Hi friends – 

It’s been a minute. Over three months full of minutes actually, since I last wrote. 

For the last seven weeks, Jeremy and I have been road tripping around seeing (and hugging, laughing, crying and generally enjoying three dimensional, offline reality with) friends and family for the first time since  B.C. (Before Covid) times. 

Our six year old niece, who only knows her Uncle Jeremy and Aunt Nessy as mythical beings who land every now and then in her New York home for magical bursts of fun, as a “traveling family.” As someone who loves novelty, variety and adventure and identifies more as a resident of this planet, more than any particular address on it, I like this identity.

But I also love (and miss) being where my mail lands. I miss being where I have a closet full of clothes and cabinets full of dishes and walls full of art I’ve chosen and love. I long to be back in a place we have roots, literally in our yard with a year of actively creating and tending quarantine gardens and metaphorically all over the Bay Area after twenty years building chosen family, community and context. 

Today, for the first time since this traveling family of ours left California at the beginning of July, we will point our little car Westward, rather than East, and begin our journey back home. 

Or one home anyway. 

Because the truth is, this journey has brought back many pieces of home I’ve felt far from over the last disorienting year and half or so. 

Over the last seven weeks I’ve felt home return to me over and over again… 

…while holding my niece close, while she giggles in my face

…while walking with my nephew in an Indiana thunderstorm while he shares how complex it is to figure out who you are in this world 

….while laughing until my face hurts with my college friends who still live nearby our Massachusetts undergrad campus 

…while sitting around a piano that my uncle is playing, with many members of my extended family singing songs I’ve been harmonizing with since childhood 

…while sitting in my niece’s bunk bed/makeshift office for the day, opening up my laptop and seeing a client’s face who I’ve worked with for years 

…while crying and dancing and crying some more with my in-laws and friends when we were finally able to gather together to grieve and celebrate the life of my brother-in-law Jim who died earlier this year

…while sitting in our small car with my sweetie who even after driving for hours and hours and hours, and being together for two decades, still makes up little songs about me under his breath. 

…while I wake up in yet another new place and take a breath, long, slow, deep and intentional and feel my own body start to stretch and move and find her rhythm once more. 

All of these places, and moments outside of place, feel like home – even when the context and circumstances are swirling around in ways that leave me unsure of place or time. 

One of my life mottos, seen originally on a bumper sticker, is “If you lived in your body, you’d be home by now.” Perhaps, while I’m here, and maybe even, beyond, there’s always a chance to feel at home. 

What is connecting you to home these days I wonder?

Loving you,

Vanessa

Hi friends —

My last newsletter, sent around the Equinox, ended with:

“There are more mysteries to uncover, pain to be with and wounds to attend to individually and collectively…”

More mysteries and pain manifested in my own life a few days after sending the newsletter, with a gallbladder attack that took me to the hospital. This was the third time this had happened in two years; the latest opportunity to more deeply hear what my body is communicating. 

Because of the profound insights and dramatic relationship pattern shifts after the adventure of the first, and second, episodes, I felt hopeful that the stones would have dissolved along with the outdated beliefs that I sensed they represented. But alas, the body has it’s own wisdom – one that can not be forced to follow the desires of our heart and mind. 

*(As you may recall from earlier newsletter on the matter “The Gall of it All” https://souloriented.com/2019/02/04/the-gall-of-it-all/)

In listening this time around, I find myself noticing the following range:

• Gratitude – That the stone passed without needing emergency surgery, giving me time to try alternative treatments and/or properly prepare my body to welcome the surgery if needed…. For my husband and all the many people who supported me through the worst of the pain and continue to support my healing efforts which are sometimes laborsome.

• Shame – My well intentioned, but misguided, inner-shamer got busy with all sorts of angles attempting to find a narrative in which this was proof of my inadequacy. 

If I was “healthy” this wouldn’t have happened.. 

I should have made more changes after the first time…

What kind of a healer are you if you can’t heal yourself?…

Gallstones, as common as they are, still carried a stigma for me. 

Noting this limiting stigmatic belief, I can stay compassionate and curious about these thoughts rather than believing them….most of the time. 

• Interconnectedness/Awe – At the hospital my first nurse was named Frances (my paternal grandmother’s name), my second nurse was named Vanessa and my attending physician was Dr. Miller (my maternal grandmother’s maiden name).  There were many more little and big synchronicities like this one – which I will perhaps write about in more detail another time. 
• Empowerment/Surrender — I’ve taken my health into my hands in a whole new way and am doing a very specific diet and protocol of herbs, supplements, castor oil packs, etc. (I’m calling it “Operation #StonesToStardust” and invite you to join me in visualizing the dissolution of these little guys hanging out inside me.) 

