Hello again, dear ones. Welcome back (or for the first time, for those who have recently joined) to the monthly Resourcing the Revolution newsletter.
First, before we dive in, happy Spring to those in the northern hemisphere! We made it! (!!)
As we welcome back more and more light and the natural world begins to wake (the green!), I find myself feeling more hopeful. Reminded of the cycles of life and existence. And more ready for whatever is next.
Once again, the theme of this month's edition took a turn I didn't expect.
But if I've learned nothing else over the past decade-plus, when I get "the" message from the universe, whatever it is, that's where I'm going. (I can try to avoid it or take a detour, but in the end, I get pulled back to where I was supposed to be. It's much easier to listen the first time.)
Lately, a question has been tickling at the edges of my brain: what if the disruption we’re facing isn’t just chaos — but is also clearing space for something we can’t yet imagine?
With the Spring Equinox today and also the beginning of the astrological new year with the Sun moving into Aries, we're stepping in fully to the season of new beginnings and through a portal of change and potential.
It's simultaneously been feeling a lot like, "get knocked to your knees 59 days in a row, get up 60" lately. But I'm doing my best to lean in to the power of possibility.
And with that blank future page sitting ahead of us, metaphorical cursor blinking and waiting for us to write the future, I've been thinking a lot about the power of our stories.
By stories, I mean: the ones we tell ourselves, the ones we tell to others, the narratives we're fed by media (of all sorts) and those in power — and the ones we unconsciously weave from all of it.
Then, the question becomes… what if the story we're seeing isn't the whole truth?
I'm reminded of a story I first heard my teacher Britt share:
A woman looked out her kitchen window every morning and shook her head at her neighbor’s laundry flapping on the clothesline.
"She really should learn to wash properly," she muttered. "That laundry is still so dirty."
Day after day, she made the same remark. Then, one morning, she looked out and saw crisp, clean sheets billowing in the breeze.
"Ah, she finally figured it out!" the woman said.
Her partner set down their coffee. "Actually, I got up early and cleaned our windows."
This simple shift (realizing that the "truth" we see is filtered through our own lens) is a profound example of how the stories we tell ourselves shape everything.
How often do we assume we know what's true, only to realize later we're looking through a distorted lens?
How many doubts, fears, or frustrations are based on outdated beliefs, external narratives, incomplete understanding, or unexamined assumptions?
This month, my invitation is this: clean your windows.
Pause and notice the stories running in the background. Then ask yourself:
Is this true? Is this mine? Who benefits from me believing this? And most importantly, could there be another way to see it?
Because when we change the story, we change what's possible.
Quote of the Month: The Stories We Tell Ourselves
This month, our quote delves into the dance between inner and outer, conscious and subconscious:
“The Dalai Lama has said, ‘In order to save the world, we must have a plan. But no plan will work unless we meditate.’
Clearly meditation isn’t everyone’s thing or even everyone’s passage into the realms of higher consciousness, but the point is still well taken. Until we clear out our subconscious demons, they will continue to destroy us. The limits on our ability to purify our hearts puts a limit on our ability to transform the world.
I say it so often because I need to hear it myself: ‘Pray in the morning, kick ass in the afternoon.’
Both our inner and outer powers form the key to our deliverance, not separate but together, in complementary relationship, not only art on a canvas but the art of a life well lived.”
—Marianne Williamson
If we want to be able to kick ass in the afternoon, we need a clear, solid, and focused foundation upon which to stand.
How are you tending to both your inner and outer work (and world) right now?
Idea of the Month: The Stories We Pay Attention To
If the stories we tell shape what's possible, what's the first step if we want to reshape our reality?
We begin by noticing what's here. What's true. What's now.
So much of life operates in the background, just outside our conscious awareness. But what happens if you bring the background into the foreground?
What are the dynamics at play in a situation? What are the roles, independent of who is playing them? What is the larger context we might not be seeing?
Too often, our attention gets pulled toward the loudest voices, the most urgent demands, or the familiar scripts of the past.
But instead of centering the antagonists — the distractions, the doom loops, the stories we don’t want to be living — what if we made space for the protagonists?
The people, values, and higher ideals that matter to us? The evolution within our revolution? The future we want to build?
A striking example of this played out on the global stage just last month with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy's contentious meeting with the current U.S. administration at the end of February.
It was a reminder of how many different versions of a story can exist at once, each shaped by the teller's perspective, agenda, and what they choose to highlight or omit. You might have seen a completely different narrative unfold, depending on which sources you followed.
Who was the protagonist? Who was the antagonist? Who "won" and who "lost" as a result of the confrontation?
If attention is the substance of life, then the question isn't just, "Where is my attention going?" It's also, "Who or what is shaping that direction?"
“If we think we know everything, we are likely locked in some past challenging experience or some highly anticipated future difficulty. It’s a sign that we may not be present, here and now. The present moment always involves the creative energy of uncertainty.” — Anima Mundi Herbals: Attention is an Act of Creation
Being present means opening ourselves to what is, not just what we expect, fear, or project. It means choosing where our energy flows instead of allowing outside forces to dictate.
