our growth. We stay in the uncomfortable because we are afraid to feel anything that makes us feel...well...uncomfortable. Know what happens then?  

We get what we tolerate.   

I had this conversation with my friend, Dr. Melody Moore, a couple of months ago in a cozy southwest-decorated room in Taos, New Mexico. I pointedly asked the good doctor: 'When things turn to shit, how do we know it is time to move on?' Without skipping a beat, she said:

'As soon as you realize it’s shit.'

So brilliant in its simplicity that it bears repeating: 'as soon as you realize it's shit.'

I'm not telling you it will be easy. It won't be. Doing our work is really hard. I will tell you that it will be worth it.

So where to begin? 




do your damn dharma.jpg

Simplify. Get organized. Do the small tasks, the minute tasks, easily accomplished, and build upon that.

Sift through your soul and see what is resonating in your life. Note what isn't.

Make lists. It's a visual reminder of what needs to be done.

Talk to your inner circle. Get a second and third opinion and be open to new ideas and options.

Make a move. Never let uncertainty, uncomfortable-ness and 'the shit' deter you from being who you are meant to be.

Think of it as the Universe nudging your soul, and your soul pointing you in another direction.



So Embrace the new season.

Embrace change.

Let go of anything that no longer serves you.

And watch and listen to Mother Nature, she has it right.


Urban Decay


Urban Decay


I have been thinking a lot about communication these past few weeks. How we communicate, what we communicate, and how different words can mean different things to different people. How words can be so achingly beautiful and welcoming and yet at other times be used as weapons to deliberately hurt people. These blog ideas started to get unwieldy, so I am going to break them up into separate blogs.

Communication Part 1:

It all started a couple of weeks ago when I met Jem, a super smart twenty-something with long blonde hair and old soul blue eyes.  Jem oozes a quiet self-confidence as she glides around a room. She isn’t one of those women that instantly commands attention, that’s not her style. But Jem subtly owns it as soon as she quietly takes it all in.  She's a Buddhist and a student pastor for believers and non believers alike. She is one of those people you just want in your circle. Someone you would ride or die for.

Her vernacular is scattered with colorful colloquialisms.... did I mention she's super smart and never throws shade

Yeah, I had to look that one up too. The Urban Dictionary now sits right next to Webster's on my desktop, in app form of course. I am learning a new language that I'm tentatively navigating. It incorporates more slang and less use of $5 words. It's a bit campy, usually lit, and terribly entertaining when it's properly used and easily rolled off the tongue.

I'm learning a lot. While those in the over-40 crowd have a tendency to be verbose, Gen-Xers, millennials and the younger-not-yet-named generation do not. They speak in short, catchy phrases that twist traditional meanings into hipper, initially unintelligible quips that soon become mainstream once it hits the masses. Welcome to  the new normal. Voila, a new form of communicating.


Isn’t that the way it historically goes? Each generation cyclically turns a phrase to make it theirs, to subtly set them apart from their parents and grandparents. When we do this,  we unintentionally (or intentionally) cause a breach, and this breach makes it really hard to successfully communicate in our melting pot of a country.

We should strive for a common language for all of us to use.  Embrace our differences, use them to our advantage and make a new hipster language for everyone to understand. Kind and compassionate can be the underlying base.   Squad Goals


In a perfect world, yes. But we are not perfect. Check out what’s happening in our country right now.…That is a perfect seque into part 2….



ps Thank you Jem, for being an inspiration. You truly are a gem, no matter how you spell it. xoxo


Squad Goal

(skwäd/ɡōl) (noun) (plural noun: squad goals): an inspirational term for what you’d like your group of friends to be or accomplish. Used best when placed at the end of a directional statement.

throw shade

to talk trash about a friend or aquaintance, to publicly denounce or disrespect. When throwing shade it's immediately obvious to on-lookers that the thrower, and not the throwee, is the bitcy, uncool one


Camp (n.) and Campy (adj.): Being so extreme that it has an amusing and sometimes perversely sophisticated appeal. Over the top and farcical, intentionally exaggerated so as not to be taken seriously. 


