There’s a conditioning in society that occurs, where we as humans attach our value to other people’s expectations, our productivity, our bank account, our waistline, etc. We often sabotage our own happiness because we feel we are not worthy of living a happy life. We either feel obligated to remain small because we feel guilty for being happy in the presence of friends and family who aren’t. Or we take on the shame of those around us.  

I believe that a low self worth is the virus that leads to depression, anxiety, drug addiction, and pretty much any problem that exists in today’s society. I also believe that raising our self worth is the antidote to these issues.  

It’s not just a female thing either.  Women do have it rough.  We live in a society that treats women as if we just exist for visual pleasure.  Magazines, television shows, movies, advertising, it’s all geared towards making women feel as if our value lies in our physical appearance.  It’s disgusting and disgraceful.  

But men have it rough too.  Men are taught to hide their emotions.  Just as we women are seen as supporting roles, men are forced into the leading roles.  And that’s a lot of pressure for someone who has no emotional outlet.  

Both sexes are constantly being manipulated into comparing themselves to unrealistic idols.  Both sexes are constantly being pulled away from vulnerability.  Low self worth is a disease that plagues everyone.  

I have encountered many people in my life who have a habit of tearing down the people around them to make themselves look better. These people are toxic, especially if you don’t have a solid foundation of self worth. But these toxic people behave that way because they are suffering from an extreme case of low self worth. The only way to combat this toxicity is to first build your self esteem up by realizing that their criticism of you is not real. It’s an expression of how they feel about themselves. It’s a projection of their innermost demons. And when we are able to recognize that deficiency in toxic people, we are able to maintain our own foundation of self love while interacting with these people. The next step is to show them love and worthiness as an example. Not every toxic person is ready to see your example. And it’s not your job to force their eyes on it. But if you shine your light bright enough, eventually you will drive out some darkness.  

I have read many articles about narcissism, sociopaths, and psychopaths. Most of these articles will advise victims to cut toxic people out of your life completely. And if you are dealing with an actual psychopath, that advice is absolutely true. But most people don’t meet the criteria of a narcissistic psychopath diagnosis.  A lot of people are self centered.  As domesticated as the human race has become, we’re really just highly evolved creatures, trying to survive.  Survival has always required a little bit of narcissism.  

Everyone falls somewhere on the scale of narcissism and empathy.  It’s the great balancing act of the self and the ‘other’.  That other being a romantic or business partner, a friend, a government, or a society.  Self love is healthy and necessary.  We come into this world alone.  You can’t function as a human if you don’t care for yourself.  It’s just that some people operate just off center on that scale.  Some people act as if their lives are more important than any other life.  They aren’t.   Oprah’s life isn’t any more important than Kim Kardashian’s.  And her life isn’t any more important than mine.  But some people see a pecking order in society.  Those people are hiding behind an inflated ego, because they’ve lost the substance of self worth.  The people who lack balance between the self and others, people who lack empathy, certainly don’t have any for themselves.  

 It is rare for someone to be a full blown narcissist with an inability to experience empathy.  These are your serial killers, child molesters, dirty politicians, and ruthless CEO’s.  These people should be treated as predators.  They are more than toxic.  They are defective humans.  But toxic people need love.  If we are to live in this world without war, we need to have a revolution of relationships.  Those of us with too much empathy need to heal those among us who have too little empathy.  And the only way to bring balance into our society is by blending those contrasts.  We all have to learn how to love unconditionally.  I’m not talking about romantically.  I’m talking about a humanitarian type of love.  

If everyone loved and respected themselves, the world would be a peaceful place.  Acceptance of ourselves will lead to acceptance of others.  

It all boils down to self worth.

How do you value yourself?  What spectacular uniqueness do you bring to this world?  Do you realize what a miraculous fucking creature you are?



I’ve finally made my way to the road of least resistance. I’ve been spending a lot of time lately, trying to find the balance between detachment and contentment. I’ve been preparing myself for a life of solitude. I’ve been planning my life consciously as a single person.  
This doesn’t seem like such a crazy idea, but I can honestly say that I’m the only woman I know out of my friend group who is capable of this. Every friend I know spends their single time, looking for a husband. They might make plans for the summer, but they carefully schedule their lives around the possibility of a partner.  

