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I have never considered myself a poet. Like, ever. But I was sitting in the cafe in Irby, and felt struck with the need to be one in that moment. It kind of led me to a momentary identity crisis, and then I decided to lead with my creativity rather than my fear. Love was the outcome. No.1 english gentlemen. Englishmen. go ahead. call me your darling. call me your love. give me your silent winks. subtley sexy, yet intensely intimate. just for a moment, grace me with all of your focus. it’s lovely.

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Little English cafes teach us something… There’s always time for a cup of tea and a chat. That’s just the English way. We slow down enough to ask the question, to listen to the story, to pay close attention. We just pop over for a cuppa. But what a treat to stop by the cafe, the daytime hub of the village, to have a chat. (Note : At nighttime that would be the pub.) 😉 Cafes (or coffee shops to my American tribe) have expanded their original function. It’s a beautiful thing. Now, rather than simply connect with local lovelies, we have the opportunity to reach a global audience and receive a global perspective. What a gift! Maybe you’re reading this from a cafe far away? In this expansion, though, we can’t forget how they served us originally : a meeting space to listen and be heard, to find connection…

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Driving on the left is kind of like life. So many friends + family expressed their fear and surprise that I was ready to drive on the left during this trip to England. But won’t you be nervous? How can you be sure? What about all the things that can happen? My pragmatic nature coupled with my stubborn streak won out. It just makes sense to rent a car given the terrain. Plus, if it scares me, then there is a good chance I need to say fuck fear and do it anyway. And you know what? I was right. It has been WAY better having the freedom that comes with a car. Plus, I learned a thing or two. Let’s be real, you guys. Growth usually comes when you say fuck fear.  Drive on the left || Live in the now 1. Leaders / Drivers don’t react; they anticipate. In this case, anticipate your reaction.…

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Going to church is simply part and parcel of a souladventure. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Calm your jets! I don’t mean sitting in mass or kneeling on hard wood pews or kissing a holy book. I mean just BEING in a space of spiritual depth. Letting that light weight sink into your bones. Souls // identity // being // we, at our core, are attached to the spiritual realm of this whole life thing. Souladventures, for me, are about getting lost as a way to find truth. Like it or not, to get to your truth you have to seek that next dimension, whether you call it the Universe // God // the Holy Instant // Vortex // Other. Putting the (dis)belief of organized religion aside, there’s no denying the spiritual presence felt in the longest church in the world. The Liverpool Cathedral. To be quite frank, I didn’t know this…

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A few weeks ago I posted (or should I say boasted) that I hadn’t been sick in all of 2016! Despite the facts that I taught Kindergarten for 5 months, moved back home, traveled to Coach Summit + California + the Outer Banks, I hadn’t a sniffle or a sneeze. How BADASS am I right? [Insert rolling eyes emoji here.] Take a wild guess what happened at the turn of the new year? Yep. You got it. I got sick. OK. So how? My Dad is at home hacking up a lung, but I can’t possibly get sick, right?! So I pat his head (poor papa),  go out to lunch, and eat half of this piece of cake. And it was delicious. And I felt zero guilt. I did, however, notice symptoms the next day. It wasn’t because I ate cake. It was because I ate a high-sugar food, spiking my…

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