Tag Archives: aliveness

Community, Connecting, Embracing Unknown

I Want It To Make Sense – It Isn’t Possible

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Here’s the thing for me — I want to understand it.
I want it to make sense. I want to settle the fear.
But that isn’t possible anymore.

Every time something horrific happens, I get driven to the news, to the screen, trying to make sense.
9/11. January 6. George Floyd. The COVID outbreak.
And now ICE and the recent shootings and deaths — the one in Minnesota is another I want to understand — and I can’t.

Then comes the political spin — “all self-defense,” “they deserved it.”
That enrages me on so many levels.

Murder is never a solution — much less something that is good for anyone.

I have talked to enough people who have killed to know this:
none of them believe that was what they wanted.
None of them walk away untouched.

War veterans with PTSD carry this truth in their bodies.
The people sent to “protect” our country often return unable to metabolize what they have seen — or what they were required to do.
That is trauma. Not victory.

So when we say that someone — anyone — deserves to die or be shot, especially on our streets, we are denying what we already know to be true.

Law enforcement.
Citizens.
Undocumented immigrants.

No one needs to be gunned down.
And saying that it’s okay — saying it’s justified — only deepens the violence we claim to be trying to stop.

And still, it seems we need an enemy.
We make them because it is unbearable to say, I was wrong.
To feel the shame of actions born from misinformation or partial truth.
So we defend, protect, blame — and that reflex spreads everywhere.

I watched Wicked: Part II last night.
Did you know the original Wizard of Oz came out just before WWII?
I couldn’t watch that one — the monkeys terrified me.
But Wicked, especially Part II, speaks directly to this moment.

The Wizard — someone who knows they are powerful will use anything and everything — and the look on his face when he realizes what he has destroyed.
That moment landed hard.

But what moved me most was the relationship between Elphaba and Glinda — and of course, the song.
A song about true forgiveness.
About being changed for good.

I so wish we could get that.

Even here, Elphaba leaves because people need someone to call wicked — as if goodness can only be embraced by casting someone out.

Do we really need that?

I know in myself how hard it can be not to want to destroy the perpetrator — or at least the one I believe is the perpetrator.
We can get so far down the road of right and wrong that it feels like there is no way back.

And yet — there is.

The way through may require feeling so deeply, and owning our part so fully, that it feels like sitting in the middle of a wildfire we ourselves set.

Yes — our bodies may burn.
Certainty may collapse.
Stories we tell about ourselves may turn to ash.

But real connection does not burn away.
What is true holds.
Even in the fire.

Our hearts keep beating — not despite connection, but because of it.

Maybe the flames don’t destroy connection at all.
Maybe they reveal it.

And maybe that is the only path to joy.

At some point, we have to risk that.

Can we?

Communication, Community, Connecting, Connection, Life Experiences, Vision, writing

I Don’t Want a Platform—I Want a Campfire

Sometimes I get caught in spinning.

I want to do something—
move toward something purposeful, meaningful, alive.

But I don’t have a job like that.
I don’t work from an office or keep set hours.
I try to stay in service to our work, and sometimes that starts to feel like marketing or overselling, when really I just want to connect.
To share.
To see what might be offered—or received—in relationship.

Instead, I’m in my house in Montana.

I could go downtown and sit in a café and write.
Have a coffee. Maybe chat with people doing their thing.

I could go to the mountain—
ride the chairlift, talk about life and politics, take a few runs, eat curly fries.

I could walk the dogs and exchange small, human moments with people I pass in the woods.

I’d love to share more online.
But honestly, there’s so much noise there.
Ads. Rants. Performance.
So where do heartfelt words belong?
Who is really listening?

I’ve explored platforms—Substack, Mighty Networks, and the ever-growing list of “the next best thing.”
I’m not looking for big.
And I’m not looking for viral.

What I want is simpler—and maybe harder.

Camp Connection wants to become a small, human-scale space.
A place for stories, questions, and unfinished thoughts.
Not a funnel.
Not a brand.

More like a campfire—
where people wander in, sit down for a while, listen, speak when something feels true, and leave a little more connected than when they arrived.

As an Enneagram 5, I know I can get stuck in thinking and refining.
Coming close, then pulling back.
Wanting to share, then needing more quiet first.

Sometimes it’s hard being me.
And—this is me.

If you’d sit down at this campfire, let me know in the comments.
That’s enough to start.

