Today I want to introduce you to someone.

Amelia Washington being gifted harvesting bags.

Her name is Amelia Washington. She is an Indigenous elder, healer, teacher, leader and member of the Nooaitch Band and the Nicola Valley Institute of Technology’s Elders Council in Merritt, B.C.

Before I do, I want to share a little bit about how Amelia came to be special to me and my partner Jason.

To do that I need to take you on a little journey beginning back in early June when my partner and I embarked on 23-day adventure around B.C., living out of our renovated campervan we affectionately named Hedwig.

My partner and I are looking for a home. More specifically, we are looking for a piece of land where we can create a refuge in nature, and invite others to experience a different way of life. I had this knowing that it would be the land itself that would call us in; that we would fall in love with a place and its people, and that the logical mind would not be the one to get final say on this decision.  

So, we decided to explore what B.C. had to offer. We bought a van. We converted it to a camper. We prepared and researched and planned for provisions and safety and weather. We did not decide on a specific route, but we did set some intentions. 

Prior to setting out on Part 1 of our adventure in June, my partner and I both set the intention of wanting to connect deeply with the land, and to, if possible, meet and connect with some people who are indigenous to the places we were visiting, and learn a little bit of their customs and ways.

Given we were in the midst of a pandemic, we did not know how (or if) this would be possible. We both wanted above all else to be respectful, and agreed that we would not enter any community that was not accepting visitors.

Beyond these intentions, our plans were flexible. On June 1, 2020, we set out, heading north on Hwy 99 past Whistler. We knew our general direction: Prince George, Prince Rupert, then (hopefully) Haida Gwaii (although at the time we left the island was closed to visitors, and, spoiler alert, it still is so we did not get to visit), then back east and south, and eventually home.  We knew we had a little over three weeks, we knew our van fully loaded could sustain us 10-14 days, and we had an app that showed us some back-country camping places. That’s it. The rest was up to the pull of the land, and our hearts along the way.

The first thing I will say is that it is impossible to overstate the beauty of this province.

We were completely and repeatedly blown away.

Hwy 16 west of Terrace on the way to Prince Rupert.

The drive from Prince Rupert to Prince George along the Skeena River is heavenly. Driving east into the sunset on a winding deserted road alongside a train track, sandwiched between mountains to the north and the rushing Skeena to the south, I was left speechless and humbled; my heart that weird emotional mix of grief and hope and gratitude that shows up when we are reminded there is still untouched wildness and beauty in this world.

The rest of our adventures up north did not disappoint either. From Prince Rupert we headed east to Terrace, and then north into the Nass Valley, home to the Nisga’a Nation. From the eerily powerful experience of driving through the lava beds, to a middle of the night bear-filled adventure on an old pothole-laden logging road, to an unexpected birthday celebration with an Indigenous man north of Kitiwanga complete with fireworks, to endless campfires, sunsets and stars so bright they make city lights seem dull, the north stole our hearts.

Arriving back in Prince George we restocked on food and fuel, and had a much-needed shower at a Husky truck stop, before beginning our journey east on Hwy 16 towards McBride. Again, there are so many stories I could tell of the adventures we had on Hwy 16 and the little lakes that populate the land in this area, but I’m trying to get to the part of the story where we met Amelia and her family, so for now I will only say this: the magick never stopped.

Past McBride we turned south on Hwy 5 towards Kamloops, and the adventures continued. From being invited to join a bachelorette camp out, to skinny dipping with new friends, to mystical experiences with a local shop owner who encouraged us to make Clearwater area the home of our retreat centre, we were abundantly blessed with nourishing connection and the beauty of nature. Though I didn’t think it possible, I’d say Clearwater (and especially Dunn Lake) stole my heart even more than the powerful Skeena up north.

And then just when we thought it couldn’t possibly get better, it did. After a wonderful visit with my cousins in Chase east of Kamloops, and some exploration of the desert (which was stunning!), we found ourselves at a little recreation site on the Nicola River west of Merritt.

When we found a spot we liked, out of courtesy, Jason went over to meet out neighbour, and ask if he minded if we camped next to him. He was a middle-aged man with a camper and appeared to be by himself. He said sure, and later that evening came over for a beer at our campfire to get to know us.  We hit it off right away. Over the course of the evening he let us know that his wife and her family, who were Indigenous to the area, and members of the band who owned a portion of the recreation site, would be joining him the next day. He encouraged us to come over for a fire the next night and meet them.

