think less, feel more. i’ve been barking this mantra a lot, of late, to my students and clients as we grind through our 6am lung bursting, quad firing, will testing anaerobic intervals. “get out of your brain, get into your heart.” easy yes? one...
there i was, minding my own nosy business, as i clandestinely stalked the pinterest boards of all the fabulous, more interesting and creative than me, people in my life; pining for the pretty, and re-pinning from a place where i hoped i’d appear just as glossy...
a mattress made of sand, yielding afternoon naps so satisfying, decades later you’ll still crave them like you pine for heat on a frosty, january morning. lapping waves become truth serum dripping into your brain, coaxing out secrets, confessions, and desires...
do you manifest? it’s kind of the rage these days. sort of like green juices and overalls {yes, they’re back.} most of the people whom i adore, copycat, internet stalk, and who would downright obtain a restraining order against me if they were privy to my...
so remember this? my foray into mindfulness and quest for a relaxed forehead brow to rival even the most syringed of orange county housewives? yeah. well, like every other attempt at meditation it seems i have created more wrinkles, stress and crumbled drywall; from...
forty? thirty-seven? are they really that different? yesterday was my take on the daniel day lewis starring, paul thomas anderson directed film, “there will be blood.” except in my version the more apt title was: “there will be butter.” having...
