This Sacred Day :: Simple Ways to Celebrate It


I’m no astrology buff at all; however, I do live by the moon and the seasonal wheel of the year.

Today marks quite a sacred day with the alignment of a few lunar/seasonal touches.


Spring Equinox (or Fall Equinox in the Southern Hemisphere)

Super New Moon

Solar Eclipse


I thought I’d share a very simple run down of these happenings today and a few ideas on how to whip up a bit of your own sacredness alongside of this universal magic.


The Spring Equinox is commonly known as the first day of Spring. It is also known as the Vernal (of Spring) Equinox (equal night), a day of balance when night and day are of equal length. It is a time of rebirth, fertility, new beginnings. It is the season when the light returns, welcoming longer and longer days until they peak at the Summer Solstice.

The New Moon is when the moon passes between the Earth and the Sun. It is also well known as a new beginning we so beautifully welcome approx. every 29 1/2 days.

A Supermoon occurs during a Full or New Moon at the same time the moon is closest to the earth in its orbit. This New moon happens to be a Supermoon.

A Total Solar Eclipse happens during a New Moon when the earth, sun and moon align just so and the moon fully obstructs the sun.


As you can see, today, March 20th, 2015 is certainly inviting us to celebrate this sacred day alongside her…here are a few ways to do just that.

Balance an egg. An egg is a most beautiful sign of fertility, and because of the earth’s the alignment on this day you can balance an egg on the bottom end during the hour of the equinox. Give it a try.

Have a fire. Fires are simple and primal ways to celebrate the Sacred days of the wheel of the year, as well as each New and Full moon phase.

Let go. As we close out the Winter and welcome in the Spring it is time to release what keeps you in the dark. Create space to ponder and declare what you’d like to let go of. Write it out and burn it in a fire or light it aflame.

Bury your intentions. New Moon’s are new beginnings. Spring is a new beginning. Write your intentions down and bury them in the earth to grow alongside your garden. No garden? Simply plant them in the earth to transform/grow as we move through Spring.

Cut and paste a dreamboard. One of my readers recently left a couple comments with links to some beautiful dreamboards she’s been creating at each Full and New moon. I don’t think anyone is a stranger to the idea of vision boards these days and though these seem similar in appearance I also sense a very feminine, intuitive process supported by the very lunar rhythms women have within. Cut and paste all that calls to you until you’ve created a beautiful page of intentions, attractions and beauty to welcome in this seasonal turn.


Plant some flowers, wash your sheets, wear a flowing skirt, open your windows, make strawberry jam, eat the first dandelions and violets, hydrate yourself fully, take a slow long walk, gift someone a simple Spring surprise, plant seeds indoors, wear flowers in your hair…however you sprinkle in some sacredness into this very auspicious day make it a beauty-full one.

Oodles of Spring excitement,


falan sig



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The truth about (my) marriage


One of my sweet readers shared once that she’d love it if I talked more about my relationship….”I would love to hear more about your relationships. I am inspired by your realistic views on love with a partner and would like to learn more about how you’ve allowed that love to flow.”

I have talked about marriage/love here quite a few of times in this space, here, herehere, here, here and here.

I believe marriage/love relationships should be talked about more. They are, by far, what I have found to be the most challenging relationship we will ever face.

With your lover, love is an absolute choice. You choose over and over and over and over again to keep going, to fight for – not against, to make it through hell and high water, to stab and jab and destroy each others hearts, only to mend and love and heal each others hearts again and again.

I absolutely believe destiny and fate plays a strong role in love, but choice is always there too.

Marriage is a bloody battle where the victory is making it, getting by, surviving and then falling hard in love again, thriving and reaching new territories where things become so good you think you have it all figured out.

And then, boom, you’re at it again, fumbling for your sword because your stubborn ass refuses to surrender and simply support and embrace the others side without fighting for yours.

And then, sometimes, after years, you learn to surrender, to simply lay down your weapon and walk over the boundary to their side, to stand in their corner, fight on their team, show up as the best friend you are.