I get it. I do. I understand the undercurrent of loneliness in the river of solitude. As humans, we are pulled towards love. And love is the precursor to sharing your life with another person. But I have the complicated chore of wanting love without the sharing of my life.  

So I have been researching the idea of love without commitment. I’ve decided that I don’t want a blended family. I don’t want to deal with a man trying to bond with my fourteen year old daughter or my eight year old who worships her father. She gets mad when I even mention how beautiful Johnny Depp is. She openly tells me regularly that she doesn’t want me to date. I can’t blame her. I don’t want me to date either. I’m not any good at it, and the last time I tried, I ended up living in a situation that was like Rainman meets Little House On The Prairie. It was awful and I promised both of us that I would never live with another guy. I am very well aware of the risk that promise holds with my daughter. I wouldn’t have made that promise if I didn’t intend to keep it. I’m all done with cohabitation in relationships. My family is sacred and I don’t want anyone interfering with it again.

But I do want love. I want someone to talk to about my day. I want to feel the sweet warm light of being loved. I want someone I can share my kidfree weekends with, who won’t try to merge into our lives. I want someone who can accept that my family time is not on the table anymore. I want a deep and transformative connection with someone, but I need that person to know that they will only ever experience the mother side of me through my stories and conversation. I want amazing sex and weekend getaways. I want smoking pot and looking at the stars. I want good morning texts and compliments. I want a genuine interest in each other. But I want these things with someone who is willing to squeeze a really big love into a very small space in my life.  
My options are limited at best. I can be a mistress. I can fall madly in love with a married man. I could be the other woman, who helps to fulfill the empty, mundane life of a forty something married man, going through his midlife crisis.  

I could break up all the love I have to give into passionate little one night stands. It is tempting to enjoy some stringless intimacy with complete strangers.  

Or I could date until I find some equally complex guy who would want to share my very unique boundaries in love.  

But options are expectations. And a life of detachment has no space for expectations. A detached life is more of a choice than anything. It’s not an easy choice either. Detachment requires the ability to live day by day, taking in whatever life hands you, and then just as easily, leaving it behind. Detachment is hope without expectation. Detachment is counting on only yourself, true independence.  

Detachment is planning the summer I want, without compromise. I have planned a marvelous summer for myself and my children. The itinerary consists of moonlight kayaking, weekends in a pink beach house, A Dave Matthews concert with a bunch of beautiful hippies and a motor home, reiki classes, Girls Weekend in Traverse City, an RV adventure with my ex husband, hiking the waterfall trails in the beautiful upper peninsula of Michigan, going to an Amos Lee concert with a complete stranger, and whatever else I feel like doing. Because detachment is making the choice to create your own life, one day at a time.  

I have not had a single summer in over three years. I’m going to enjoy this one.  

Fate Is What You Create

I read some old Chinese folk lore the other day, about an imaginary red string that is tied around the ankles of a soul mate couple.  No matter where you are at in life, that red string still connects you to the person you were born to experience life with. 

 I find the idea of soul mates to be completely ridiculous. I actually feel sorry for the handful of women that I know who have only ever been with one or two people. I have a married friend who lost her virginity to her husband. She is in her fifties and has only ever had one lover. What if he’s horrible in bed? How would she know? It seems very tragic to me. I suppose the two of them share so much intimacy, that their connection overrides the monotony.  It’s not my place to judge.  

I do understand the sexual value of an intimate connection. My ex husband was the first person I had ever felt that with. We had ten years together and he still remains the only man I have ever experienced real, raw intimacy with.   He and I didn’t have much in the way of companionship, but we had a very fulfilling sex life. Even after we separated and I moved out, we had amazing sex. We kind of had to ween ourselves away from each other in that way.  Ironically enough, we have a very stable companionship now, founded in coparenting and a mutual respect for each other’s journey.  But we were never soul mates.  