Of course, we did. The following day we joined him at his fire, and met his wife, her sister, and “Aunt Amelia”. They were all very welcoming, and I had this feeling like we were supposed to meet them, and get to know them. Over the course of the four days we were camped next to them, we became good friends. We learned a lot about the area, its sacred sites, and the traditional ways of the Indigenous community in the area.

Amelia took us out to pick traditional herbs and medicines. She taught us about the plants in the area and some of their uses. She also made traditional bannock for us, and led a healing ceremony for Jason and I on our parting. Other family members, took us out for a drive on the land and showed us the property they were just starting to develop into a teaching and healing retreat centre, very similar to what Jason and I want to do. There were so many moments of serendipity and profound alignment with life.

We laughed for hours by the fire every night. Deep connections were forged. We were encouraged to come back. And so we will.

Jason and I have just embarked on Part 2 of our van adventure. We left this past Sunday and will be away until early September. We are exploring the southeast of B.C. this time, heading first to Nelson area, then north to Revelstoke, and back around through the Okanagan, before spending the last week of our adventure back in the Nicola Valley visiting our new friends.

We are still open to where we settle, but I can say that a little piece of my heart already lives in the Nicola Valley, and, regardless of where we end up, I am looking forward to visiting again, and will be forever grateful for the experience, and the connections.

I hope my story has given you a good sense of the generous and wise spirit of Amelia Washington.

You can learn a little bit more about Amelia’s history and background in this recent story published in the Merritt Herald (https://www.merrittherald.com/medicinal-garden-honours-elders-at-nvit/) and about her role on the Elder’s council at Nicola Valley Institute of Technology here: https://www.nvit.ca/about/elderscouncil.htm.

If you are interested in learning more about how to harvest and use traditional foods and medicines check out Amelia's Facebook page, Amelia’s Traditional Food Gathering. She is regularly taking groups out on the land to harvest the medicines that are in season.

You can also check out a video of Amelia on a recent CNA - c̓eweteʔ (Wild Celery) Harvest on July 3, 2020 here.

Amelia Washington welcoming their youth onto their land at the canoe launch on Nicola Lake.

Amelia is truly wise, intuitive and generous. She is a gift to all who cross her path. If you are ever in the Nicola Valley I encourage you to join one of the groups she takes out on the land to harvest traditional medicines. You will not be disappointed.

And now, the adventure continues…

Xo,

Danielle

I am a healer, not a fighter.
I make peace, not war.
But I do it by avoiding conflict,
which doesn’t get me very far.

This little jingle popped into my head yesterday as I was walking home. It’s getting kind of annoying. Partly because I can’t get it out of my head, and partly because it’s true.

Conflict has been on my mind a lot lately.

It seems that, try as I might, I can’t avoid it. In the past few years, conflict, and the discomfort it stirs in me, has been a core challenge in everything my soul has called me to create and to do.

I have never been one to seek out conflict. For most of my life, I have done whatever it takes to avoid it, including compromising my values, my integrity and my self-worth. Conflict has been showing up more and more in my life lately, in part because I have become less and less willing to compromise myself in these ways. But that was not always the case.

I learned from when I was very little that conflict kills relationships. As long as the conflict remains small enough, it can be covered up and the relationship can survive by pretending it doesn’t exist. However, as soon as the conflict bursts open and there’s no way to hide it, the relationship is over. I go back to my life, you go back to yours, we pretend nothing happened, and we never speak again (or if we do, it is superficial).

Until a few years ago, I felt like the only options for life were to either be alone, or to be in relationship where I can only be myself to the extent I do not conflict with the other person, or group.  So that is how I lived: alone, or with others hiding parts of who I am and what I believe.

I am not shaming or blaming myself here. (I used to, but I am practicing putting that bat down.) Avoiding conflict at the expense of integrity and authenticity is not only culturally acceptable, it is encouraged.

We are repeatedly fed messages that it is better to blend in than to stand out. (As an aside, blending in does not necessarily mean being quiet; if everyone is shouting about something you should be too.)

Don’t stir the pot. Be nice. Be quiet. Be polite. Be politically correct. Don’t be offensive. Don’t go against the grain. What are you trying to prove? Are you stupid, or naïve? Are you simply an asshole? Stop, you’re embarrassing. You should be ashamed of yourself. No one wants to hear your crazy thoughts.  