Some moments I feel amazing and plug into the knowing that my body is capable of miraculous feats, despite the odds. Other moments it feels unsustainable to follow 100% or to really know what is even good for my body, let alone actually working to dissolve the stones. And even if I do all of the things impeccably for the next several months, I may still have to get the surgery. If that is the case, I will feel proud of myself for going with my intuitive hit to try this- and trust my body will be in a healthy, clear place to go forward with whatever is necessary.

• Hopeful — 

Staying hopeful doesn’t mean I feel certain everything I wish for will come true – but rather that I can stay in a place of openness to see the infinite possibilities of every situation – and the potentiality for beauty, magic and grace to be woven through any circumstance. That’s certainly been the case so far, and I hope – or rather I trust – that it will continue to be so. 

Thank you for all your support dear friends. It’s such an honor to both hold space for you all and feel so held by you all at the same time. 

Loving you, 

Vanessa

Happy Equinox week friends, 

Today is the third day of Spring, and the air feels rich with hope. I’ve been sensing a turning point this last week, collectively and personally, with more spaciousness and potentiality available. 

Thank you to all who reached out with love and care around the loss of my brother-in-law Jim in early February… and then again with empathy when my Uncle Tim was very sick with Covid a couple weeks later. (Happy to report my uncle is home and well and mostly back to his energized extraverted ways.) 

Navigating life from a Soul Oriented perspective, means that moving forward is often not about advancing toward a goal. My somatic/spiritual compass often leads me in a direction without a fixed destination; moment by moment. At times in this past season, it felt like that compass was spinning beyond time and space. While I was in this state of spinning, I noted incredible access to states of awe, wonder and magic. Perhaps synchronicities abound during disorientation? 

During a solo hike in Marin last month, I veered off trail and found myself seemingly suddenly surrounded by six foot high coyote brush. I called my husband, who supported me in using the rather astonishing technology I held in my hand to call him, I could drop a pin and send the map to him. I used the phone compass to point me toward the main trail. I bushwhacked through thick brush for over an hour, losing my wallet and scarf and gaining, I later realized, a body full of poison oak. 

I made it out. And having literally touched so much wild earth, felt my feet land back on the ground. On this ground I would feel the discomfort of a body filled with weeping rashes… the pain of a heart weeping from loss…. the quiet of deep, unexplainable peace… the noise of deep, unexplainable confusion. 

And now, over a month later, I feel an emergence… thanks to time, rest, homemade body balms and kombu seaweed wraps, my skin is mostly healed… and my heart feels similarly soothed.

At the beginning of last Spring I was, with everyone else in the world, feeling the shock of being stopped in our tracks. This Spring, my feet are not just on the ground and my compass is starting to feel it’s way into new directions for the first time in a long time. There are more mysteries to uncover, pain be with, and wounds to attend to individually and collectively… but within that, in this moment, I am taking steps, light jogs, and occasional enthusiastic leaps forward.

How’s your compass these days? What is this Spring pointing you toward? 

With love, 

Vanessa

“Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.”   
-James Baldwin

Hello friends,

Early on in lockdown I was texting with my seven year old sagacious niece, who is a real live magical fairy.  She and I began to chat online more often once quarantining started and her pictures, videos and messages are always a tonic for my soul. Gratefully, she’s dancing in the world of unfixed ideas, grammar included, so her messages are often threaded together in ways that end up delightfully poetic. ” In one recent message, when I told her I loved her, as we both always do, she replied with… 

“Love is how we are Aunt Nessy” 

This past year, more than ever, I’ve felt how every cell of our being is love – whatever doesn’t feel like love, is a cry for love – a desire to take off our masks and come back into resonance with our true nature. While so much has been stripped away this year so many more complexities and challenges have also been added. But ultimately underneath and above and beyond it all.. is love. 

The essence of who we are is not a state or a place…it is how we are, regardless of what masks we wear to protect ourselves and others. 

Less than two weeks ago, my husband and I were unexpectedly in Las Vegas where his brother was on life support after he had a sudden heart attack while on vacation. Through the unfolding of many miracles, even during these covid restrictive times, we were both somehow able to be directly at his hospital bedside. As they removed life support and he transitioned to the space beyond our comprehension or knowing, there was only pure, clear love. Nothing, including the N95 on my face, the respirator on his, any questions about what happened or prior complexities of relationship could disconnect me from the flow of love between us… through the family… the lineage… the cosmos. 

It was a death and somehow a birth too, and one of the most profound honors of my life, to share that sacred space.  

When the veil is thin, the masks come off and all the mind’s stories more easily dissolve so that only the essence of who we are… and how we are… is there.

I have been riding the waves of grief these last two weeks. With the pain there has been so much healing and revelation and so, so much love.

The driving to Las Vegas… love.

The stories of guilt, feeling like I could have done more… love. 

The gut wrenching sobs… love.

The feeling of unexplainable peace and contentment, sometimes sooner than I think I deserve to be feeling it… love.

The desire to know more about his life… love.

The regret I knew less… love. 

The numbness… love. 

The anger… love.

The gratitude.. love. 

