Monthly Archives: August 2025

Connecting, Connection, Life Experiences, Valuing Differences

Love More Than Fear

I catch myself scrolling. Some of it is work—travel arrangements, bookings for Mojo, helping with CrisMarie’s travel. But much more is Retriever reels or Taylor Swift updates. I know it’s not healthy. I’d be better off reading, writing, or going for a bike ride. Yet here I sit, telling myself I’ve got something important to say.

And maybe I do.

Because here’s the truth: women are signing up for Find Your Mojo in Montana. It’s happening. That could be enough to pull me out to the ranch, to the horses, to the fresh air. Instead, I’ve only gone as far as researching lodging for those who want to stay outside of town.

So what gives?

This morning I was inspired by a channeling podcast—part of the Course in Miracles work we’ve been doing. Yes, channeled information. From what the speaker calls a collective of beings, including Jesus. Maybe that sounds strange. But is it stranger than believing we’re the smartest species in the universe while destroying our planet and waging endless wars?

Here’s the challenge:
What if wisdom comes from beyond our five senses?
What if reality isn’t limited to what our culture insists is “rational”?
What if we’ve been so busy rejecting what we can’t measure that we’ve blinded ourselves to the very love and intelligence keeping us alive?

The message I heard this morning was this:
Clear your mind. Step out of ego.
Get out in nature. Listen deeper.
See beyond the surface.

Because the deeper truth is this: we are not separate. We are connected. Survival mode is an ego trap. Our cultures are built on it—fight, compete, win, dominate. But what if that’s upside down? What if we’re eternal beings and this earthly classroom exists not for survival but for remembering? For returning to love?

Despite everything—our arrogance, our denial, our wars—we are still here. And it’s not because of our brilliance. It’s because of the heart. The pulse of love inside each of us, in the animals, in the earth itself. That love keeps erupting, interrupting, rerouting us toward something greater.

Fear contracts. Love expands.
Fear isolates. Love connects.
Fear clings to survival. Love opens to possibility.

Yes, we have free will. We can keep choosing fear, fighting to exist. Or—we can take the harder, braver path: to love more than we fear.

Extinction is one option. Awakening is another.

That’s my quest now. To live less from fear, more from love.
What about you?

FYI: I am on my way out to the ranch!

Community, Connecting, Connection, Life Experiences

The Heart of The Haven: Grief, Growth, and The Power of Connection

Over the forty-plus years I’ve been involved with The Haven, countless people have become woven into the fabric of my life. Many of them for decades. Some are still here, though too many are now gone—some far too young, some older, and some who simply seemed to complete with what they came to do on this earth. When I pause, the grief of those losses still rolls through me.

And then there are others—the ones who are alive but no longer return to The Haven. I don’t always know why. For me, every time I’ve come back—whether to lead, to participate, or simply to reconnect—I’ve found nourishment and meaning. Yet, for some, that return no longer calls them.

The Haven itself is in an evolutionary process. Things change—and they need to. Still, I hold deep belief in the core programs, especially Come Alive. It is a rare and beautiful invitation to wake up to ourselves, to one another, and to life. I also believe in the training process that helps people grow into facilitators of deep connection—learning to relate, collaborate, and create across differences of culture, background, and experience. That work is transformative, and it matters.

But I also recognize that it may not be enough, on its own, to sustain The Haven as it has been. Others will have their own visions of what needs to emerge. At our recent faculty meeting, I loved hearing our new Executive Director speak of the “miracle moments” that have unfolded on that small piece of land. It’s true. So many miracles have happened there. And yet, the miracles didn’t stay confined to Gabriola. They traveled outward—carried by all of us—into families, workplaces, communities, and the wider world.

I now find myself part of many communities: Dr. Joe’s circle of coherent healers and advanced meditators, a Course in Miracles group, the Herd for Equus Coaching community, and many more. Some gather in large numbers, some only online, some with connections that ebb and flow. Yet all remain in my heart, part of my resonance field.