Worse than that, is the silent shaming, the judgment-filed glances and the whispers behind backs: “Guess what so and so said/did? Can you believe it? How dumb can she be?”

We now even have a thing called “cancel culture” where someone can be socially obliterated (at huge cost to both personal and professional life) for saying or doing the wrong thing.

As much as we like to pride ourselves on being independent, we all need to belong. If saying or doing something might threaten our sense of belonging, we will think twice before we say or do it.

I have silenced myself and squeezed myself into boxes more times than I can count for that very reason, at huge cost to my own mental and emotional health.

Over the past seven or so years of personal transformation, I have found ways to express my truth, and to go against the grain, many times, in the face of my fear of conflict.

Yet, here I find myself at the table dining with the same old foe.

So, what is the answer? Is it for me to simply toughen up, and get better at being okay with the possibility of being disliked, judged, rejected, or even “cancelled”?

Yes, of course, it is. There is more room for me to face my fears and to grow.

I also believe I’m not alone in feeling like the stakes are higher right now.

Systems are unraveling. Change is being thrust upon us. People are afraid, distrusting and on edge. Tension is in the air at all times. Saying or doing something offside is like adding gasoline to an already lit fire.

There are two default ways that people respond to this kind of environment of the unknown. People like me, who’s default survival strategy is flight (or freeze) will silence themselves, pull back and stop sharing. And people who’s default survival strategy is fight, will start shouting aggressively, and get defensive in the face of anyone who disagrees.

Neither approach is wrong, but neither is helpful if we want to create something different than what already exists.

Recently, I got really sick of staying quiet, so I gathered up my courage and I started sharing about what I believed. I noticed that as I did, I began to feel more and more righteous, and my defenses went up the moment people challenged me. I didn’t like how that felt or who I was being.

I retreated. Partly, because it’s my default, and partly because I could feel that my shouting would not help me to make a difference any more than my silence.

So, how do I show up differently?

How do I speak up, and stay engaged, but not dig my heels in and fight?

This is what I have been sitting with.

One thing I noticed that stays the same for me, both when I am silent and when I am shouting, is my heart. It remains closed. When I am silent it is closed to the heartbreak and the rage that I feel about the injustice in the world. But when I am shouting, my heart is closed to the impact I have by launching my pain into the world.

Another thing I noticed that stays the same is my fear of being with conflict. In both scenarios, it is running the show. I am either avoiding it by not saying anything, or avoiding it by defending my position so hard I am essentially “cancelling” anyone who disagrees with me. In neither case am I willing to be with the tension of conflicting opinions, ideas or thoughts.

I have been thinking about what it would take to truly “be with” conflict. “Being with” in the sense of showing up to the conflict with my whole being: head, heart, body and soul.

Over the past few months, this is what I have been practicing.

I have been practicing keeping my heart open when someone challenges something I say or do. I have been reminding myself that my belonging is inherent, and not something that is bestowed upon me by family, friends, lovers, or groups.

I have been practicing remaining present in my body when my anxiety starts to rise, and resisting the urge to “make peace” at the first hint of a fight.

I have been practicing trusting the wisdom of my soul that knows it is only in standing in the discomfort of our differences that we can sustainably transform this world.

It has not been easy. I have come leaps and bounds from how I used to show up (or, rather, not show up) in times of conflict, but I still have a ways to go to rewrite my defaults of peacemaking and avoidance.

I will keep practicing, though, because I do believe that finding a way to deal with differences and disagreements outside of apathy or attack, is integral for humanity if we want to create a more beautiful world for ourselves, and all life.

xo,

Danielle

My partner and I have been living out of our van for 10 days now.

It feels like we’ve been out here at least a month. The hours go by fast but the days are somehow slow.

One gift of adventure is it demands our presence, and each minute spent paying attention is a minute more to cherish and remember.

I think life passes us by so quickly because we aren’t paying attention. Our culture prefers us this way: anesthetized and working away without questioning - without questioning whether what we are doing is fulfilling us, and without questioning the systemic violence and destruction of life we are perpetuating.

Living in this kind of autonomous state is maintained mostly by not stopping, and by having a way to stay numb to the pain when we do. The most culturally approved way this shows up is overworking, overeating and booze. There are others of course. I know how autopilot looks for me. You will know how it looks for you.