I think I am the only astrologer in the world who doesn’t believe in soul mates.  I mean, there are aspects in compatibility astrology that can signify an intense connection.  There are aspects that point to attraction, love, and relationships.  I can accurately predict if a couple will share a child.  But I don’t see it as two people who are destined to come together and share those aspects.  I see it as a choice that two people have made, and their energy is compatible or not.  But it has nothing to do with destiny.  We all share these aspects with many people.  By that logic, I have thousands of soulmates in this world.  

The belief in soulmates automatically smothers out the idealism of choice.  Life without choice would be nothing more than acting.  The theater is entertaining, but you don’t gain any value from speaking someone else’s words or moving through someone else’s motions.  Free will is a non negotiable in my beliefs.  And that means that in any given moment, we have the ability to choose our own life.  We have the logic to understand that the head and the heart are separate for a reason.  We can feel a pull towards or away from another person.  But we are gifted with the ability to choose.  Love is a choice that you make and not some fated birthright.  

I don’t have some imaginary red string tied to some elusive man who was born to be my lover. I have a heart that has loved many.  And I have a brain that has always known (although sometimes a little too late) when to walk away.  Choosing to love someone is much more romantic than enslaving yourself to fate.  

I see life in much the same way.  Life is nothing more than a series of decisions.  Astrology is a compass, not a destination.

Wake up, Venus.

As an astrologer, I relate everything in my life back to the stars.  I know that astrology is not 100% proven. There’s a small part of me that knows how completely insane it sounds to believe that constellations, which barely resemble various objects that symbolize certain ideas in life…is a real thing. In a universe as vast and as beautiful as ours, it seems that God would come up with constellations that more closely resembled a crab or a lion. Or even come up with a better system all together.  It sounds ridiculous, when I think about it.  I’m actually more skeptical about these things than I ever let on. 

But astrology is my chosen perspective on life. There’s a big part of me that has a subtle knowing of the concept:  ‘As above, so below.’   This concept is written in the Bible as, ‘we were created in his image.’  It’s the same idea.  The universe is my God, so this symbolism in the Bible resonates with me.

I believe we are somehow vibrationally connected to the planets, the sun, the moon.  Not so much like we are puppets on a string, but more like the planets are gear shifters that manipulate our lives for the common purpose of soul evolution.  They are characters in the sky, playing out in real time, through all of our lives. As above, so below sounds crazy. I get it.  I wouldn’t blame anyone who reads this for thinking that I’m a full blown nut job.  

In a world full of extreme religions, where a good percentage of the human population legitimately believes that a virgin gave birth to a baby, is it so crazy to assume that we are beings of energy, inhabiting shapes of flesh? Is it so crazy to believe that life is actually a series of situations and experiences designed to guide our souls into more evolved energy?  Am I mad for falling in love with the symbolism of the sun being our masculine side and our moon being the feminine side, a giver and receiver, a father and a mother.  It makes sense to me.  It’s a language that I understand as naturally as my native tongue.  

In my spiritual beliefs, I allow myself to see the big picture.  I don’t judge people, because I have a good understanding of the concept that we are all molded into ourselves through our environment and experiences.  No one in this world could ever imagine what I’ve been through in life, and vice versa.  This idea allows me to live from a place of love in all aspects of life.  I live and let live.  

Like I said, I relate everything back to the stars. Astrology is my roadmap for life. And at the moment, I am knee deep into my ruling planet’s retrograde. It’s always predicted that old loves come back around during Venus retrograde in the seventh house. And this has absolutely been happening. I ran into the first boy I had ever kissed at the gas station. I hadn’t seen him since I was seventeen. He looked really good. I looked like hell. Unfortunately, Venus also rules beauty. What a shit deal that was, running into my hot old flame, but looking like a scene from the hangover because I’m exhausted and slept in too late to brush my hair. Thanks, universe!

Then there was the very odd message from my very odd ex boyfriend. I had unfriended him after the break up. We haven’t spoken since November, and he sends me this out of the blue…

‘Although I don’t exist in your virtual reality anymore, I still exist in actual reality. And so does your birth certificate. You left it at my house.’


There’s been more too. I think I’ve heard from about six blasts from the past since Venus went retrograde. It’s like the universe is parading all of my big mistakes right past me, so I can remember how dumb I get when love comes to town.

