Journey with Drake

🤲 A reflection on receiving help and showing up in community as a helper. Find it on Substack. Link in bio.

A couple days ago I posted a longer piece on “Preparing the Village: Anticipating Motherhood and Beyond.”

Struggling with chronic illness and all of the special extras that came with that (like floundering mental health) over the years made it glaringly obvious what it’s like to live without a strong support network in place. As much as a thought I had a “village,” I came to see the ways it wasn’t built on mutual aid and reciprocity. What I had wasn’t designed to really weather the storms of life—not in the ways that make one successful through challenging human experiences.

But over the last year, in beating chronic illness and, more recently, dealing with Hyperemesis, I’ve been digging in and figuring out: what does a healthy, mutually supportive and resilient village look like for me? How do I participate and weave in others? How to I share my abundance and who meets me in that?

Especially now that we have a kiddo on the way, it’s become even more important to strengthen the relationships that are here to lean in, show vulnerability and understand on-going presence.

So this week does a deep dive into those layers: participating in meaningful ways, the personal and professional aspects of a social life, as well as the ecological and educational pieces of designing village spaces to nurture strong communities.

Find it on my Substack ✌️

This past week I set up a pregnancy/ birth altar in my garden, in order to pay respects to this on-going transition I’m making as I journey from maiden to mother.

I’ll be adding to it over time I grow, as baby grows, and the moment in time comes where this babe makes his way into the world as his own little person.

Maybe I’ll still tend to it after… transitioning it into a more permanent place of gratitude in ode for the miracle of life I’ve been granted the opportunity to take part in.

I don’t know that I’ve ever fully tended to an altar over a long period of time, but in ode to better slowing down and appreciating the simpler things, it feels appropriate.

Also… Substack is cooler and I post more often there. If you’re not already subscribed, I recommend it!! Link in bio.

Newest post on Substack:

The Established Food Forest Takes Time: and So Does Our own Personal Evolution. Find it in my bio.

I don’t post much on here anymore, but as a reminder I am over on Substack if you wanna keep up with my life ✌️

Image from my front yard food forest:

I spy: Persimmon, borage, chicory, an apple tree with 4 varieties grafted onto it, strawberry, sunchokes, feverfew, love in a mist, motherwort and—if you look closely—a little bit of yarrow behind the persimmon. Also a lot of grass that I am too sick to do anything about right now… But when I do get to it, I either pull it and leave it all in place to build the top soil, or share it with the chickens. Or I sheet mulch it and call it good since it’s primarily in the pathways. Or chop and drop. So many options.

Two nights ago, I dreamt of a beautiful central courtyard where neighbors gathered to tend to their collective flock of chickens. It had high cedar walls, not to keep out people, but to offer a sense of protection to the animals and a workmanship that spoke to the community’s on-going care for this space. It met multiple needs: a gathering location for the community to come together, to harvest eggs and meat, and stacked with other functions as well, like areas for growing food and sheds for storing tools.
This glorified chicken run gave folks a place of purpose, could be used for educational purposes and encouraged leadership development as neighbors took on different roles.

I see myself contributing to these types of spaces in the future—it’s part of the vision that lies at the heart of my company . In the meantime, as I keep that bigger picture in mind, I’m honing in on the details and actions that are available to me right where I am. I’m exactly where I need to be to perfect the systems that are in my own yard, while supporting my clients in developing their spaces with more integrated regenerative living.

In our own backyard, my husband is currently building a new chicken coop to replace the temporary one we picked up when we moved in here a few years ago. It’s been enough to keep the birds safe, but it’s an eyesore and its falling apart. As he builds the new coop, I’m exploring design options to stack our functions within the run and open it up to fill more needs—for us, our neighbors and nature.

Read more on my new post, “Requirements of a Healthy Future Pt. 2: Chickens, Actualization and Resilience in the Face of Chaos.” On my Substack publication: The Earth Journey. Find it in my bio.

In this week's post "Requirements of a Healthy Future Pt. 1," I look at the seed of finding joy within our challenges and then go into the importance of developing a sense of place within ourselves and in the world—that only fully comes after we move through the “tipping point” of our experiences.