We all have our own flavour of apathy.

In light of COVID-19, the past few months I have been paying more attention. I have been following the news when usually I don’t. I have been concerned with what is going on “out there” because it has been impacting my basic freedoms. These are not usually things I need to worry about.

The past few months have presenced me to some of the freedoms I take for granted. I have become a more active and engaged citizen as a result. I have been paying attention. I have been using my voice. 

In light of the recent murder of George Floyd, and the much-needed global conversation on racism it has sparked, I have intentionally been silent for the past week, both on my social media pages and on here. I have been reflecting on my own privilege and the injustices that so clearly still exist, and learning from the black and indigenous leaders I follow on social media.

I have also been spending more time offline, allowing nature to be my teacher.

The thing that keeps coming up for me is that I need to be even more willing to pay attention, to use my voice and to risk my heart.

As a white, attractive, intelligent, able-bodied, straight woman who was raised in a Christian community, I have had privilege bestowed upon me from nearly every angle my entire life.

In its simplest form, I have the privilege of feeling and being safe. I have had the privilege of knowing that our education system will groom me for success, our workforce will employ me, our health care system will tend to me if I get sick, and our justice system will do right by me, and my family.

I have had the privilege of being protected by our culture from the rough edges of life. I still do.

I have always known this on some level, although I have mostly not thought of it as a privilege. It has simply been my experience of life. To a large degree I have felt entitled to it. To be fair, I have always felt that everyone was entitled to it, but I have done little to acknowledge (or for that matter, work towards changing) the fact that many do not have the basic levels of safety and security I take for granted.

Recent events have reminded me just how privileged I am.

Not only do I not have to worry about my physical safety and security, I also have the privilege of emotional safety.

I have the privilege of being emotionally sensitive. I have the privilege of avoiding or checking out of difficult conversations. I can easily close my ears, my eyes and my heart to the injustices suffered by my fellow humans who are less-privileged, not to mention the injustices suffered by other species and the earth. In fact, it is culturally encouraged that I do so.

I have the privilege of not having to pay attention.

I have the privilege of making myself busy, over-indulging and numbing out.

I have the privilege of not being present to life, and all it beholds.

That I have often exercised this privilege is a hard pill to swallow.

When we who are privileged choose to indulge in the emotional comfort of closing our hearts and going into overdrive with our work, we are literally perpetuating the systems of injustice that are killing less-privileged humans, other species and the earth. No wonder we need so many flashy distractions and substances to numb out our heartbreak.

I’ve been there. I still am to a certain degree.

I’m not standing on a pedestal here. I have further to go in transforming my own inner world before I can say that I am truly in integrity with the kind of world I wish to see (one that serves all life equally).

What I am, is humbled and willing.

My heart is open and I am paying attention.

I have the privilege of apathy. I do not have to care. I do not have to risk anything. 

And that is a privilege I am relinquishing.

From here on out, I commit to prioritizing truth and justice over my own emotional comfort.

Not just in theory, but in practice.

For me, right now, that means paying attention, keeping my heart open even when the heartbreak is strong, risking using my voice even when I might get it wrong, and taking on without apology the work my soul came here to do.

Are you paying attention?

How does your privilege show up for you?

What are you willing to risk in service of the world you wish would be?

Its time to stop wishing.

Xo,

Danielle

Happy Thursday friends!

My partner and I are leaving on a 1-2 month adventure living out of our van, starting Monday. Naturally, there has been a lot to do, and there remains a lot to do, for us to be ready to leave. 

Not surprisingly, my familiar friend, OVERWHELM, showed up this past Sunday. So today I want to share with you a video I made live on Facebook yesterday about how I shifted that energy for myself and how I am creating a more peaceful and fun lead up to our adventure. 

More to come on the adventure itself soon!  

Topics the video will cover include:

• What overwhelm looks like (how it goes for you);

• The consequences of letting overwhelm run the show;

• The destructive interplay between passion and overwhelm; and

• What to do about it (who to be about it).

I invite you to check out the video HERE (or click on the photo below).

xo,

Danielle

Talking About Overwhelm: How It Shows Up and What to Do About It

All I can think about is more joy.

And that, is a big, fat, lie.

My mind has been a great hum.

Millions of voices. Millions of opinions. Millions of things.

Some of them mine. Most of them unnecessary.

We are in the time of the story-tellers.