When Josh and I met, we were young and full of passion, opinion and stubbornness.

We married six months after we met, but if I recall correctly it wasn’t even a month before our first fight.

Just a few months into our relationship I recall chasing him (in my car) down a highway, while he ran from me on foot. Later, he would repeat this escape, but I would simply drive off and leave him to walk home. Once that walk was well over ten miles – maybe 15. I quit chasing and eventually he quit doing this.

So many people speak of a honeymoon phase of a relationship. I say, “what the hell is that?”

Almost fourteen years later we are still full of passion, opinion and stubbornness. We’ve just learned to navigate it much better.

When we were young we’d go from a playful laugh in the rain to a dagger in the heart battle, as we learned to understand who we were and what we were together.

Over the years we have simmered down tremendously. What used to be fights really often – so often they almost felt like the same one with little breaks in between, have now become rare fights that we get over really fast.

Oftentimes what would now become a fight instead becomes us kissing passionately and cursing playfully in a whisper to each other.

Over the years I have gone from wanting to run him over with a truck to simply wanting to hit him with one. I don’t know what visual of inflicting pain he has for me, but I am confident it has lessened in its goriness over the years too.

Over the years, looking back, I can witness phases…the beginning – not a honeymoon for us; rather a navigation of our beginning love, the beginning of parenthood and finding our way as a family, then the appearance of pain, resentment and learning real forgiveness, then the phase we are in now; just living life as a team with a tremendous amount of story shared between us.

A team of two united in the deepest love I’ve ever know between two people.


“When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships. We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity – in freedom, in the sense that the dancers are free, barely touching as they pass, but partners in the same pattern.

The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what was in nostalgia, nor forward to what it might be in dread or anticipation, but living in the present relationship and accepting it as it is now. Relationships must be like islands, one must accept them for what they are here and now, within their limits – islands, surrounded and interrupted by the sea, and continually visited and abandoned by the tides.”  -Anne Morrow Lindbergh

In marriage, there is a shit-ton of compromise. There is no way around that. Having met, loved and married young and then choosing to take on parenthood soon after, has meant we never really had time to discover ourselves before learning ourselves alongside each other.

Having someone alongside that discovery makes it hard, of course, but also allows you to discover parts of yourself that would never be revealed without that love, that fight, that support, that story, that journey.

Marriage, for us, means sharing our home and lives with three children, a dog, two cats and chickens. That is a lot of needs to be met, a lot of different moods and phases and struggles and passions and such. No decision is made solely. Nothing is done with only you in mind. This is what I meant when I made a comment a few posts back about how easy it must be for those who live without partners or children.

I don’t know that life because my life is full of people and love and responsibility and dreams and a deep desire to meet the needs of us all.

I don’t know that life because it isn’t a story I want, nor the story I was meant to have.

I don’t know that life because motherhood and marriage are the badges I wear the proudest, the badges I fight harder for than anything ever in my life.

I think this discovery side by side has both helped us and hurt us.

When you share years and lives with another you can’t help but to go through a lot.

We have had two miscarriages. One taking place on our bed, while the other two kids read and played quietly in the other room. The second taking place on our bed, with a toddler sleeping next to us. He has caught our child on our bedroom floor, when the homebirth doctor wasn’t called soon enough. He has encapsulated my placenta and fed me dozens of the pills with endless cups of tea to me in postpartum days. He has taken care of me when I was sick last year and I have nursed and caretaked him through temporary blindness, and through an extended poison ivy reaction so severe it appeared he gained 100 lbs overnight.

We have made it through years of choosing values over easy, living our lives many times out of the bounds of what is considered normal.

We have never had a night alone together in nearly 13 years.

Over the years we have become less opinion and more heart. Less stubbornness and more forgiveness.


“Love in its fullest form is a series of deaths and rebirths. We let go of one phase, one aspect of love, and enter another. Passion dies and is brought back. Pain is chased away and surfaces another time. To love means to embrace and at the same time to withstand many endings, and many beginnings – all in the same relationship.”