Connecting, Embracing Unknown, Life Experiences

Electric Patience: Where Fire Flies & Dragon Flies Meet

I’m working through something.
It feels big.
Though who knows—
maybe it’s just like opening a pressurized can of tennis balls.
Still. For me, big.

This idea of ground-to-sky lightning came to me.
At first I thought it was just my dyslexic mind showing itself—
because isn’t lightning supposed to go sky to ground?

So I did what we do now.
I asked Google. I asked AI.

What came back surprised me.

Ground-to-sky lightning is real.
Rare.
An upward flash.

A negative strike drops from the cloud,
but before it hits the ground,
something rises.
A positive streamer—
from a mountain, a tower,
the earth itself—
and it surges upward.

Wow – Wonder- Electric

Apprently I didn’t need Google or AI.

Just yesterday I had a really cool meeting
with a kind man
who spoke of the masculine, feminine,
and the elements—earth, fire, water, air.
His secret source and wisdom

Encouraged me and all to listen better, deeper and trust

From earth to air – feet to brian – Earth-Fire-Water-Air

And in me Electric Patience showed up.
In a strange way,
it felt like my own
masculine and feminine meeting.

Now I wait.

Inside me, the lightning is fast—
fireflies, sparks, ideas.
Busy. Bright. Jumping.

The feminine is slower.
Rooted.
More like lava.
And mucus
(yes, I just had a cold moving through my body—
mucus fits).

She’s not in a hurry.
She demands patience.

As the surge comes from the depths—
dragons becoming dragonflies.

Not ground fire.

A storm of fireflies and dragonflies instead.

I’m found a new kind of fuel from fire.

Where before it was combustion – now a dance of fire in sky
I like that.

A gift from Electric Patience.

May there be more.

Community, Connecting

Mindfulness, Reimagined In Cancun

I’ve always carried a bit of judgment around mindfulness.
Whenever people talked about “being mindful,” I heard be calm, peaceful, more zen-like. My old story, that i was too loud, too much, too reactive – so should be more mindful. So I wasn’t as excited about mindfulness as many others.

That changed.

At a recent Dr. Joe Dispenza retreat, I had the privilege of hearing Ellen Langer—the pioneer of mindfulness research and the force behind so much of our modern interest in it. She completely rocked my understanding.

First, she defined mindfulness in the simplest, most liberating way:
mindful = not mindless.
Not checked out. Not running predictable habits. Not assuming.
But questioning, noticing, and being awake in the moment.

Then she introduced another shift that landed deeply for me:
mind–body unity, not mind–body connection.

That one word—unity—changes everything.

The old framing is still dualistic: mind and body, as if one leads and the other follows. Work on the body. Then work on the mind. As if they’re two separate systems talking across a gap.

Mind–body unity aligns with what I’ve believed and taught for years:
consciousness is both energy and matter, always.
We are physical and energetic—thought and heart, sensation and meaning—an integrated field expressing itself through form.

Ellen shared stories that reminded me of the many people in my own life who’ve taught me versions of these lessons. One example stuck hard:

Two people take an IQ test. One scores a 70. One scores a 69.
The 69 is labeled “cognitively impaired.”
The 70 is not. And that one point—one tiny point—shapes entirely different life paths.

That’s the power of language. Labels. Meaning.
How we name things becomes how we live them.

And this brings me back to Me + We.

We aren’t isolated parts trying to become whole.
We are wholeness in every part—each individual an expression of a deeper, unified field.
Me lives inside We.
We lives inside Me.

And here’s the real clincher: we have choice.

Mindfulness—true mindfulness—is not about being calm or zen.
It’s about remembering that in any moment, we get to choose how we engage.

Choice in how we see.
Choice in how we respond.
Choice in how we influence the living matrix we’re part of.

We are not victims of our wiring, our history, or even our wholeness.
Wholeness isn’t a fixed state—it’s a field.
A shimmering, responsive, alive field that changes the moment awareness touches it.

When we meet this moment without judgment—
with heart, curiosity, and presence—
the field reorganizes.
The energy moves.
Possibility opens.

This, to me, is mindfulness:
Not managing yourself into stillness,
but entering life awake enough to influence the field you are part of.
Me affecting We.
We informing Me.
Wholeness alive in every part, reshaped through presence.

That’s the power.
That’s the invitation—
in any moment, with whatever stands in front of you.

Communication, Connecting, Embracing Unknown, Life Experiences, Valuing Differences, Vulnerability

Fear, Love, and the Risk of Reducing Aliveness

I recently came across a research abstract suggesting that Virginia Satir’s experiential family systems approach might be “integrated” with models like Emotion-Focused Therapy. The intent: give her work more structure, theory, and replicability.