When something is turned up or popping ...



The Whispers of the Southwest


The Whispers of the Southwest


This Northeastern girl is in constant motion. Movement is my meditation (or so I tell myself.) My Mom used to call me a 'runner'…not only in the true physical definition of the word, but a mental runner. I flit from place to place, never quite landing anywhere, one step ahead of my psyche.  I’m trying to change that. Settle in, stay put, dig deeper, share and feel.


I am currently in Taos, New Mexico at a writing retreat.'s writing time. The silence is deafening. I'm sitting in a tree-canopied courtyard where the sun dapples over the uneven cobblestones and brightly painted tiles.  Butterflies lazily float from flower to flower-the ultimate flitters- in search of sweetness. Colorful ceramic chickens and roosters are silently perched above me, the Southwest’s version of garish gargoyles.   

There’s not a cloud in the bright blue sky and the breeze caresses my skin almost sensually. To my left is a statue of St Francis, who is stoically holding court, silently offering water from a bowl he tirelessly holds. Time stands still here.  Yet my busy brain keeps returning to this question:

Is there anything more frightening to a runner than having to slow down? Because you know what happens then, right?


You. Are. Seen.


And there it is.


Like a deer in the headlights. Frozen. Stuck to the spot by fear. Seen. Stupid Southwest time warp.

I inhale deeply and try to noisily exhale, but the air comes out as a soft sigh. I grab some much needed water to ease the altitude-induced ache behind my eyes.  I try to take it all in. The beauty in the simplicity. I let the feelings of inadequacy and restlessness wash over me and slowly dissipate. I come from a place of feeling as opposed to doing. I start to make notes.  I listen. And I begin to hear what the Southwest whispers.

And just like that…there it is.


  'Take it all in. It’s ok to slow down.  Savor the silence. It will feed and salve your soul.  It will open up the logjam of creativity. Feel the energy of this part of the country beneath your feet. How does it resonate? Does it not feel familiar?’ the land whispers into my ear via the breeze.

 'Same yet different', I whisper back.  'The underlying current is eerily familiar, but the dusty red dirt and mountainous terrain? Oh so different.'

‘SAME.’ The whisper insists. ‘It’s all the same.’

We are all the same.

No matter where we live, what we do, what we look like on the outside…it’s the same on the inside.  That’s why there’s a familiarity to it all, a sense of home.

As I settle into my surroundings, I can breathe easier. I soften my edges, lean into my spirit. I close my eyes and listen again.

The Southwest seeps into my Northeast soul and wisely shares this knowledge:

We are all bundles of insecurity and self doubt. Terrified about things that are unfamiliar. We all struggle, period.  We all experience fear. We must know it’s ok. It’s part of what makes us human.

We all feel it. 

Because we all feel. We all vibrate with the same emotions, the same energy.  

Because we are human, and because we are One.




Kerri Walsh Jennings and I have a couple of things in common.

We are both tall.

We both live on the coasts of the US: Kerri on the west coast, me on the east. 

We are both Lululemon ambassadors.

She's a professional volleyball player who loves her sport. 

I am...not... but I  love sports. 

OK, so maybe we don't have a TON in common. But she recently said something that struck a chord:

She doesn't want to be perfect.


Me? I'm looking for progress, not perfection.


I preach it in my classes. A student wrote it on her mat. It's one of my mantras. Trying to achieve perfection is a total waste of time and energy. Perfection is elusive, usually unattainable and definitely not sustainable. 

It's much more interesting to look for the seemingly minute gains that creep up on you. A work task gets a little easier, a bike ride a little longer, a back-bend a bit bendier. It's about having the self-discipline to keep showing up in the world, every day,  and trying. 

I walked the Camino last year....156 miles in 9 days. Near the end, I saw this sign: 

I'm not here to get to the goal. 

I'm here to do every single step. 


Not perfection.

On point.











Opportunity is a funny thing. It can send you over the moon or kick you in the butt. 