All of marriage is birth and death over and over again.

Sex is often the same too. Sex is highly influenced by SO many things. Past stories, insecurities and uncertainties, fertility, infertility, passion, lack of passion, parenthood, motherhood, fatherhood, space and time, willingness, bitterness, resentments, body image, pain, pleasure.

It walks the line of every human emotion and fantasy.

It is the most vulnerable act of love and an act that is truly spiritual and sacred when made in love. Making love. A true sacred act.

In marriage you are always entering new incarnations.

Marriage is two people, coming together with a whole lot of baggage from childhood, and/or adulthood, falling hard in love and trying to find their rhythm alongside of each other, losing hard in like but never love, all without losing ourselves; yet, losing yourself is all that you can do to reach the depths of togetherness that love is.

You WILL lost parts of yourself. You will with marriage (and with motherhood). It’s not possible to remain the same when this depth of love enters your life.

BUT you will gain so much. I sincerely believe marriage (and motherhood) to be a spiritual path. You finding your way, with the influence of others at every step is overwhelming, awakening and sacred.

When you can stand bare naked before another human being and know he sees you far more beautiful than you’ve ever seen yourself, when you can bleed on his hands, when you can shed tears that could drown him, when you can reveal the ugliest, darkest, most painful parts of yourself and he still wakes to another day, in bed beside you, with arms open wide and a hug to soothe your pain you know you have love.

You have love.

This thing, this evasive yet overwhelming thing, called love is gold. It is magic.

If you find someone who you can give yourself to in this way and receive them in this way, this is love.

Love is not a happily every after.

Love is the words my husband wrote to me today:

“People who never give up get to hold hands together and look at each other with all the understanding in the world.”

This is the happily ever after. The never giving up when you have this love.

All this being said, I know all marriages aren’t meant to last.  Who is to say that a soul-contract isn’t limited. We never know. I say this for my marriage and for those who see themselves in my words.

I say all this without ever facing infidelity, a death of a parent, a death of a child, a debilitating disease, cancer, or anything else that would put our life, our being, our heart at the greatest of tests.

I say all this from experience of a love that is as real as love can be when we are walking in this world of two legged humans.

I say all this as a small taste of all I think and feel about love and marriage. It’s so much more than words could convey in the space of a half dozen blog posts.

So, in response to the inspiration to write this post…How have I let that love flow?

I show up but also give myself permission to hide. I fight and I surrender. I stand strong and I fall weak. I keep going. I don’t give up, I don’t throw in the towel, I don’t call it quits. I wait for that birth that I know, after years of experience, is inevitably going to return. I step into that place that can witness his overwhelming love for me, so that I may find my love for him. I trust and I lose faith. I practice over and over an acceptance of this messy life. I stand in how good we have it and know that letting the love flow only makes it better.

I also remember that nearly every time I don’t feel love is because I have stopped the flow in my own perceived unworthiness or in an attempt to close off from it as protection.

How do I let love flow? I ultimately choose it, simply because I know it is there and that I’ll feel it once I choose it.

{{ thank you, sweet reader, for inspiring me to share these words. }}

With love,

falan sig




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Shrinking Shame :: Luna Letter Invite :: Moon Cycle Calendar Giveaway :: Beet Chocolate Cake Recipe ::

This is quite the unusual blog post, covering bits of a lot of ground.

This is what I have for you after my few fallow weeks. : )


Before Winter closed her gateway, I truly felt I needed to be fully present with her. To tend to personal yearnings of my own. In this way, I knew that with Spring’s arrival I would feel like the powered colored violets seeking the sunshine again.

The weather seemed to align with my intentions as she brought snow and much downtime and canceled plans.

I spent these past few weeks doing all I planned and more.

I spent a lot of time tending our hearth, decluttering dozens of bags of stuff and organizing.

nesting shelves

I spent a lot of time in the kitchen making recipes. Trying out and tweaking oodles of clipped and written ones I had saved for far too long.