Each of us with a tale. Beliefs to blast. Opinions to wield in a world grown weary of what is.

As we sit here locked away from each other.

In the solitude of the buzzing online cloud.

“Did he really say that?”

“What does she mean?”

“He must be…” “She is so…” “Why can’t we all…”

“How DARE you even suggest it…”

“I know what’s really going on here. You don’t.”

“I’m right. You’re wrong.”

“$%&# YOU!”

Let me delete you from my life with one press of a finger on this tiny square button.

Ahhh. That’s better.

Easy. Over. Done.

I can’t handle your outrageous delusions. It is simply too much.

My mind is already a great hum.

Millions of truths are screaming at me.

Which one will win?

Will it be the left? Or the right? Or the muddled-up middle?

Am I going way out on a limb here? Or are you?

Will we ever know for sure, beyond the certainty of our own skull?

Might as well shut up. Might as well say what they want us to say. Might as well just put our protective suits on and hunker down until its safe.

On the other hand…why not shake things up? Might as well provoke! A little stirring of a pot that’s already churning. Surely that can’t harm a world that’s literally dying to be woke?

Oh how I laugh to myself.

All alone.

My mischievousness will never be known.

Round and round we go.

And all I can think about is.

More. Joy.

In a world gone mad for lying.

xo,

Danielle

There is a thread of truth that flows within me. It flows through all of us. It flows through all Life.

I call this thread of truth my Soul. That is the truest word I have come across to describe it. It is my North Star. It guides my Life towards peace and fulfillment when I surrender enough to allow it.

My Soul wants nothing more than for me to be all of myself. To share all of myself. To experience Life in all its glory.

My Soul invites me to expand into my own wholeness and to create in service to Life. Listening to my Soul is how I make the contribution that I came here to make.

My thread of truth is mine, but it is also Divine. It is connected to all Souls in a giant unseen web. It is Life itself. Alive in me and in you.

My Soul knows how to guide me to live in a way that benefits the whole. If we each follow our deepest thread of truth, we will create a more beautiful world.

I write this poetically, yet I mean this literally, and I live this - my Soul’s truth - devotedly.

As a lawyer and a double air sign I love facts and rational explanations. I used to make decisions for my life based purely on cognitive reasoning. My life was not mine then. It belonged to the stories our culture teaches us about what it means to be successful, and the rats' nest of beliefs inside my head.

Facts and beliefs are stories we've given weight to because they meet certain measures we've decided indicate truth. They are useful, but they can never hold the whole Truth. And they alone can never be our personal Truth.

When looking for guidance on how to make decisions in my life I now look inward more than outward. Beliefs and understandings gleaned from the world outside of me are useful, and I consider them, but at the end of the day, if I want to know what's best for me, I ask my Soul.

Sometimes, the way forward my Soul invites is one that can be explained rationally based on culturally approved facts and stories, and my mind of course loves when that occurs.

Yet other times my Soul will point me in directions that defy reason. Those are the decisions I most resist. I fear that if I cannot understand it or explain it, I won't be accepted and I won't be safe. I have learned over time that those are usually the decisions that are most important for me to make in alignment with my own truth.

When my Soul leads me down a path that appears irrational - one where I know I will be called naive or stupid - that is when I double down on my faith, and I remember: my Soul's truth may not be convenient, but it will never lead me astray.

If I want peace and fulfillment for myself and others (I do) and if I want to be a part of creating a world that serves Life in all forms (I do), I must learn to listen to the deeper thread of truth with in me that knows the best way for me to serve.

We are all connected. Serving ourselves, serves others, serves the whole.

The way we care for each other and the Earth is by following the thread of truth that flows from deep within our Soul.

xo,

Danielle

This is a poem for the Dreamers
The ones whose hearts hold the world
Eyes so deep and piercing
Even stones turn to pearls

This is a song for the Artists
Arcing joyfully across the sky
Painting over the dreary grey
Reminding us colours can fly

This is a rally call for the Believers
The kind that stirs the Soul
Raising your vibration
Lifting the weight that takes a toll

The ocean lives within you
I see it in your tears
Salty wet and carrying the wisdom
Of thousands of natural years

When the world is crumbling
Creators do not despair
Raise your hands to the heavens
Let love hold you everywhere

Now is your time Magick-Makers
To find your voice and make your art
So say a prayer and stake your ground
Your real work is about to start

The world needs you now Dreamers
To take our hate-filled tales
Centuries old and written in stone
On the cusp of the greatest fail

Hold now our hardened stories
In the alchemy of your heart
Transform them into ancient pearls
A beautiful place for us to start

Sometimes I walk for hours. One foot in front of the other. No destination.