What I notice is this: the communities that nourish me most are the ones that hold space for difference, where connection matters more than credentials. At the same time, I’ve come to appreciate that every community needs some structure or resource to sustain itself—whether through credentials, program fees, or gatherings that draw people together. Without that, even the most meaningful communities can fade.

The Haven has always been, at its heart, about people daring to be real with one another. That feels as needed today as it ever was. What shape it needs to take going forward—that is still unfolding.

I too, am unfolding and evolving. Next up for me: Find Your Mojo in Montana and we are bringing back after some time away with some new vibrations. It’s a great combination of Haven and Equus . Join us in October!

Here’s a little taste:

Business, Connecting, Embracing Unknown, Leadership

Community Through a Life of Pop-Ups

Leadership – Living it, Loving it, Learning within it
Pop-Ups for People
Pop-Up Communities

I think this is my work—my calling.

For a long time, I judged myself for not being a “good” community member. I thought that meant having lifelong friends, deep roots in one place, and strong ties to where I lived or worked. But my life hasn’t followed that pattern.

I’ve never worked in one company for decades. I don’t have children. I lived on Gabriola for ten years, Whitefish, MT since 2008. My longest-standing commitment may be be to The Haven, where I arrived in 1983. Over the years, I’ve been a participant, cleaner, registrar, intern, assistant, leader, part of the Education Steering group, and now the Education Council. But I don’t live there—and I still remember Ben saying, “This is not a community—it’s a business.”

Thrive! has been my longest work engagement—since our 2002 launch—yet it has evolved through many versions of clients, services, and ways of working.

I transformed my life at Haven, learned loving in my relationship of 25 years with CrisMarie but community I still struggled to figure out why that seemed so hard.

Recently, after a coaching session, I started thinking about “community” differently. I realized I’m very good at creating pop-up communities.

A pop-up community can be anything—a project, a start-up, a couple, a family, a movement, even a counrty. The United States itself began as one: people united around the idea of freedom. When Washington became the first President, he didn’t want the job, but there was a group of people determined to create something new, free from Britain and the Church. They had to figure out how to operate as a community. The Declaration of Independence and their efforts to separate church and state were attempts—imperfect but remarkable—to protect freedom.

The two greatest challenges to any community or organization are time and size.

  • In the early days, when the vision is fresh, energy flows and possibility feels limitless.
  • Over time, those with history become protective or defensive of what they helped build.
  • As size grows, a few leaders end up trying to defend and direct something that may need to evolve.

Every project, business, or relationship has to keep changing—recognizing both its strengths and its growing pains.

For me, that’s where leadership comes in and down to three things:

  1. Living – Not just creating something, but staying connected to the aliveness within it.
  2. Loving – Not clinging or defending, but loving in an active, trusting way—even when you don’t always like something happening.
  3. Learning within it – Staying humble, knowing there’s always more to discover, and being willing to listen and see new possibilities.

Leadership isn’t a title—it’s the choice to show up fully. Communities “pop up” everywhere, all the time. The people may change, but the energy of community is constant. It’s like a spiritual frequency we can tune into.

When we lose that trust and connection, what was alive can fade. But when we stay open, community—like communication—becomes eternal, even if no single form lasts forever.

I used to want to be like an old-growth cedar—deeply rooted and unchanging. Now, I see the wisdom in being more like bamboo—flexible, resilient, able to spring up anywhere.

Ultimately, it’s about knowing how to show up and engage in the moment. That’s what allows a community to truly commune. It may not be forever—but it is eternal.

Communication, Connecting, Connection, Leadership, Valuing Differences, Vulnerability

The Power — and Challenge — of Being Immediate in Community

When I’m in the middle of a rich, real community moment, I want to be all in. I want to name what’s happening, address it, and keep the connection alive right now.
That urgency can be a gift — and sometimes, a challenge.

I’m a very immediate person.
Sometimes that comes across as pressure or like it’s “all about me.”

At the recent Haven Faculty meeting — a deep, rich, and swirly experience — I threw myself into what I call a “pop-up community.” For me, the Haven is the best place to strengthen my skills in real, relational, and self-responsible living. It happens in programs, leadership, weekend meetings, and even online. But it takes intention — being present with what’s visible and invisible, owning mistakes, laughing, crying, and practicing patience.

