Have you ever felt so frustrated with your life circumstances, you feel like tearing your hair out and screaming?

Or, have you ever had days your life circumstances felt so heavy that you felt helpless in the face of them?

This past winter, I felt both. My mood, most of the time, reflected the weather–in turns dismal and furious, with small spots of sunshine and hope here and there

This spring, that frustration and sadness came to a head. I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I was so done with playing small, so done with repeating the same excuses over and over again of why I couldn’t chase my dreams:

“I don’t have enough time!” I’d say as I scrolled Facebook for an hour.

“I don’t have enough money!” I’d say as I went out to eat for the third time that week.

“What if people don’t like me or don’t want to hear what I have to say?” I’d worry, as friends texted that they loved and missed me, and as people complimented my writing, and as people at the local open mic praised my poetry.

“But I’ll never be as successful as so-and-so . . . “ I’d say as so-and-so successful person posts about the same doubts, insecurities, and fears they had at the beginning of their career, and that they still have sometimes.

I internally yelled, “NO.” I’m shutting that shit down.

This waning moon, I’m releasing baseless excuses. I’m releasing fear of fear, I’m releasing fear of rejection, fear of judgment, fear of scarcity. I’m releasing hopelessness.

In the space in myself and my life created by that releasing, I am drawing in abundance.

I am drawing in abundance of time, abundance of finances, abundance of resources, abundance of loving support. I am drawing in courage: the courage to be as the water which, when it meets an obstacle, finds, unrelenting yet peaceful, a way around it, singing in the process of reaching its ultimate destination.

I am drawing in the courage to use my abundance of time, finances, resources, and support in service of my highest good and the highest good of all and the earth.

I am drawing in the courage to act in service of my vision.

And I have a vision.

When I close my eyes, it is there, dripping in gold like the sun on morning rain. A vision that has half-haunted me for years, in dreams and whispers; a vision that has, lately, been showing itself to me in glorious detail.


You are standing in a gazebo with an incredible diameter, whose wood shines in the afternoon sun. A fire pit sits in the middle of it, smelling of last night’s bonfire. All around the gazebo are thriving gardens with numerous paths running throughout them.

The gardens are astoundingly abundant: there are fruit trees, innumerable vegetables, fragrant edible and medicinal herbs. They are both decorative and functional.

As you gaze out over the gardens from the peaceful shade, you see buildings arrayed in a rough circle, and you realize that the gardens and paths connect the buildings to the gazebo. Beyond and between the buildings are the stuff of daily human life–playgrounds for children, yards to run in, dogs playing, cats napping, goats and cows grazing, bees buzzing about hives, ponds and streams singing in the light.

The buildings are diverse: personal houses and huts are interspersed between workshops, storage huts, greenhouses, a meeting hall, and what looks to be a spiritual center.

You breathe in the scent of clean air and lush plants. You feel an expansive hope in your chest, and realize that this is what community should feel like: wild, yet everything makes sense; safe, yet open to growth; communal, yet every household self-sustaining; idyllic, yet real, open to change; a feeling of immense blessing within even the most tricky challenge.


I’m not even sure when this vision will become manifest in physical reality. Perhaps I will see it happen in a few years–maybe it won’t be until I’m much older.

But I do know that this vision, this big vision, will never happen if I live small, if I think small, if I’m always making excuses why it can’t happen, why I can’t do it.

It can. I can.

Because I am like water–when I meet an obstacle, I flow around it, singing all the while as I make my way to my vision, because I already am that vision.

I am so thankful for that moment when my frustration peaked and broke me open–I am so thankful for the moment I was broken open to new opportunities to grow, new possibilities to change myself and my life, new ways to support myself in reaching my vision.

I am so thankful for remembering I do have the time–I just have to prioritize my true self and my vision.

I am so thankful for remembering I am worthy of loving support from the world around me, and from within me.

I am so thankful for remembering to love the process, and that loving the process is the success.

I am so thankful for finding a beautiful, heart-centered way to support my process and my vision–a way that honors my highest good, the highest good of my loved ones, the highest good of my community, and the highest good of the earth herself.

And most of all, I am thankful for those who witness me as I walk this path. I am thankful for those who support me with their love and compassionate feedback as I move through this process of releasing fear, and drawing in the courage to honor my highest purpose and my beautiful vision.

We are abundant.

When one of us frees ourselves from fear,

We give others the permission to free themselves.


What is your vision?



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