I suppose that it’s necessary to rub my nose in the stench of love gone bad, so I won’t go wandering through a mess like that again.  

But that being said, my soul can only evolve so much when stewing in my own solitude.  Quite the paradigm this crazy universe has set me up with.


“You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.” ~Rumi
I saw this quote today and instantly felt as if it had slapped me right across the face. Heartache has become one of my greatest fears, as well as one of my greatest inspirations. I’ve been walking the line between wanting to live in solitude and wanting to be loved. In other words, I don’t have the capacity for another heartbreak in my life, so I avoid love like a child avoids the monster under their bed. I hide under the covers. But while I am under those covers, I sometimes wish someone was in there with me, but only sometimes. I have soaked myself so deeply into solitude, that I fear I won’t ever be able to leave it.  

But this quote isn’t about relationships with anyone else. That quote is about the relationship with the self. Rumi is advising us to break our own heart, repeatedly, until it opens. He’s encouraging vulnerability, to the point where it doesn’t sting anymore. He is challenging us to cut directly to the bone of our heartache infested selves, and then to pull out of ourselves our most terrifying ideas about who we couldn’t be. And then we must fall in love with those short comings.
When a relationship ends, and you blame the other person for everything, the opportunity for growth is unavailable. Growth comes from understanding that it all comes back to yourself. From the moment we seek out a relationship, the responsibility for choosing the other person falls solely on us. If you end up in a relationship with a complete psychopath, that sucks. But you chose that psychopath because there’s something inside of you that needed that psychopath. And you have to keep digging at that little something until you finally understand it. Only then will you be able to grow, and trust, and finally open your own heart.  
I believe that opposites attract because there is an opportunity for growth in every disagreement. We learn about ourselves through experiencing other perspectives from the people around us. We manifest our own lessons. And the only way to stop getting lessons is to test out of them, to rise above them, to annihilate them. Relationships are designed to teach us about ourselves. They are an experience to be had, to be thankful for. They were never intended to hold you forever.  

Sweet Dreams 

I have set some dreams aside along the way in life. I think it happens to everyone. You get this idea in your head of how life is going to go, and then life throws you a big fucking curve ball. And then another. And another. And then you just quit having ideas about the future. You just start to follow along with someone else’s, anyone else’s.  And your dreams fall behind.

Those days are gone for me.  I’m going to stop living small.  Im going to stop attaching myself to other people’s ambitions.  I’m going to start creating my own life based on my own dreams.

I’m going to write out some goals. And I’m going to chase them as hard as I can.

One might think that this sounds like a pretty normal thing to do with one’s life. Not a big deal. But to me it is a big deal. I am very much a ‘live in the moment and go with the flow’ type of person. Plans feel like decisions, and decisions feel like commitments.  And being the Libra Sun and Rising that I am, I absolutely despise making decisions. My fear of commitment level is off the charts. I couldn’t even commit to myself. But that fear is beginning to fall away.  

So here is a painting of the future I have dreamed up from for myself…

I want to spend more time with my children. I’ve been told by two different palm readers that I am destined to be rich. One said my fortune would come from the lottery. The other predicted riches from fame. I will admit that I have started to buy lottery tickets for the first time in my life. And thanks to that palm reader, I will be buying those damn tickets until the day I die.  

But just in case my good fortune falls through, I’m hoping my massage therapy career will blossom into something that allows me to quit the cubicle life. I don’t need to be rich. I just want to work a little less, so my kids don’t have to raise themselves. And I want to be mobile enough throughout the day, that I can live long enough to help raise my grandchildren. I just want to spend more time with my girls.  

If the massage career can’t get me by, I want to supplement my massage job with a part time job at the school. Maybe an aid, maybe a lunch lady. I just want to be present as a parent.  

This will also free up some time for me to write more about astrology. I absolutely love writing about the moon phases, but I want to expand my writing to horoscopes and monthly advice write ups, based on the stars. I’ve also considered making videos. Astrology is my passion and I’d like to explore it more as a lifestyle.  