Follow me on Substack if you've yet to do so to keep up with me!

Requirements of a Healthy Future Pt. 1 Finding Joy in the Challenge and a Sense of Place across the Tipping Point

Last week I got into the garden and did a little remodel as I prepped the beds for their winter rest. The main change was moving the bee hives in so they can be a bit more integrated during this next grow season (plus I know thyself—I tend to things better when I have a good visual on them).

This week I reflected on being “Properly Resourced: Preparing and Participating in the Future of Reciprocal Systems.”

What does it mean to be properly resourced during troubling times? Looking beyond money, I invite us to take stock of our personal resources that might be overlooked but could be vital in face of failing systems we’ve historically been accustomed to relying on.

These factors include material, physical, emotional, spiritual, intellectual, creative, experiential, and relationships.

I then look at the foundational needs we must tend to in order to make the most of our resources, which include: physical, mental/emotional, spiritual, material and relational aspects of our well-being.

From there, I invite us to look at our needs, and share my own. I’ve seen this activity done in a variety of ways, but expanded on it in a way I think is important to reflect on—allowing us to gauge where we stand in engaging in reciprocal relationships within our communities—a must if we are to contribute to resilient communities of the future, grounded exactly where we are.

Would love to hear your answers, of the ways in which you are resourced and your own particular needs. May be weave webs of care together. 🕸️

Find the whole thang on Substack ✌️ link in bio

This week on Substack, I wrote about “The Personal as Political: Restoration to Feed our Collective Resilience.”

“Our greatest offering to this world is to transform our inner beings to be as healthy as possible. It requires us to get really critical about what true health looks like to us and our why behind that health.

Healthy so that we can continue to participate in these unjust and entirely unsustainable economic, educational and political systems? Nah.

Healthy in such a way that brings us back into our ancestral roots of listening and being in reciprocity with the land? Healthy so that we may connect with others from a place of unconditional love? And healthy in such a way that makes us resistant to mainstream ideologies, products and lifestyles that are killing people and planet and filling up the pockets of a bunch of arseholes? Yeah, that sounds about right.

But it means slowing down, healing generational and ancestral trauma that makes us easily manipulated, renegotiating our schedules, reading labels, identifying rhetoric, anddd learning to differentiate the inner voice from the conditioning we’ve received as indoctrinated members of this society.

So that’s what I’m doing over here, horizontal on the couch. It might not look like much now, but there is a change stirring within. I’m rebuilding my web of influence and care to better support who I’m becoming, tailoring what I’m studying to provide nourishment to the new threads that will one day be foundational to the future chapters of my participation.”

Find the whole thing on Substack. Free to follow, unless you wanna support my writing journey and get access to occasional exclusive previews to chapters from my books—the you can get a paid subscription.

Yesterday I posted the first chapter of my second book onto Substack, that takes place while we were in India and Nepal. My mom said it was “so, so, so, so good” (she’s currently my only paying subscriber). Maybe you’ll think so as well!

We have a ton of artists in our community— musicians, painters, dancers, film makers, etc. Those art forms are a little more common and sometimes easier to support because of their visibility. My primary art form is writing, and it’s an offering of mine that mostly takes place in my own little bubble, for now.

Soooo if you wanna support my art, and the thing I’ve been doing behind closed doors, or if you’re curious to what my books are like and wanna read a chapter, you might consider becoming a paid subscriber or donating a small amount to my Venmo to get access (for personal friends who would want that option). Think of it like buying me a pot of tea to cheers me for this journey toward authorship.

It’s not really about making money on it though. This is the biggest project I’ve ever done, minus running a business, and I’m not gonna lie… it feels good for someone to occasionally look up from their own busy life to offer an actionable way to cheer me on for this large labor of love I’m involved with. The paywall also helps keep it more exclusive until I get these books published, as showcasing any of it at this stage is a little vulnerable (actually posting any of it is very vulnerable because it’s so revealing to my inner worlds and my experiences).

