an ode to girlfriends everywhere

girlfriend, i adore you. like, insanely, madly, infinitely, priceless diamond, cosmic shiny adore you. it’s crazy how much i adore you.

you told me to dump the chump.

i cut my bangs way too short before a job interview. you told me to wear a low cut blouse to distract from the nasty haircut. i got the job.

you’re happy for me. always.

you remember. everything. you’re the encyclopedia of…me.

you made the appointment for me. you waited in the car. we drove home in silence.

you make sure my burritos come with an extra side of sour cream, and you order pizzas with mushrooms only on half.

you took me to the coast when i needed it most.

when i thought the pain would kill me, you reminded me that i wouldn’t die of a broken heart.

you told that bastard to fuck off so that i didn’t have to.

you drove the moving van. in your first trimester. while barfing at truck stops. you never once complained.

you very gently suggested that maybe one pair of shoulder pads was sufficient.

you called in sick for me when really, I was partying on the band’s bus headed for Buffalo.

you didn’t make me wear taffeta to your wedding.

you lent me $200 bucks that made all the difference between rent and groceries that month. you tucked it into my purse when i wasn’t looking to save me the humiliation.

you held my hand when i got my tattoos, and my wisdom teeth out, and my first really expensive pair of shoes.

you babysat so that i could be with my mother when she was dying.

you dared me and then said: if you don’t trust you, trust me.

my baby was two days old. you came over and scrubbed my kitchen floor, made a lemon loaf, and rocked the baby so that i could take a nap, but i didn’t sleep. instead, you and i just stared at the baby on the bed, together.

you bring me trashy magazines and don’t judge me for loving them.

you coax me out of my own brain. make me stop working and have fun. and you have no idea what I do for a living.

you are how i know god is real.

you are my heart honey. my harbor. my metric of faith. my fresh water source. my soul sherpa.

girlfriend, i could not, would not do this without you.

not ever.

you, girlfriend. you.



related posts

What’s underneath wishful thinking?

Wishful thinking is tangled up with craving. We want what we want. So we ignore the evidence that we’re very likely not going to get what we want out of a situation. Craving… wishing. Craving… denial. Craving… tolerating. It’s a wishous cycle.


Don’t worry about being invited back. My Manifesto for Creativity.

Meaningfulness. Reveal myself. Be compassionate. Don’t worry about being invited back. Go there. xo. I jotted this down when I began writing my book. I wanted a manifesto and it had to happen quickly because…I had a book to write.


Life is what happens on the way to the finish line.

If you’re not loving what it feels like between your various life destinations, then get off the ride. Burn the itinerary. Fuck “motivation” and be still long enough to find your inspiration.


Let the Love in. Because, “It’s an honour to help you.”

I was in a spiritual tizzy — that’s an esoteric term for 80% emotions-running-wild, and 20% having faith that everything will work out. I can’t remember what it was over (probably divorce papers, or a publishing contract, or buying a house. But it involved documents and beaucoup emotion.)


What to do after you have a breakthrough. (You’re going to shrink after you expand, so, listen closely.)

Threshold, crossed. You got there. After the grinding, the repetitive strain, the cord-cutting, the screams of release, the bliss of relief — the training paid off. Muscle burn got you across the finish line. Soul fire resurrected you. BREAKTHROUGH.


Why jerks show up in your life.

We attract jerks to burn karma — old agreements to be broken in current time, vows to be rescinded, slates to be wiped clean. We attract jerks for contrast — jerks show us what deception and manipulation feels like. They show us how we DON’T want to feel — which is excellent intel for knowing how we DO want to feel.

Featured @2x 456x456 (20)

The epidemic of the brittle woman and the salvation of softness

You know her. Maybe you are her. Or you were. Sisters, please don’t become her. Sisters (and brothers), let’s heal her. She’s giving up on love and life. Sometime, as a result of having to try too hard to get her very essential Soul needs met she… just… got… worn…down. She had no choice but to stiffen. Then she realized that she had a choice.

Featured @2x 456x456 (19)

5 pointers for developing freedom-based creativity & work habits. Which is to say, you’ve got to dissolve guilt and rock your own rhythm.

A note on CREATIVE FLOW…. I’m “working” today. Wasn’t planning on it. It’s a sunny, gorgeous Vancouver Sunday. But since my kid is running around the block with his neighbour buddies, I’m using this time to write, respond, vision.

456x456-Are you hanging by a thread?

Are you hanging by a thread?

It’s hard. It’s wrenching. It’s incredibly painful and it’s difficult to feel lightness. Or to see clearly. Hanging by a thread can be really disorienting. What you’re going through undeniably sucks. It may be hard to believe right now, but not only will it be okay, not only will you get through and over this, you will thrive again…

456x456-in praise of women- magnificent, spacious, fiery witnesses

in praise of women: magnificent, spacious, fiery witnesses

I often hear “women are our own worst enemies” in terms of our culture. I’m tired of that argument. I think everyone is their own worst enemy, and I don’t think it’s about something women have specifically against each other.

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This