And when my youngest daughter graduates high school, I will take my ten years of massage therapy experience and move to the Florida Keys, where I will practice massage under a breezy cabana on the beach for some fancy resort. I will also continue to write from my humble little houseboat in the marina. And I definitely have an original Volkswagen bus. And weed is legal. And Rage Against the Machine reunites. And I am standing on the beach with a good lover by my side, watching the sunset with warm salty air reminding me that dreams sometimes do come true.  I feel beautiful and content.

And that’s it. That’s my perfect future.

Wild Woman 

I was pulled over on the side of the highway the other day, talking to my best friend on the phone. I was ashamed to admit to her that I had a flat tire and absolutely no idea how to fix it. What a horrible feminist I am. I’m thirty-six years old and I had to call my dad to help me change my tire. Of course my best friend is representing the fairer sex because if she hadn’t have been out of town, she would have helped me out. She has changed a flat tire before!

I became a feminist when I was thirty. I didn’t really understand what that word meant to me until I read my first Marianne Williamson book. That woman, my hero, had opened me up to a brand new perspective on life.  She taught me how to love myself. This was a brand new concept for me, a concept I am still and always exploring.  
The more I had fallen in love with myself, the more love I had to offer to the rest of the world. I became a human generator of love, creating it within myself and beaming it out into the world. For a woman to love herself, is an act of feminism. Because women exist in a world that exploits them, compares them, rapes them, and devalues them. Women are seen as less than, even by other women.  We are told to paint our faces, have a thigh gap, walk on stilts, and be something pretty to look at, but not slutty because that would bring shame.

I believe that the lack of female friendship in today’s society is a huge problem. Most of the women I know usually only socialize with their boyfriend’s or husband’s wives. The squad we ran with in high-school, disbursed into new cliques made up of the wives of the men that hang out with their husbands. I’m very proud to say that I have my own female friends. But we only get together a few times a year. Some of them only leave their men behind for our annual Girls Weekend, where my bestie and I have a very strict ‘No Penis’ policy. And we reinforce it by running around the lake house completely naked. It looks like a damn pagan holiday up there with all of us wild women running around naked, wine glass in one hand and a joint in the other.
Girls Weekend is the ultimate tribute to our Devine feminine energy. We get away from the world and surround ourselves with the beauty of Northern Michigan. We light a big campfire. We get sloppy drunk. We dance naked by the lake. We share our most intimate stories of past loves, life struggles and childhood traumas. We merge our lives for a short time and bathe in the freedom of being our true selves. We take respite from being the sum of other people’s expectations and drink away the burdens we carry all the other days.  We are the ‘Mom Squad,’ a name generously given to us by my fourteen year old daughter.

Girls Weekend is a tradition I hope my daughters will carry on when they are older.  Beyond Girls Weekend, I am blessed to belong to a tribe of women who gather every month to celebrate the full moon. We are a sisterhood of healers. We meditate. We burn white sage and palo santo. We chant ‘Om’ and discuss the astrology of the moon.  Rarely do we even mention our significant others.  We are strong women who carry our own identity.

These female friendships are responsible for not only holding my head above the water, when life is pulling me under; but for pulling me out of the current that I had been treading against my entire life.  

My best friend is my life line. She is my family. Our lives are familiar, as we have traveled through many of it’s hurdles together. She knows my life as a single mom, because she lives the same way. Our personalities contrast completely, but we admire and respect each other’s differences. We learn from each other.  We share with each other.  We talk about everything from life philosophy to raising our kids.  She is the person I call when I need someone to know me.  

This is something that the working woman’s generation has missed out on. Even when women were mostly domesticated, they had each other to lean on and converse with. It was common for women to gather at each other’s houses during the day to smoke cigarettes, play bridge, and watch each other’s children. They compared recipes and housekeeping tips.  I’m sure they talked about things we never want to imagine our grandmother’s discussing.  That feminine friendship probably saved a lot of women from the loneliness of being a housewife.

When women moved into the workforce, they lost touch with that sisterhood. They replaced friendship with water cooler gossip and weekend getaways with their husband’s poker buddies.  I will admit that I had lost touch with most of my girlfriends when I was married.  And that, I can promise you, will never happen again.  

I hope one day, it will be uncommon for a woman to travel this world without her very own wild woman tribe.  Mine is so very important to me.