That patience is my growth edge. In the moment, I often feel a strong urge to address issues right away, fearing they’ll grow if left alone. I’ve learned to speak my truth, then step back if others aren’t ready, leaving with clarity when I’ve invited full exchange.

Not everyone processes instantly. Sometimes insights or tensions surface later, away from the group. As a leader, I want to get better at supporting that — whether through a follow-up process, online sharing, or other ways to integrate after the fact. It’s one reason I’m developing Camp Connection.

I left the weekend with a few incompletes, so I’m reaching out, reflecting, and staying connected to that community energy as long as I can — to integrate, to strengthen both the branches and the heart of Haven, and to keep showing up real, relational, and self-responsible.

Communication, Connecting, Embracing Unknown, Leadership, Vulnerability

Coming Alive Is Questionable – Check With Yourself Before Entry

On a morning walk during our recent faculty weekend, I passed this small campground with a curious sign:

AREA QUESTIONABLE – See Supervisor Before Entry

It made me laugh—and then it made me think. Later in the day as we gathered as a faculty, I realized it was the perfect metaphor for our topic: The Haven’s Code of Ethics.

The intent of the code is good—to offer process and clarity, to provide a path for complaints, and to protect the Haven, its faculty, and participants. But here’s the challenge: our real purpose is to create a community where people can Come Alive and be fully themselves. And “protecting” that? I’m not sure it’s possible—or even helpful.

Which brings me back to that sign. Maybe, I thought, ours should read:

Coming Alive Is Questionable – Check With Yourself Before Entry

What if a code of ethics wasn’t a rigid set of right/wrong rules, but an invitation into dialogue? Legal language tends to close doors with absolutes. Coming alive is messier—it lives in the grey, the “questionable area.” And maybe that’s okay.

That campground, after all, was a beautiful, vibrant place for kids and adults. Yes, there were risks. But life—real, alive life—always carries risk.

I’ll admit, I’ve had a complicated history with codes of ethics. As a therapist, patient, healthcare provider, and business owner, I’ve mostly seen them as legal shields—documents crafted to prevent lawsuits rather than foster connection. So when I first heard The Haven was deep-diving into a new code, my walls went up. This place I love for its realness, mistakes, and growth suddenly sounded like it was drafting hospital paperwork.

But thanks to Jane K and the commitment of our faculty to wrestle with this, something shifted. I started to hear that this wasn’t about legal cover—it was about creating a shared path through conflict, a way to open dialogue before we ever head toward litigation.

It won’t be perfect. No document can guarantee safety or resolve every dispute. But if we keep it living, breathing, and grounded in relationship rather than bureaucracy, it can serve our purpose: to support people in the vulnerable, risky, beautiful work of Coming Alive.

The sign still says it best: safety not guaranteed—enter at your own risk. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the point.

Connecting, Connection, Embracing Unknown, Life Experiences

Launching Camp Connection

I am moving into new territory. Not only with my mother’s passing and all the changes and shifts that brings, but also in my relationship to Haven.

Haven itself is evolving, finding its own way forward. I hadn’t fully considered how much that would influence my own life and choices. But as I’ve gone through this time of loss and reflection, I realized how intertwined Haven has been in my journey of becoming.

When I first came to the Haven, I arrived with my sister, Penny. I had cancer and was told I likely had only six months to live. It was a way for us to be together in the time I thought I had left. That first Come Alive changed the trajectory of my life.

In many ways, I grew up there. I trained there. I learned, healed, and received so much. And as best I could, I tried to give back. Without Haven, I don’t believe I would have repaired the fractures in my family or created the meaningful relationships—like the one I have with CrisMarie—that sustain me.

And yet, everything is shifting.

The funny thing about Haven is that, in many ways, it felt like re-living camp. I lived on an island. We were adults instead of children, gathered around charismatic leaders—brilliant, imperfect, and human. I loved them, and at times I wanted to knock them off their pedestals.