So what do you do? Grab at it no matter what? Balk in indecision or fear and walk away? Or, do you mull it over, see if the opportunity is right for you, then decide? 

My usual M-O was to do the former. Leap, and the net will appear. Well, sometimes it didn't, and I spiraled in a free fall, frantically grasping at anything to break my fall. 

I perseverated into the wee hours of the morn over decisions that I should have thought out with my heart and soul, instead of out of fear of missing out or disappointing someone. Professionally. Personally. I was putting the best for others ahead of what was best for me. Thinking of others and never asking myself what I wanted or needed.  I found solace and twisted redemption by silently placing blame on circumstances or the opportunity itself. That didn't feel right either. So, I'd lay low for a bit, pull myself up by my bootstraps and then, well, suck it up and move on.  Soul singed but a bit wiser.

Hey, at least I tried.

Well....yes and no. Follow your gut. There's a reason an opportunity doesn't feel right. 

 You know what else I've realized?

Screw the ideas of fear and failure. 

I used to jokingly say that fear and failure were my best motivators. That is a sad statement and no way to live.  You need to take an opportunity for the right reasons. Sometimes you will succeed, and sometimes you won't. 


Live in integrity with an opportunity. Integrity is, according to Dr. Melody Moore, when what you feel, say, do and think are in alignment so you are less reactive. It is okay for an opportunity to come along that is not right for you. You are not obligated to take it. Conversely, If an opportunity arises and it feels right in your gut and Soul, go for it. 

I have tried this and it has blossomed in ways I could only dream about. Opportunities to teach workshops, assist for amazing local, national and international teachers, and integrate my writing into my yoga practice and classes. Exploring avenues in television work. Taking a leap of faith in myself and saying yes to a writing workshop in Taos (which, by the way, scares the bejeezus out of me in a really good way).  The right opportunities beget additional right opportunities. 

Fear is not a motivator, my Maverick friends, it is a liar and a trickster. It makes up stories. Faith, on the other hand, is your steady and true companion. 

Opportunity in integrity puts you in alignment.

You do You. 

For You.

And that's the best reason of all.








Role Model


Role Model

I am not a role model. 

I repeat.

I. am. not. a. role. model.

Last night two of my favorite people in the world got into a heated discussion about role models. For them, role models are admired because they look and act differently, thus making it okay for every little girl to feel great in their own skin. I was then asked who was my role model when I was growing up. 

My mind went blank. And silent. And empty.

I didn't have one.

I slightly panicked as they pressed.

And then my heart sank as my favorite little one in the whole world told me I was her role model.  

What. The. Fuck.  

It took me 24 hours to regain my composure. One of those peeps joined me on a really long car ride to New Jersey the next day. I thought we would sing and laugh and talk soccer. I was so caught up in my own damn head that I had shut down and couldn't snap out of it.

These beautiful and wonderful women have no idea that I didn't feel comfortable in my skin for a really long time. I made a lot of mistakes. I grew up in an era of learning the hard way. There were no role models. There were no women doing what I wanted to do. No parents that were in my chosen field. I didn't think about it, never considered not trying, I just got shit done. I was lucky enough to earn opportunities that sometimes took me in way over my head. Sometimes I struggled in the water. Sometimes I swam effortlessly. I never drowned.  

I am not a role model.

I am a survivor. 

No one sees that for just about every success I had, there was a ton of hard work, angst, frustration, and sleepless nights. And failure. The feelings of not being worthy, of being a fraud, overwhelmed me at times. No one saw that. Well, maybe one boyfriend who looked down at me as I lay on the kitchen floor in a tired, panicked moment of self-doubt. He told me to suck it up.  (Note: Don't EVER say that to anyone. It does NOT motivate.)

I am not a role model.

I am a grinder. I learned at the school of hard knocks.  I worked really hard to get the basics done. I failed at relationships. A LOT. I said the wrong things and acted stupidly. Hardly role model material. 

