Letter to my Children: Single Use Plastic ... Bespoke Clothing

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Letter to my Children: Single Use Plastic ... Bespoke Clothing

Recently, you two played very quiet indoor soccer. On the other end of the building your mother had this internal conversation.

Corinna, raise your hand. You will be mad at yourself if you ignore this nudge to speak.

I am going to ask this question in front of all of these fellow soccer parents - out myself as a crunchy hippy environmentalist - even though I know the answer is capitalism and no, there is no wiggle room.

Yup. Be the Lorax.

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Letter to my Children: Love vs Ignorance

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Letter to my Children: Love vs Ignorance

Dear Beloveds,

One morning on our drive to school I took a break from exclaiming over the rose fingered snow covered mountains. “Okay kids, I want to share something with you that really resonated with your Momma. I was listening to Josh from The Emerald* interviewing a professor, Dr. Omid Safi. The professor said that in his religion, the opposite of love is not hate. The opposite of love is indifference. I think this is so so soooo true and I wanted to talk about it.”

Quiet in the car.

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The Dream of Safety

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The Dream of Safety

In 1984, James Baldwin wrote an essay for Essence, “On Being White… And Other Lies”. I urge you to chew on the whole thing again and again and again - because James Baldwin, sigh, what a BRAIN!

Quite convincingly, Baldwin argues the construct of “whiteness” or “being white” was chosen deliberately by European immigrants in order to participate in and benefit from America’s racial hierarchy.* As such, those of us who identify as white are left bereft of any moral authority.

America became white - the people who, as they claim, "settled" the country became white - because of the necessity of denying the Black presence, and justifying the Black subjugation…

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Letter to My Children: X Days

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Letter to My Children: X Days

“Momma, why do you have big Xs in your book?” Looking up from her morning granola, Bean’s gesticulated with her spoon toward my open calendar book.

“Ah ha, those are my favorite days. Those are the days where I am not allowed to schedule anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if I want time and space to focus and work on my own projects it is really difficult for me to do that if the day is carved into appointments all day long. It is really easy for your mother to fill my day with doings if I didn’t write big Xs in my book.” I flipped back to a week before school started. “See how this week, every day is filled with doings? Party, doctor appointment, friend call, another doctor appointment…”

“But why a big X?”

“That way, I have to think twice before putting something in that day because I know I am sacrificing a day of Corinna creativity… it better be worth it!”

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Letter to my Children: Day Drinking, The Overstory, Self Judgement

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Letter to my Children: Day Drinking, The Overstory, Self Judgement

My dearest beloveds,

I have gone back and forth about this missive several times. It is a poem (see below*) and now a whole lot more.

To summarize, on the last full day of our magical vacation I felt so confronted by the situation I self-medicated with two White Russians, an Aperol Spritz, and a Mojito. Not surprisingly, I passed out on the beach after lunch.

What situation? I hear you both ask. You sailed everyday, ate passionfruit and mango, gazed at the ocean while doing yoga, and swung on a trapeze for the first time in your life.

Yes, that is all true, it was truly divine.

AND every morning BIPOC bodies of former European colonies collected cigarette butts, empty champagne glasses, errant volleyballs, straightened beach chairs, and prepared food for 98% White European bodies.

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Letter to my Children: Integrity, Lying, and Dignity

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Letter to my Children: Integrity, Lying, and Dignity

Dearest Beloved Children, 

We are at the end of 2025 and our world is having a nervous breakdown. There is really no other to describe what is happening. 

I don’t need to list the reasons why people are overwhelmed. I want to talk about integrity because it is an integral component in your mother’s toolbox against these winds of accelerated chaos.

Integrity.

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My Year of Barbie Boobs

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My Year of Barbie Boobs

Last year at this time I wrote an email to close friends sharing with them that I was going to have new breasts for my birthday.

That happened.

3 months later drains were pulled, bruising settled, incision puffiness calmed, right side hematoma had been sorted, and I could grasp what living with these bags of saline would entail.

Not for me.

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Letter to my Children: On Saying I am Sorry and I Love you Rituals

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Letter to my Children: On Saying I am Sorry and I Love you Rituals

Dearest Beloveds,

In the spirit of non-martyrdom I want to introduce this missive by sharing a quote from Swami Kripalu that I heard recently. “Every time you judge yourself you break your own heart.” Cheers to avoiding self-inflicted heartbreak!

Your Momma vividly remembers walking with my friend E when I was about 9/10 years old. We were both complaining about how unreasonable and difficult our mothers were. E turned to me and said, “I have found it helps if you apologize first.”

I remember trying it and being shocked by how effective it was - reducing both the intensity and the duration of whatever kerfuffle the two of us were tussling over.

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Sneaking through the Cracks

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Sneaking through the Cracks

I deliberately stopped reading the news a month ago. I had stopped last November - but the urge to dive in and “be informed” pulled and tugged. I found myself diving into coverage comparing middle, right, left commentaries on all of the above, etc.

Until once again, the undigested vitriol of a mass PainBody frenzy became so stark. So confronting. So EXHAUSTING.

The Universe also sends me fairly regular reminders that focussing on such negativity is NOT good for any part of me (“ecumenically, spiritually, grammatically” - thank you Capt Jack Sparrow.)

So, I don’t deliberately click on any news. AND YET!

The world of text alerts and email requests means I know what is happening because the most click worthy headlines wiggle in.

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Thank you Joe Dispenza

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As I have mentioned in the past, I am a big fan of when all of the fingers I am called to are pointing to the same moon. This spring Rob Wergin’s transmission shared this:

Life itself can be challenging, and we keep carrying all of this luggage. All of these bags full of past habits and memories and things like that that are triggering us. Life goes in cycles and if we don’t clear these blockages they get bigger for the next cycle and the next cycle.

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Letter to my Children: Parenthood can be Quite Humbling

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Letter to my Children: Parenthood can be Quite Humbling

Dearest Beloveds,

Parenthood can be quite humbling.*

One of the most confronting parts of being a parent is realizing you are passing down your neuroses/limitations/Cranky Monster baggage to your children.

Many teachers over many years have all taught me the same thing. We are energetic beings in physical bodies. Our energy body/aura surrounds us like a glowing multidimensional egg of vibrational me-ness.

In that aura there can be blockages. Blockages made of past habits, memories, things that trigger us, woundings, fears, etc etc. Rob Wergin likes to call them mud pies. Mucky, dark, heavy glurpy goo that sticks within our aura and blocks energy flow. Meme told me when I was 12 that 4th dimensional creatures live in our auras - called in as helpers when we are afraid or in pain but then they never leave and become a handicap.* Perhaps those two are the same thing.

I spend a great deal of energy and attention cleaning up my personal mudpies - but sometimes I think I splash mud onto you two when I am not thinking.

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