I spent a lot of time feeling rather lazy and teetered between great inspiration and quiet dullness.

All of this brought me so much creative and nourishing fulfillment.


This time also brought up something else for me.

It came as I brushed my teeth and coconut oiled my face for bed. It was something that had been stepping lightly around the perimeter of my heart for quite a long time and then, whoosh, it landed strong in the softest spot that night. I hurried to my journal and trusted the words that came.

I was done with shame.

It’s not a snap-of-the-fingers-resolution guaranteed to dissolve it away (darn!), but a sincere and real commitment to begin the work of letting any clouds that cast over my worth fade.

Just days later came a quivering lip confession that was waiting to be spoken so it could shift.

I find the act of being a woman simply stunning when we follow the truth of ourselves. When we take what is inside of us and trust it with such sincerity, allowing it to lead us around the corner of the spiral and cyclical passage that we all move through.



Luna Letters

Pregnant with this idea for months I am birthing them today.

The first one will be mailed out on the new moon Solstice. March 20th.

I hope you’ll join me. Click here to learn more.


chocolate cake

Beet Chocolate Cake Recipe

Recipes are not something I have ever shared here. But I spent so much recent time creating in the kitchen it feels fitting to share one with you.

I made this cake this week for no other reason than the sun was shining, which felt well worth celebrating.

This is not an uber healthy recipe and, really, my days of uber healthy have faded into a past version of me.

Healthy has become a bit more of something that encompasses joy too. And being that this cake has beets and chocolate in it – well, that is joy. And a wee bit healthy too.

The kids and I enjoyed this in the late afternoon sunshine.

It would make a delightful cake for gathering with your lady friends.

*Obviously organic ingredients, raw cacao powder and backyard chicken eggs are the way to go, but whatever you use LOVE is the key ingredient.*

1 Cup Pureed Beets 
1 Cup Applesauce
1 Cup Sugar
2 Eggs

1 1/2 Cup Unbleached Flour
1/2 Cup Cocoa Powder
2 teaspoons Baking Soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon


Begin with love.

Mix the wet ingredients with the sugar.

Mix the dry ingredients.

Mix the wet with the dry.

Add more love.

Pour into two greased pie pans and bake at 350 degrees for about 20 – 25 minutes, or until toothpick comes out clean.

While the cake cools make the icing ::

1/2 Cup room temperature butter
4 Cups Confectioners Sugar
6 Tablespoons Milk
1 Teaspoon vanilla
3 Tablespoons cocoa powder

Mix thoroughly.

Cool cake completely before smearing the icing between, and on top of, the two layers.

Adorn with coconut and dried rose petals. Or whatever you fancy.

Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy.


moon calendarMoon Cycle Calendar Giveaway

A lovely Australian woman, Shekhinah Morgan over at Moon Diary, recently sent me a couple of her wise creations.

A delightful Moon Diary planner and a Moon Cycle Calendar.

I simply believe all lunar tools to be so so wonderful and helpful in fostering our connection with the moon.

Of course, simply standing in her presence and watching her each night is absolutely enough (and most important), but these beautiful indoor tools certainly help keep us connected in our busy lives.

She sent me a second Moon Cycle Calendar (as pictured above) and I’d love to send it to one of you.

It’s a beautiful chart that will encourage you to stay present with the lunar rhythms, as well as to chart your menstrual cycle alongside the moon.

Please leave any ole comment below and consider yourself in the drawing. I’ll pull a name next week and contact you if it’s you : )

UPDATE: Thank you all for entering. The winner was chosen (Annalisa)! Wish I could send you all one. xx


Okay, that was a LOT.

If you made it to the bottom I consider you a true friend and I would certainly have you over to eat cake and talk lunar rhythms. Thank you for being here.


falan sig



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going fallow


The passing Imbolc, over a week ago, recognized our midway point between Winter and Spring.

The lack of cut off denims and sun-kissed thighs and family hikes will be coming to a close before we know it.