And right now, more than ever, our attention is currency. This month, I invite you to take your attention back.
What do you want to pay attention to? What would you choose to focus on if the noise, the distractions, and the constant inputs fell away? What fills your cup? What makes life worth living?
Where your attention goes, your energy flows. And what you consistently give your energy to becomes your life.
What are you creating with your attention and with your stories?
Photo of the Month: The Stories Nature Tells Us
The story I'm reminding myself of this month is this: Hope.
I can feel hope pushing up through the darkness in these early days of spring. Poking her head into the light. Reminding us that the cycle of life continues.
Nature rises with the growing light. And so must we.
Short Practice of the Month: The Stories We Focus On
Today's short practice is deceptively simple. There's an ancient yogic practice called Trataka, also called candle gazing.
It's the epitome of "pay attention."
The practice uses a single point of focus, whether a candle flame, a plant leaf or flower, or an internal visualization.
How to do it:
Sit comfortably, with a lengthened spine (upright while also relaxed).
Choose what you're focusing on (whether a candle flame, another mostly still object, or an internal visual), and ensure it's at eye level about three feet away.
Gaze at the object for around 3 minutes (to begin). Try to keep 100% of your focus on the object, and notice if your mind starts to wander or your eyes get distracted by something around you. If so, bring your focus back.
Once your time is up, close your eyes and try to visualize the object in your mind's eye, or watch for the afterimage against your closed eyelids.
Health note: Be aware that this practice can trigger a headache or cause minor eyestrain, and avoid or adapt the practice based on your body.
Post of the Month: The Stories We Choose to Live
Sometimes, shifting our perspective is as simple as cleaning the proverbial windows.
Other times, it requires something more: paying deep, unwavering attention to what's happening around us, even when it's uncomfortable. Even when it demands action.
That's what happened to me back in 2011.
I had called myself an environmental activist for years. But to that point, I had been more of an "armchair activist" and most of my activism had been missing three key letters: Act.
There came a point during that year that I could no longer look away. When I paid deep attention to what was happening, I couldn't keep doing what I'd always done.
So, on August 20 of that year, I sat down in front of the White House in protest of the Keystone XL pipeline. A few hours later, I was arrested.
That weekend — held in jail alongside 65 others in the first wave of what would become the largest act of climate civil disobedience in decades — was one of my life's most challenging and transformative experiences.
I wrote about it in the following days, struggling to find the right words but knowing that fear wasn't a good enough reason to stay silent.
Today, I'm pulling that story back out of the archives.
So here it goes. This story has 64 other forms, and most of them tell it far better than I ever could. But, each one of us has a different internal monologue, a different set of filters through which to view the experience, and a different voice with which to tell the tale.
Attention is an act of creation. And what we choose to see, to focus on, to care about? That is what shapes the world we live in.
In the face of an administration that has begun cracking down on dissent and protest, raising our voices, refusing to look away, and refusing to comply in advance become all that more important.
What story are you choosing to live?
Song of the Month: The Stories We Sing into Being
This month's song was originally going to be something different, until this one came on while I was doing final edits on the newsletter. (What was that I mentioned in the beginning? I'm listening, universe!)
Shawn Gallaway asks us to make a choice in what we see in I Choose Love:
I can see laughter or I can see tears I see a choice Of love or fear What do you choose?
I can see peace or I can see war I can see sunshine Or I can see a storm What do you choose?
I can see sharing Or I can see greed I can see caring or poverty What do you choose?
I can see gardens or I can see flaws I can see life or death Coming on strong So what do you choose?
I choose to love with freedom, fire From my heart where the light keeps shining And I choose to feel the whole world crying for the strength that we can rise above
I choose love
I see us healing Darkness dying I see us dawning as one world united
So what do you choose? Love or fear?
As we collectively create our narrative, what do you choose?
Mindset of the Month: Do Our Stories Divide Us or Unite Us?
Lately, I've been sitting with a complicated mix of emotions — anger, embarrassment, grief, and frustration — about the state of this (my) country.
For a while, I thought I was ashamed to be an American. But I came to realize that wasn't quite right.
I'm not ashamed of the people. At least, not most of them.
(I'll admit I'm pretty pissed at anyone among the 30+ percent of registered voters who actively chose not to exercise their constitutional right to vote, but that's not the focus of this month. Related, but also not the focus, the voters who were intimidated, disenfranchised, or otherwise discouraged from voting. Ahem.)
The systems we've built in this country are deeply flawed. Even broken.
I'm horrified by those systems, by the decay of leadership, by the cowardice, greed, and manufactured division that keep us from collectively moving forward.
But even if the bones are decaying, that doesn't mean the populace is rotten.
It's supposed to be WE, the people. United, not divided.