Now, so many of the people who shaped my experience are gone. I still find myself wrestling with how to keep the core of what I loved alive. But I’m beginning to see that this is no longer my role—or my desire.

I want to let those cords dissolve. I want to allow myself to be re-created and Haven as well.

So, I find myself called to launch something new:

✨ Camp Connection

For now, Camp Connection will be an online community. A space—not a place—where we can come together to connect, grow, and remember who we are beneath the stories and the armor.

Here is the vision I hold:

Vision Statement for Camp Connection
Camp Connection is not a place—it is a space we create together.

It is a space where we set aside the walls that keep us apart and step into the aliveness of authentic connection. Where the elements that shape us—our stories, our experiences, our differences, and our dreams—are honored and welcomed.

Camp Connection can arise anywhere: around a campfire, in a boardroom, or across a circle of chairs. Wherever we gather with courage and curiosity, we discover the possibility that lives within and between us.

Here, we are invited to listen deeply, to share openly, and to remember that belonging is not given to us—it is something we co-create.

Camp Connection is a call to come together in wonder, to awaken what is dormant, and to build community grounded in respect, empathy, and shared purpose.

It starts with a Mighty Network—already set up (complete with a few misspellings!). But ready to begin.

If you feel curious or called to join me, here’s an invitation: Camp Connection on Mighty Netorks.

Connecting, Embracing Unknown, Life Experiences, Uncategorized

Living Untethered After Good Bye

Me and my sisters Melissa and Penny

Home

My friend Paula kept gently telling me that at some point, I’d feel the shift.

Maybe it would come with exhaustion. Maybe with freedom.

But it would come.

I thought the riptide I felt in my mother’s final days was that shift.

Then came another wave — a vortex of emotion — as I worked on the memorial videos and prepared to travel to Seattle to celebrate her life.

Again, it was Paula who reminded me to stay present. To feel my way through the day.

And I did my best. It was a beautiful day — full of tears, joy, connection, and letting go.

Now I’m home. And the energy has shifted again.

I’m exhausted — and also floating a bit, untethered.

Some of the stories and memories I’ve always held so clearly… don’t quite hold the same meaning anymore.

Something’s rearranging.

As I tried to explain this new feeling — and wrestled with what I should do next — my friend Robin gently interrupted.

She said, “You keep talking about what you need to do. But what do you want to do?”

That stopped me.

I realize now: I need time.

I’m so wired to be productive. To get back on track, to plan, to accomplish.

But maybe that’s not what’s needed. Maybe it’s not what I need.

What do I want?

What if time isn’t meant to serve productivity, or safety, or even health?

What if it’s here to hold space for evolution?

We’re trained to use time to chase success — build strong bodies, stable careers, meaningful relationships, likes, money, recognition.

But what if that’s not the point?

What if the real invitation is to evolve out of separation?

Maybe that’s too much.

But maybe the purpose of this life is to learn to love. To collaborate. To connect. To live in peace.

I know — that sounds like “crazy talk.”

But every time my life has cracked open — during crisis, loss, or fear — that’s the truth that becomes crystal clear.

That really is what matters.

During COVID, people found extraordinary ways to connect.

When the floods hit Texas camps, strangers stepped in, walls came down, and people helped.

Same with wildfires, disasters — these moments break through the illusion of separateness. They stir something in us.

Then the crisis passes, and we try to go back to “normal.”

Why?

What if we didn’t?

What if we refused to return to the programming of separation, competition, and fear?

What if we chose something else?

I remember a moment — years ago — when I thought I was dying. I had just begun to drop some of my walls.

Someone said to me, “You might be better off dying.”

It sounds harsh. But I think I understood what they meant.

Living — really living — with an open heart, with love instead of fear — isn’t easy in this culture.

But I wanted to live. I still do.

Some days I’m not sure. Some days I fall back into blame and self-protection.

But I’m grateful. Because I keep getting another moment.

Another chance to be present.

To choose love.

My mother was someone, I believe, who chose that — again and again.

She lived it.

And now I get to ask myself:

What do I want, really?

And how can I live from that place?