Restlessness naturally comes around as we reach this point in the seasonal wheel.

I’ve been thinking lately, when reflecting on my recent words and the discomfort of feeling so exposed in who I am, that I need a recharge.

I, all the sudden, understood that with my Winter months leading the LafanLuna Ladies Circle, I hadn’t taken the critical withdrawal from the online world that I usually do at this time. I’ve also realized that the act of descending is much harder when you are leading.

It seems Winter, the very month that calls us into our own hibernation, can quickly become a masculine, task-oriented time in order to soothe and glaze over the inner callings of ourselves.

I am shutting down for the next nearly two weeks (or so) to both recharge and to finish out the last of the Winter weeks internal work of clarifying and bringing forth what’s next in my life.

I’ll be tending to my Luna Letters heart-stormed idea, so that I’ll be ready to mail the first one with the Spring Equinox new moon, making space to welcome in my next circle idea, and recalibrating myself to the clarity of this growing tribe of women and my ever certain commitment to family first.

I’ll be chopping root veggies and drinking oodles of hot cocoa to lovingly embrace the remainder of this seasons nourishment (because gosh am I ready for Spring greens).

I’ll be reading my half dozen stack of books…including the profound words of Nayyirah Waheed, inspiring erotica and the always resonating words of Tami Lynn Kent.

I’ll be decluttering, cleaning and ridding the sweet little simplicity heart of mine away.

I’ll be creating up some homeschool goodness with the kids.

I’ll be tending to my body, as it feels rather deprived in the less active days of Winter. Hello stretching, coconut oil, getting dressed each morning (what a brilliant idea!), painting my toenails red, braids in my hair, sticking my feet in the clay and imagining it’s the soft ocean sand, making love, meandering the mini trails of my backyard, making kitchen magic and nourishing the family with goodness and indulgences.

I’ll be journaling and making space to process the very space I’m offering myself.

I’ll be breaking from the universal sized internet world, remembering that email is never a priority and that true nourishment comes when we are honest with ourselves about what is needed and then give it to ourselves.

Mostly, I’ll be tending to my root. Going fallow to restore my own fertility.

I encourage you to carve out space (even a day) during these last weeks of Winter to fill your well.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading.

With love,

falan sig



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Embarrassing thoughts, stories and layers of my root.


Sometimes I feel rather embarrassed to admit I fantasize about how nice it’d be if life was tidy.

Sometimes I feel very embarrassed to admit that sometimes I ponder how simple the lives of singles must be. The lives of those without partners and/or children.

How uncluttered and uncomplicated and tidy it must be. How easy it must be to meet your own needs. How easy it must be to meet your dreams.

But I know this is all bullshit. Just a story I tell myself and a story I would never want.

The truth is we all have what we have because it is what we called in, what we asked for in some way, what we need, what we want, what we need to live and breathe and move through.

The truth is my path is everything I want.

The truth is my path is my path, and no path remains tidy.

It was one year ago, this week, that I fell ill and spent three months grieving identified and unidentified grief, and opening my heart to the newest of depths.

Playfulness, a familiar player in how I express myself, has become a magician who keeps appearing and then disappearing as I step into what feels like a new me in so many ways.

This past weekend a few situations (all the same really, just repeats) came about, and I reacted (fleetingly, thankfully) in a way that I haven’t in a long time. I responded like the old, closed off, controlling gal in me would.

I remembered with such freshness how that used to be me and how far I had come.

I came across the words “limited expression” recently and I keep rolling them around in my mind like marbles, wondering how to fully journey into the part of me that is asking to express myself more, in very new territory.

The other night, as the house slept, I shuffled my tarot cards and mulled over the lingering hurt of a long fed pain and out fell judgment before I had a chance to choose.

Rebirth. Forgiveness. Awakening.

I know I am closing the door of a very old story, but for some reason my foot is still wedged there, holding it open because I am comforted in some fucked up way (why are we so hard on ourselves?) by the old story…and even though what lives beyond that door is more beautiful and liberating than anything I’ve lived, it isn’t familiar.