As I consider the collective story moving forward, I feel compelled to look to the roots of the issues we all face.
The first question I have is, how did we get here?
Our identities are being weaponized — turned into labels that make us "other," aim to make us see enemies around every corner, and at the same time make us easier to control.
The forces that profit from division don't want us to realize how much we have in common.
But I've seen firsthand that connection is possible, even with folks we might be told are too different and not worth the effort to connect with.
After August 12, 2017, when neo-Nazis converged on Charlottesville (my home at the time) for the Unite the Right rally, a group of us in the tech community gathered to ask: What can we do to begin to heal our city?
Part of what came from those conversations was the Connect Cville Challenge, a simple but powerful initiative: Sit down with someone outside your usual circles. Share a meal. Listen.
One of the first meals I helped facilitate included a woman who had just moved to the U.S. from Burma, a gay Republican, and two older hippies. None of us had met before that lunch. And despite what might have seemed like stark differences, what struck me by the end of our gathering was how similar some of our stories were.
Underneath all the labels, we are more alike than those who control the narratives want us to believe.
So this month, my invitation to you is this:
Notice when a narrative is trying to pit you against someone. (Hint: it won't be hard to find, given the current state of things.)
Pause before assuming the worst. (One of my favorite invitations is to "assume good intent." It can feel near impossible these days, but it's a powerful start to any conversation.)
Then ask yourself: Who benefits from this division? And what might change if we sought understanding instead of conflict?
If we are ever to rebuild what's broken, it won't come from the top down. It will come from us, choosing connection over separation, presence over speculation, and stories that unite rather than divide.
We, the people.
Invocation of the Month: The Stories We Hold Together
None of us can do this alone.
In a world that too often demands individual solutions to collective struggles, it's easy to feel like the weight of change rests solely on our shoulders.
But the truth is, liberation is never a solo act. It's something we build together — in the spaces where our voices meet, in the moments we hold each other through uncertainty, in the shared belief that another way is possible.
This month, I bring you an invocation from a friend I first met over a decade ago:
I don’t know what to do because I know there is nothing I do alone that will be enough. I know alone is the opposite of liberation. I know freedom is a collective endeavor. I know the first step is to gather around a fire and say what we see, say what we feel, say I see it too, say I’m right here with you. Say, none of us hold this alone. Say, this is impossible but it also must be done.
Hold on to love. Hold on to each other.
Together, callings rise that we’d never find in the dark of isolation.
Together, possibilities emerge that are less about saving the day, and more about saving each other.
— Rachael Maddox
Her words remind us that while the work ahead may feel impossible at times, we do not carry it alone.
We gather. We witness. We hold on to love.
And together, we rise.
Invitation of the Month: The Power of Our Stories & Our Presence
We all carry stories about who we are, what we're capable of, and what's possible for us.
Some of these stories empower us, while others keep us stuck. Many of them aren't even ours to begin with — they're shaped by societal expectations, outdated narratives, and the pressures we've absorbed along the way.
But what if you could step back and rewrite the story? Not by forcing change but by creating the space to hear your own voice again.
That's what we'll be doing during Revolutionary Reset (May 2-4), a virtual retreat designed for changemakers who are ready to reclaim their power and reimagine what's next.
The weekend isn't just about reflection — it's about realignment.
During our time together, we'll move through a structured, action-oriented process to help you:
Identify the outdated stories holding you back. Reconnect with what's true for you. And step into your next chapter with clarity and confidence.
Registration will open next month, but you can sign up for the waiting list now.
If you're not quite ready for an entire weekend, a great place to start is my upcoming workshop on March 22nd (this Saturday) — Building Resilience: Your Toolbox for Turbulent Times.
This one-day experience is all about practical, embodied tools to help you feel more grounded, clear, and capable in uncertain times.
I've been building out the curriculum this week, and I'm super excited to offer this set of tools and practices (that help keep me from losing my shit when things get chaotic).
And, of course, you’re more than welcome to join for both!
Writing the Next Chapter: What Stories Will We Carry Forward?
Our stories are not just reflections of the past. They are maps for the future — a way to shape what's possible.
Jonathan Gottschall says, "We are, as a species, addicted to story. Even when the body goes to sleep, the mind stays up all night, telling itself stories."
So as we step into this new season, I leave you with this: What story are you carrying forward? More importantly, what story are you ready to change?
Until next time… Let's keep writing the future. Together.
Exhaustion and helplessness are not our only options. We can stay informed without burning out. We can take action in ways that align with our strengths. We can care for ourselves and our communities. We can hold onto our shared humanity. And we can look toward a future worth fighting for. As a guide, channel, and truth-teller, I help women changemakers reclaim their identity, step into their power, and cultivate the space they need to thrive. I don't just teach "self-care" — I help women come home to themselves. This is more than personal growth; it's about awakening the collective, allowing the divine feminine to rise, and shaking up the status quo to build a more beautiful world. I believe that – together – we can be catalysts for impact and positive change.