After I dropped my friend off last night, I gave myself a mental kick in the ass and thought about people I love who have qualities I admire:

My friend Todd, who is as loyal as the day is long, smart as a whip, always offers a strong shoulder and is a damn fine drinking partner.

My friend Dennis, one of the most talented directors I know and an even more stellar person. And, funny as shit when the shit hits the fan.

My brother John, who always seems to keep HIS shit together no matter what life throws at him. 

My bff Debbie, who is stronger mentally, physically and emotionally than just about any person I know. rockstar traveling companion who is always headed in the right direction, even though she sometimes feels she is off course.  I admire her raw honesty and her ponytail is always on point.

Aly, who is tirelessly working in a man's world. Welcome to the club, sweets.

Tim...because he is super smart, and funny and just...Tim.

And Brenda...hands down to the kindest and most loyal person ever.

I could go on and on. They are all loving, rock solid, talented, intelligent, funny as hell, sometimes insecure and vulnerable, and usually self-deprecating. 

They are 'live-ers', givers, and pseudo-sinners and I love them with all my heart. 

Because they...WE... try really hard, and by hook or by crook, succeed at what we do. Professionally...personally....quietly.

Mavericks, for sure.

Trailblazers, definitely.

And yes, role models.  Unknowingly. 

















Maverick souls: listen up.





'It's time for transition. ' 



'what is spirit's highest vision of itself as me in human form?'

Whoa. Holy shit. 

Take a minute and roll that over your tongue. Digest it. WAIT. Back it up. What is Spirit?

What is Spirit to you? What does Spirit look like?  How does it feel when you try to wrap it around your brain and swirl it around your heart and Soul?  

I believe Spirit is in all of us. It is all of us. Spirit is the universal energy that links all sentient beings together, . We are made of Spirit. We are Spirited. Spirit is innate and intangible but oh-so rock solid when our faith is strong. One of the most amazing things about Spirit is we can shape it into whatever we want it to be

Now think big picture. When we are in transition, everything changes. Our life becomes an opportunistic journey to return this beautiful spark inside of us back to Source in a smarter, kinder, more empathetic and brighter light. 

Spirit experiences life through us and we get to make the collective Whole stronger and better through the sliver

You=Spirit=Universal energy=One.


It's also a daunting responsIbility. What if we make a wrong decision? Take a wrong path? What if we disappoint, are inadequate or don't live up to our potential? What if we fall and fail?

The truth is, you may make a wrong decision. You may take a wrong path. That's how you learn. You will disappoint. You will fall and fail.  That is a part of growth.

GET UP. Don't be afraid of the fall. Falling teaches us not to get attached to perfection. 

Make a decision. And then another. Say yes to success.  Rise and grind.    

Today, choose one thing in your life you want to change and go for it. For me, it is the discipline of writing.

Tap into your Spirit. Your Maverick Soul.

Onwards and upwards.


You got this. 

Because you have Spirit.










Silence and Collaboration

Silence and Collaboration

Sitting in silence.


The Silence is deafening.

So you wait some more.

And soon there are stirrings in the soul. The Universe...Spirit...the God of your own understanding...begins to whisper. The longer you remain still, the clearer it becomes.  As it resonates in your soul, the idea adheres to the fibers of your being. If nothing is done, it begins to fade.

You are left with a decision. 

Do you act? Remain silent? The choice is yours. 

Everything is energy, the foundation or core to every being. Everything is One. This idea that was floating around the atmosphere chose YOU to realize it. if you choose to ignore it, the energy will move on to find another soul to collaborate with. The Universal nudge will find a way to make its ideas a reality.

But what if you acted upon it? What if you took this idea and ran with it, realized it? Brought it to fruition? What if something you did created a positive change that had a domino effect for more positive change? 

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us.  ~Marianne Williamson

Maverick Souls jump in. Maverick Souls may be afraid, but they bulldoze their way through the fear. 

Maverick souls get shit done. 

Everyone has a bit of maverick in their soul. Tap into it. The world needs you. Now more than ever.