Or perhaps it is familiar. Just to the parts of me that know only truth.

But so many of us live our lives through lies and habits and familiarities and comforts.

I keep sitting with the stories I tell myself. About how things are.

And for some reason I keep noticing that they are just stories. Stories. Not truth. Not non-fiction in any sense but the sense of my heart. They are my stories even if the characters in each story would write it a completely different way.

My intact place would write it differently too.

The full moon brought me my next step. Telling the stories I hold in my womb. Asking for guidance in the new stories of myself.

But, but, but…no matter how much I want to, am called to, it never feels the time has come to fully work in the next layer of my root.

It asks of a courage I haven’t yet met.

This has been my uphill climb for a long time now, and for some reason I know I am nearing the top ready to trek the edgiest parts.

Ready to take my foot from the door and move into the next room.

Sincere warmth,

falan sig



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Grief, love and apples.


This quote has been ruminating inside of me for weeks now.

It doesn’t matter how content, how happy, how blissful and how silly I can feel, I can always step inside grief.

A grief that is brief and fleeting. A grief that comes from the place inside of me that knows we don’t survive nor live life without it.

For me grief feels like a room I walk into occasionally, slowly and mindfully. A quiet room, where I remove my robe and feel the ache and beauty on my bare chest that grief is.

Where I feel the love that feeds the grief.

I grieve in the future for the past and for the today I live now.

Time isn’t real, and it is borrowed and quick and slow and transient.

Sometimes I find myself in this room when I catch a glimpse of her small hand and know its bigness is coming, or when I see the coming-of-age in him, or when I watch the shape of her face change.

Sometimes I find myself in this room when see the passage of time since I found love in him, and then them, and then finally myself.

Sometimes I find myself in this room when I look ahead and see the days when the wrinkles around, and the story within, our eyes are deeper than the color.

I carry grief because I love. Because the fear that stood guard of my love has melted and melted and melted, and revealed to me that my fear would not protect me from the grief that comes with love.

That love is my risk.

That love is the apples I have eaten.



falan sig



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I want to tell you


I have no idea where this post will go.

I feel a lot on my mind right now.

I wish to say so many things and wonder why one topic can’t summarize the oceans of thoughts that tell me to write about them.


I want to tell you that a new year is not a starting place of resolutions, summaries or plans of the 8,765 hours that fill our precious year. That you can start new or start over in any moment, in any hour, in any day. That you can begin a year with nothing but an empty basket and your dearest belongings inside.

I want to tell you about the village I don’t have. This one scares me and is a blog post waiting to happen. These words will come soon.


I want to tell you that I feel lighter than I have in a long time.

I want to tell you that this year I haven’t laughed as much as I’m known to laugh. This year was rich in the dark work of spirit. The laughter is returning. I’m so glad. I’ve missed it.


I want to tell you I feel so ready for this year because I have so few expectations. I feel grounded in the fact that we never have any fucking idea of certainty. We choose and we create and we live, and we are left with a life that looks surprisingly like everything we asked for; yet, that shapes us with the curveballs and edges that only spirit in body can bring.

I want to tell you that the internet turns me off a lot sometimes. Though, I love and appreciate it for the tool that it is, it often feels like a distraction of the deepness life calls us to live. This coupled with the fact that it facilitates a different and beautiful kind of connection.


I want to tell you that I always intend to be honest and vulnerable here. To show you how human I really am. To bravely tell my stories. This year, I hope I have the courage to tell the ones waiting to be told.

I want to tell you that I miss snail mail, I think we need more of it, and that I’ve been harboring inspiration to share letters with you. Stay tuned and I’ll tell you more about that real soon.


I want to tell you that I sincerely believe that to love and to be loved in return is richest human experience. I think I’ve told you this before. Maybe a few times. I want to tell you again.

I want to tell you that rage lives in me and I think it lives in all women. That only some of us let it out.

I want to tell you that guilt is such a wasted emotion. That I don’t want to do guilt anymore. That I do it too often.