It stopped me in my tracks.
Could Satir’s profound body of work—rooted in presence, creativity, and relational aliveness—be reduced to “mere creative techniques”? Sadly, yes.

And it’s not just Satir. Many programs born of humanistic psychology have been distilled into measurable techniques, slotted neatly into systems that can be studied and standardized. Relevant, yes. But at what cost?

When we prize only what can be researched or proven, we lose something vital. Aliveness. Creativity. Connection. We flatten the very field where transformation emerges.

Creation vs. Consumption

What I long for isn’t consumption of another “evidence-based” tool. It’s creation. Taking an idea and living in it—moving, playing, risking. Not applying theory with rigid gestures, but engaging the unpredictable edge where life actually shifts.

Evidence-based living too often traps us in right/wrong, safe/unsafe. The result? A shrinking space for wonder, possibility, and connection.

What Haven Taught Me

As part of The Haven Faculty, I’ve witnessed again and again the raw, alive field where healing happens—not through protocols, but through presence. Haven’s roots were never built on the theoretical. They grew from two physicians—one working with teens, one with elders—who noticed transformation simply by bringing people together.

Of course they developed models to support learning but they also made presence and connection the bottomline.

What drew me to Haven, and originally to Satir, wasn’t a model to be replicated. It was the power of human beings meeting each other without guarantees, without smoothing over, without management.

Haven has always been about leaning into conflict, discomfort, intensity—not to retraumatize, but to discover. To find more of ourselves and more of each other than we thought possible.

The Trouble with Safety

When frameworks and protocols become the defining lens, the focus shifts. The energy becomes about safety, prevention, containment. Safety matters—but transformation doesn’t live in managed safety. It lives in risk, in storm, in staying connected when it would be easier to retreat.

True safety is born in presence, not control. In the messy, unpredictable space of being human together.

The Larger Gift

Yes, trauma walks through our doors. It always has. And we hold it with care. But I refuse to let trauma—or the management of it—define transformation.

Satir’s gift, and Haven’s, is larger: a space that is alive, not managed. A space where fear and love meet, and in that meeting, choice becomes possible.

Communication, Community, Connecting, Life Experiences

From Scroll To Soul

I find myself struggling in this moment. I want to be productive—yet I don’t know what to work on.

Here’s the possible To Do List:

There’s the garden; I could go out and pull up weeds, harvest what’s ready.
I could go for a bike ride—it’s beautiful outside.
I could read. I could write.
I could even reach out to the folks I’ll be leading with later this month to start building our connection.

Indeed, there is much I could do.

And yet, here I sit. Scrolling, then thinking. Scrolling, then thinking.

Recently, in an intuitive session, I was told something that stuck with me:
Maybe I don’t need to be “creating opportunities.” Maybe I need to let them evolve. In my business, when I push to “make it happen,” I may be missing what’s already right in front of me.

That message echoed during our Find Your Mojo in Montana weekend. On the final morning, we went out to the pasture together. Each woman was asked to connect with a horse and bring them back to the arena.

Of course, in my mind, the “real” work would happen once we were back in the arena. So I charged ahead, intent on finding the herd.

But Bobbi, who owns and lives on the ranch, reminded us to slow down.
Not to beeline to a horse. Not to treat them like a task to complete. Horses sense us long before we reach them, and it matters how we enter their world. To notice. To listen. To respect the herd before engaging.

That moment stays with me.

So often, purpose on a given day looks like a to-do list:

  • Go to the store.
  • Walk the dogs.
  • Write the blog post.

The focus is on getting it done. Which means I miss the trees swaying overhead, the sound of paws on leaves, or the spark of an unexpected idea.

What if I didn’t narrow in on just the task or the outcome?
What if I stayed present in the unfolding of the moment—curious about what else might want to emerge?

Writing is much the same for me. It takes time to settle. I’ll meander—scrolling Facebook, reading a few pages of a book, playing music, even bouncing on the trampoline. Back and forth I go—writing a bit, wandering away, then circling back.

And then, at some point, something shifts. I drop into a current. The words begin to flow. My focus narrows, not in a forced way, but like sliding into a slipstream.

I’ve learned to appreciate both—the wandering off-road and the ease of finally being carried by the current.

Maybe that’s the real invitation:
To trust the meandering.
To let go of forcing productivity.
And to remember that sometimes the most important thing is already happening—if I just stay present enough to notice.

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!

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.