I’m wandering. Wondering. Paying attention.

I’m looking for signs. I’m feeling into the world around me.

I’m hoping for the kind of hope that will keep mine flowing.

Sometimes tears come. Sometimes rage. Sometimes desperation.

I keep walking. One foot in front of the other.

Sometimes I walk through the forest or along the ocean. But those are usually times when I’m looking for peace, not hope. I go to nature when I want to be held; when I’m aching for reprieve from the busyness of the world. Not when I’m looking for hope.

Nature is eternally hopeful and full of magic, but I know I won’t see it when my faith in humanity has left me feeling heartbroken and undeserving.

So, when the darkness of our systems and our consumerism and our greed and our violence and our hate weighs me down and my shadow begins to whisper “there’s no hope” “just give up” “its not worth it”, I tie up my laces and walk right smack in the middle of the city.

When I feel myself reaching the brink of despair, I turn to face the busy streets where concrete reigns and I walk and I walk and I walk until I see the magic that still exists, there.

I walk until I retrieve my lost hope from the place that stole it from me. I demand my hope be restored from the very things that took it from me. In that way I can still believe it exists, here.

Most often, its owls I look for. I’ll walk block after block keeping an eye out. Hoping against hope. Sometimes pleading or bargaining for a sign. Just when I’ve given up, I’ll round a corner, and I’ll see her. Beady eyes staring up at me from a blue and yellow sticker on the corner of a shop window. The “Provident Security” logo. I know its only paper and glue stuck to glass, yet relief floods me. It gives me hope.

In a residential neighbourhood, sometimes I’ll get a streak. A barn owl perched on a wrought iron pole scaring the crows from a garden, a wise horned owl wind-chime, a decorative snow globe housing a snowy owl on a windowsill, a majestic wingspan painted on the side of a brick wall.

I feel the weight lift from my heart. I skip a step. I smile. It helps me to carry on with all of it. I have hope.

It may seem silly to you. My looking for signs. My wandering ways. It may seem absurd, or even insane.

How can a walk in a random neighbourhood and a trinket in a stranger’s yard lift my spirits and help me to keep having faith?

I don’t really know, other than its something I’ve chosen to believe in. Something I allow to make a difference for me. Something that I give my faith to when my faith in everything else has left me.

There’s no magic in it until I believe, and because I do, the magic is there.

I have to believe in something.

We all do.

I choose owls and long walks and writing. And if you took those away, I would choose something else. That is how I maintain my faith when my fear of the human shadow threatens to take over.

Can we trust that love will win? Can we trust that we are going somewhere? Can we trust that we are evolving? Are we really on the brink of a revolution that has the possibility of transforming everything for the better? Is there really a more beautiful world? Will we ever get there?

Is there any reason to have faith that human consciousness and free will are good things?

The curse of being a dreamer by day is darkness sleeps in my bed. The paradox of humanity is not lost on me. The weight of that responsibility may very well bring us to our end.

Yet most days I believe. I see – I FEEL – the deeper thread.

There is wisdom in Life. There is wisdom in Death.

We don’t get to control how this goes, but, moment to moment, we do get a say, and we do get to choose. Will we show up to the conversation a believer, placing one foot in front of the other? Or, will we deny ourselves our own magic, shut the closet door, and simply tell the world we’ve put away our shoes.

The reality is, either way its you who gets to choose, and the consequences of that choice are considerable.

Choose wisely.

Xo,

Danielle

Happy Thursday friends!

Today I want to share a live video I made last Friday wherein I discuss a few topics that are near and dear to my heart:

• Why our systems are failing (all of them - from our ways of creating and relating to ourselves... to the ways in which we relate to each other, other species and the Earth);

• How to create sustainable change (through the lens of how I overcame my eating disorder and how we can apply this process of change to other areas of our life, our systems and world) ; and

• The thing that most often stops us from doing it (hint: its not lack of discipline).

I invite you to check it out HERE (or click on the photo below).

System Failures, Sustainable Change and the Thing that Stops Us

Leave me a comment here or on Facebook! I’d love to hear your thoughts!

xo,

Danielle