I want to tell you that you’ll never figure anything out until after you’ve lived it, that you know all you need to know, that you are exactly where you’re meant to be.

I want to tell you thank you for being here. Always, thank you.

With love,

falan sig


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What really matters?

Deep sensitive
I circle the moon with ease
Warm womb rising truths
I slide down the crescent
and hit the edge
I dangle
Waiting wanting wondering
I stand
and step
as she and I wane.


This was my Thursday.

Friday, we woke for early morning love making.

We finished just as the sun rose and decided quietly, alone, and then together, that we should just stay up and began our day.

Quiet beginnings before the kids awoke.

A rarity.

We peeked at the pink sky, and then shared hot chocolate in bed while watching Love Actually.


Sometimes I feel the worst parts of myself rise to the surface, begging for air, for life, for the center of attention.

I feel harried, irritated, bitter at “stuff”. Literally, stuff. Things, material stuff.

I fantasize about single suitcases and getting lost in the whispers of wanderlust.

I think of more love making and less worrying.

More laughter and less internet.

More playfulness and less planning.

More adventure and less maintaining.

More and more and more love, because nothing matters more than the love.


After the Friday beginnings of love making-hot chocolate-movie watching, I floated on the waters of awareness, presence, playfulness and joy.

I spent the day in alignment with the truth of what matters to me.

I let everything else wait.

Some days I fall asleep with the lingering remains of falling short.

It’s like being in a hot air balloon, hovering over what matters, but never looking over the edge of the basket and taking it in.

I don’t like these days.

I fully know and understand that as women (humans) we ebb and flow, rise and fall, wax and wane.

Yet, I scheme and wonder and plan and seek ways that I can always wax in the awareness, presence, playfulness and joy.

I’m captivated by what matters to me.

I wonder why I can’t stay in that place (even when I know why).

I wonder how even though I protect my life and my space, and this precious time I have to live this life in the vibration of what matters to me, I always wander off.


But I always come back too.


Friday evening, following the day of all that mattered to me, we went in to town to run a couple errands.

At a stoplight, as I neared a turn, we were nearly hit by an oncoming car, as they swerved to miss the person who turned in front of them.

In the brief seconds between everything is fine and relaxed and normal and we are about to (possibly) die, I had time to think of so much.

These are the moments why I live for what matters.


As we close out 2014 and welcome in 2015, really know what matters to you.

Put what matters in your basket.

Promise yourself that 2015 will be abundant in what matters and scarce in what doesn’t.

That you’ll understand life is full of too much mysteriousness to coast in the lane of “only what matters”, but that you’ll aim to stay in that lane as much as you can.


falan sig



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The (Empty) Basket Year


With the year coming to a close and the new year fresh on our heels, it’s begun.

The guiding books are coming out, the new planners, the word of the year tools, the recycled new years resolutions (“I’m gonna’ do it this year dammit!”)…

All the hype that we can be more, do more, accomplish more vibrates at a whole new level when December shows up.

I’m done with it all.

Well, I haven’t set a new years resolution since I was 20.

I have done the reflection and planning thing quite well the last few years, and early this year I chose my first word of the year.

Yet, you see, I’m a simple girl.

Really simple.

So much so, it was just a handful of years ago that everything my family owned fit in a 5×5 foot storage shed.

So much so, we recently bought a 640 square foot home. For five people.

Stuff disappears from our house as if a burgler stuffs himself in the empty space and sneaks out at night to gather.

“I don’t know what happened to that, darling…” “You gave it to Goodwill, didn’t you Mom?”

This simplicity floods over the container of tangible things into my view of life and time too.

I’m hung up (in what I hope is a good way) on making this life matter. On not losing focus of the primal and simple things that matter in the end.

A week or so ago, I choked on my tears as I tried to express the pain that I have a dollop over six years left ’til my son will be an adult.

That hurts so much.

But it offers power too.