The sorting through papers and settling his estate… love.

The yearning to know… love.

The surrender to all we can never know… love. 

On this heart focused day, may we each bring enough presence to our life that we see how every impulse, emotion, thought or action comes from love. It’s just how we are.

Love, 

Vanessa

Hi Friends, 

One trillion lifetimes ago, on December 31, 2019, we had an NYE party at our home. I went all out in a hot dress, fishnet leggings, huge lightning bolt earrings, a red wig and an over the top make-up job done by a fabulous 12 year old boy whom I adore.

I experienced a powerful awakening in the months leading up to this, both personally and professionally, and I felt hopeful more was to come. So I filled my cup more than once with hard kombucha and toasted what I envisioned to be a year of speaking up and expanding out like never before. I went to bed with a full heart and expectant spirit.  

On New Years Day I woke up with no voice. Although I’m sure the debauchery, loud singing and laughing from the night before contributed, I felt something deeper. I spent the day in silence, meditating and opening up to the year ahead. The tarot card I drew that day for my 2020 messenger was “The Hermit.”  I was curious how this might play out, as my year ahead was already fully packed with travel plans, community gatherings, leading retreats & workshops and so much more that involved everything other than my understanding of this solitary archetype.

Little did I know, ten weeks later, this year would become a hermitage for us all.  

Or that we’d still be journeying on it, nearly ten months later.

On this journey I’ve learned, to my surprise, just how much I like being at home… and just how much presence and transformation can happen screen to screen….and that the feeling of “busy” often has more to do with my mindset than actual things I need to do or places I need to go.

But also of course, we have all grieved deeply this year, to varying degrees and over different things. Many have lost lives, livelihoods, food and housing security, and trust in leadership. We have almost all lost the calm that comes with having a general sense of what’s next. 

This year has asked us all to navigate the liminal space between the already and the not yet, where it’s often hard to differentiate between what is forever gone, what is forever reshaped and what may someday return. 

I’ve cried, danced and wailed more this year than the last several years combined. I’ve cursed and blessed this year, sometimes in the same breath. 

In that intensity, I’ve realized that being willing to say goodbye to things you love deeply, like one’s marriage for example, is sometimes just the medicine needed for it to come back stronger and more solid. 

So, for the first time that I can remember, I approach a new year with no resolutions to make. 

Instead I offer my fully broken open self for whatever is to be discovered or grieved, brought to life or brought to death. I lean not on my resolve, but on my resilience – found most fully in community – even if that community is on a screen, in a mask or way too many feet away from me. 

With love, in the midst of whatever comes, 

Vanessa

Longing for more soulful community — see postcards below! When I started my Patreon page in late 2019 it was to support my creative offerings. But what my soul MOST wants to create now is SACRED SPACE… so I’ve launched a new page and all who join the community at any level of support will have access to several community virtual events a month and the first small group 21 day meditation series starting January 11th … more details at this link.  

Hi friends,

Election day in America is just a few short days away. Or, for many of us, a few excruciatingly long days – and potentially sleepless nights – away – with who knows how much time in front us of even more uncertainty.

I hope beyond hope that we are all voting. Whatever your level of trust in the system is, it’s the one we’ve got right now and we can use it, with all it’s imperfection, to align with a future of leadership SO MUCH BETTER than what we’ve got now. As Rebecca Solient beautifully said “I think of voting as a chess move, not a valentine.”  This moment is calling for clear levels of spiritual, intellectual and creative strategies to call forth a more equitable and congruent future for our collective. 

But voting doesn’t stop on the ballot. We vote every single day with our attention. Where you put your focus is your hocus-pocus (on this Blue Moon Halloween day and beyond). 

The information we take in, like food or anything we ingest, becomes the building blocks of our emotional, mental, physical and spiritual selves. 

What is your attention building within you? Is the way you are engaging with media, social and otherwise, leaving you energized, connected, clearer and inspired to take action or depleted, isolated and paralyzed with fear? How often are you taking breaks, and resting in order to integrate and digest the constant stream of new information?

Since our attention is the main commodity for most media sites, they are designed to grab our attention and keep it. 

These days I’ve been getting more curious about the votes my attention makes that don’t align with my deeper values or desires.

When I feel scared and unsettled, I sometimes sooth with information seeking that leads me down an internet rabbit hole. The latest culprit has been presidential polls. Yet, like the junk food, I usually leave feeling less connected and more depleted. Information like this, shallow and quick, is like a refined sugar rush. I sometimes feel a little better in the moment, but it’s nearly never enough to really soothe me. 

What happens in this election is not the end of any story or the final say on what is or is not possible for us. Whatever plays out, we will need to be clearer than ever about where and how we give our attention to support the continued unfolding of more equitable, aligned and harmonious collective life on this planet.

That’s gonna take a whole lot of hocus-pocus focus, for sure, but I have a vote of confidence in our power to do it. 

Vanessa