So yeah… Head over to my Substack (Journey with Drake) if you’re interesting in reading! 📕 Follows, likes and comments go a long way 😊

I’ve been fighting hermit energy for years. Needing it. Craving it. Totally unsure how to obtain it or surrender to it fully.

The truth is, there have been two different personalities (that is, two different ideas of “me” I’ve projected onto the future) and they’ve been duking it out for some time now—the older, over-developed version having her last hurrah while dragging the new version of me in her destructive wake. That part of me is unnecessarily ambitious. It latched onto way too many ideas as to what life should look like, and significantly misread the limitations of what this body and mind are capable of. I’ve come to know her as the “maiden,” while the new iteration of me as “mother” arises from within.
Despite the writing on the wall, with all her might, that older part of me has spent a whole lot of energy trying to strangle out who I’m becoming.

As a friend pointed out over dinner the other night, I have been experiencing a profound, visceral ego death. Thus, for this past month, I’ve had to navigate midwifing a part of me through the death portal. Life, it seems, whether its tangibly alive, or an aspect of the psyche that has built itself an identity and sense of purpose, hold onto what’s known. Death is a primal fear shared by anything with a consciousness and evolutionary characteristic towards survival.

And this is fully inclusive of what we might identify as some part of our ego.

This past month was literally the hardest, most insane thing I’ve ever gone through. I wouldn’t relive it if you paid me less than a year’s salary. It was that hard. To hear about this tale you’ll have to wait around for book three of my trinity memoir series. (I’ll slowly be sharing chapters from the three books, but you need to be a paid subscriber on Substack to get access).

In the meantime, I shared a few things in my recent Substack post that have been my guiding me through this transition after shedding a significant aspect of self and the rehabilitation that I am now going through as I gladly settle into my hermit era. Link in bio 🧘‍♀️

Throwing it back to Switzerland with a post on my Substack today, capturing a little moment in time where I was reflecting on savoring the moment ((Are you subscribed to my Substack yet??). These photos are from when took the afternoon to explore Bern.

My writing was pretty prolific at the time, hints why we’re getting a handful of reposts from that period. If you’re lucky I miiiight even release a chapter from the first book in ode to the five year anniversary since I walked the Camino, BUT you’ll have to be a paid subscriber to get your eyes on it.

If you’re interested it would be great to have your support. Plus, I promise you it will not disappoint (how much wine did a drink on el Camino de Santiago? We may never know. That is unless you read the full book when it comes out and count 😬).

This past week I’ve written an absurd amount. Maybe 50,000 words? I’m not actually sure, since a fair amount of it is in my journal still waiting to be transcribed. But in all the deep movement and incredibly painful growth I’m working through, writing is my lifeline that gives me a sense of purpose in these times.

So yeah, check out my Substack and read today’s post! And subscribe if you want to support my work.

Here’s a special one for you today, folks. Five years ago to the day I was in Auchen, Germany, tagging along as a roadie for and this was one of my experiences. I present it for the first time to you today.

For a quick update . . . Whew, these times are throwing me into some deep, much needed transformation.

While I thought my third book—the last of the memoir trilogy I have been percolating on—would be based on some future adventure abroad, the events of this time period are particularly juicy, bringing with it the drama and eyebrow moments that rich stories are made of.

I officially have three books, all interconnected, flowing with themes that ignite the imagination, empower the inner self and are surprisingly all 100% true and real to my lived experience. This piece from Auchen might give you a glimpse into the magical world in which I inhabit, for all its light, illuminating moments and the quite dark and precarious places it takes me as well (this piece is not part of the books, but gives you a taste of my life).

Want to support my writing journey? Consider becoming a paid subscriber. It’s like buying me lunch every month to fuel the journey onwards. Heck, between my three books I’ve already written about 200,000 words. This is a real project that I have been pouring myself into and the ball is rolling. Your support would mean the world. And even if you wanna subscribe, without a financial contribution, that’s cool as well!

Find “Suffocating Greatness: A Dance with a Lost Man in the Streets of Auchen (2019)” in my bio.