Imagine, for one minute that it’s 100 years from now. You and everyone you love in this moment is gone. The world still exists (and maybe you do in a different incarnation), but you are gone in the form you now live.

Did you live the life you wanted?

That’s all you need to think about for 2015.

Eff new years resolutions, guiding words, or pages and pages of stuff to accomplish.

What matters to YOU? (if those things above matter to you, then they are welcome ;))

You see, time doesn’t really exist, but we need time to guide our lives.

As you age, and especially when you have children who seem to reshape overnight during dreams, life becomes a great longing to not wait, to live now.

Now is the time.

The time to quit with the more and pursue what matters.

Here’s a New Year suggestion for you and me.

The empty basket. (inspired by “The Empty Container” by Leo Babauta)

Get a little basket. A wee tiny one. Or a little medicine pouch, an itty bitty treasure box, a matchbox, a little jar…

Then, sit with your life. Really look at it.

Think of all the things you want to do. All the things that you already do.

Connection with loved ones. People. Family. Husband. Children. Parents.

Work and business goals. Travel. Financial goals.

Health. Home. Healing.

Write them down.

Fill a page or pages or a whole darn notebook of all the things you want to do. Big stuff, little stuff, medium stuff. Get specific.

Now, take a break. Watch a movie that ignites a truth in you. Take a walk. Snuggle a loved one.

Then come back and look at your list.

Circle all the things that are important to you. Truly important.

Not important because you think they should be. Not important because they are important to someone else.

Truly important because there is a calling in you that pulls you there.

Because when you leap 100 years from now you want those clichéd, and very real, blood, sweat and tears to have come from what truly matters to you.

Honor what season of your life you are in, knowing that if you live beyond this season you can choose different things. But if you don’t live beyond this season then you still lived fully.

Then choose five. Just five.

If you are the hard core type, choose three.

That is your 2015. Put them in your basket.

That is what comes first. Every thing else second.


falan sig



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Why Journal? Five reasons.


Pen and paper have always been alluring to me.

I spent my childhood funds on journals, notebooks, pens and the like.

My Dad and I would spend chunks of time roaming the aisles of office supply stores.

I always had a diary or journal of sorts.

I was always writing on something.

My Mom used to joke about the amount of trees I ate up with ink.

I am still the same.

I’ve always had a place to write the workings of my heart and mind on paper.

I’ve always made lists, logged tidbits and tracked my life with pen and paper.

I prefer this over any electronic, with no competition to ever be found.

It was just this year I decided to call myself a writer.

But writer was nothing I ever longed to be.

I write. I love to write.

I met my husband in a creative writing class.

If I could handwrite these blog posts to you, I’d adore it.

Not a day of my life passes that a pen doesn’t make home in my hand.

But it wasn’t until this year, when my journaling practice became so much more, that I realized the true importance of writing.

Here are five reasons (there are many more) writing in a journal can be important to us all.

Permission. To be all of you and as much of you as you are in any given moment. When others around you can’t hold space for what you’re going through, it gives you permission to hold space for yourself.

Heart access. The hand is led from the heart. When we write, long enough, we access our truth. Our intuition. Our inner knowing. Our heart space.

Release. Brain dump, heart dump. Letting go. It distributes the weight of life, so it no longer sits merely on your shoulders.

Housekeeping. Life can get crazy messy. Journaling lets you clean up the mess a bit. To find clarity and calm in the chaos.

Depth. There’s a depth in us all that we don’t reach in the busyness of life. That we can’t reach when we don’t sit with ourselves long enough to share what’s going on within. Journaling creates room to go deeper.

There are no rules. Just begin. Simply show up. Write what’s on your mind. Write until you are empty.

All answers are within us. Writing gives you new ears. Simply start.

With tremendous love,

falan sig




Feel like you belong here? Sign up for free weekly-ish lovins' in your inbox. I'll also send you a link to a private page, just for my readers, that includes heart-full little pdf's, such as Beside the Bed: Three tools to set yourself free, without leaving your bed. (I'll keep your email super safe - promise!)
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