Stories from The River Runs Through
Coffee. Creativity. Ceremony. The land. Becoming.
And the occasional story about something I probably should have known better than to attempt.
There are stories about the things we make, the things we inherit, the things that surprise us, and the things that change us.
Come wander awhile.
It was raining. I went anyway.
Over the last year, being surrounded by trees has led me to explore "tree bathing." I took a course, read the manual, learned about terpenes and how trees communicate, and about the importance of simply being with them.
Somewhere in all of that was the suggestion that I spend a night among the trees.
Technically, this is my backyard.
But our backyard is kind of big.
And there is wildlife.
I liked the idea of a digital detox, artificial-light detox, a night of silence, and a deeper relationship with this land.
I was intrigued.
I was also hesitant.
The hesitation wasn't about running water or using the bathroom outside. We lose power regularly here in Maine. I've adapted.
It was the coyotes.
And, if I'm honest, my limited experience sleeping outside.
The Sound of Remembering
People often ask me about the drums.
Or the rattles.
Or why I hold Moon Gatherings.
Sometimes the question is spoken.
Sometimes it's simply the look on their face.
"Isn't this all a little...different?"
Maybe.
Artist, Interrupted?
I remember the yellow ribbon. It hung beside my picture when I was in second grade. It was my first art award. My piece, In My Backyard, elicited chuckles from my parents.
"Whose backyard is that?" they both asked, looking at the 11x14 sheet of red construction paper with black cut-outs of people and a swing set.
"Isn't that ours?" I remember thinking, though I never said it out loud.
Suffice it to say, it was my version of my backyard.
In sixth grade, I created my first acrylic painting. I used little glass jars of paint on a bumpy 4x6 sheet of paper that came with the kit. I painted poinsettias, and my teacher submitted it to the city's art competition—open to every student from Kindergarten through twelfth grade in Medford, Massachusetts. I was named Artist of the Month. My parents were confused. You see, I wasn't supposed to be an artist.
How Ceremony Found Me
I did, sort of, become a wedding officiant accidentally.
Although maybe it's more accurate to say I had a dream and decided, why wait?
The truth is, ceremony found me long before I ever signed the paperwork.
I've always been drawn to ceremony and ritual. They are a big part of what kept me tethered to church long after I'd decided the book of stories was, well... mostly a book of stories.
But I loved what happened around those stories.
I think I first discovered the power of ceremony while preparing for my own First Communion. It wasn't just about wearing a white dress or standing in church. I had a speech to memorize. I learned how to say the Mass. I practiced reading in front of others—skills that felt incredibly important at the time and ones I would rarely ever use again.
Although, looking back, life has a funny way of preparing us for things we don't yet understand.
More than anything, I remember the feeling.
I remember knowing this wasn't just another Sunday. Something important was happening. A moment was being marked. My family would gather. I would step into something new.
It was my first experience of ceremony—the first time I understood that some moments deserve to be witnessed.
When You're Going Through It
Rob has a definition for comedy:
Pain plus time.
Honestly, I find that almost as funny as the pain itself.
In time.
We all have those stories. Those moments that were absolutely, unequivocally not funny while they were happening.
Women, do we not all have a period story? And does it not almost always involve wearing white?
My only saving grace with my most embarrassing period story was that I was wearing black.
Trust me. It was still bad.
How Hard Could It Be?
With our first Moon Gathering happening tomorrow and my first campout—all by myself—tonight, I thought this morning, I'll take the day off.
No baking. No inventory. No setting up online shopping. No linking a new POS system. You know, the things one does when opening a Farmhouse Store & Coffee Shop in a renovated milk shed.
I really like the saying—although it might actually be a proverb—“You make plans and God laughs.”
Wow, was that ever true today.
What Gets Lost in Translation?
I remember reading that, in the 1970s, mainstream doctors were hesitant to use the word meditation. They worried that if they did, both they and the practice would be dismissed as “woo-woo.”
I rolled my eyes.
Even twenty years ago, meditation and yoga were still making their way into the mainstream. And most people didn’t believe you could make a living doing“woo-woo”.
Now, many of those same mind-body practices are evidence-based.
Go figure.
I find myself in a similar place now.
Although, to be fair, I am not rolling my eyes.
At least not outwardly.
What Is It With Lawns?
It's not that I don't appreciate a well-manicured lawn.
There is something lovely about a wide expanse of green grass that feels soft and cushy under your feet. In the spring, dandelions can create an impressive sea of yellow—although I know many people respond to this natural phenomenon with considerably less enthusiasm.
The dandelions, apparently, are winning.
As Kitty and I were outside today, I was pulling weeds—or, more accurately, pulling grass—from one of the garden rows we planted this summer. I noticed leaves, dried branches, and various other things scattered through the row.
Including a hose.
It Looks Like It's Happening...
The River Runs Through's first Moon Gathering.
Of course, I shouldn't get ahead of myself. There's interest—granted, not the same interest as a Coldplay concert. 😊 But interest...and not just from our family members!
Clearly, there is something about getting together.
And getting together to give a little time and attention to observing the ebb and flow of the moon.
I remember the first time I truly observed the moon. Not that I hadn't seen it before (and, of course, believed it was following me everywhere—I'm still not entirely convinced it wasn't.), or noticed how bright it could be. But it wasn't until my first year of college that I really paid attention. One of our assignments was to track the moon through all of its phases. It was the first time I realized the moon shows up in the morning—and even in the afternoon. It was also when I first heard the words waxing and waning. I was captivated.
The Invitations We Don't Always Recognize
Yesterday, I invited someone into my office.
That may sound ordinary, except my office is a few steps away from our coffee shop, which is a few steps away from our home. Every so often, I look around and think, "This is a little unusual."
A therapy office next to a coffee shop? A farmhouse store surrounded by fields, woods, and a river? A place where someone might come for coffee, conversation, a workshop, a walk, or simply to sit?
And then I remember—maybe it isn't unusual at all.
Hummingbird
I was reminded of Hummingbird today.
A lovely woman came by with a man who has become a regular here at the coffee shop. We love seeing him enjoying the space, coffee in hand, just being here. She shared some of her experiences with Shamanism, including an immersive trip to Greece, and somewhere in the conversation she mentioned Hummingbird.
"For me," she said, "Hummingbird represents joy."
I smiled.
Here We Are
Yesterday was busy.
And, to be honest, stopping and noticing was only momentary. Still, I did it. I stopped. I looked around. I reflected in that moment, and thought...
Here we are.
It's funny how we spend so much of our lives working toward something, wondering if we'll ever get there, and then one day we look up and realize...
Here we are.
How the River Taught Me to Listen
There was a lot of baking today. Or perhaps more accurately, there was a lot of creating pieces that will eventually become something whole. Mixing dry ingredients. Preparing fillings. Letting dough rest. None of it looked like the finished product, yet every piece mattered.
It reminded me that life has unfolded much the same way.
Before I understood psychology, before I understood trauma, before I understood healing, I was simply a little girl who paid attention.
Moon Circle Gatherings
What if, once each month, we simply paused?
Paused long enough to notice the moon overhead, the changing seasons around us, and what is quietly changing within us.
Moon Circle is a monthly gathering to reconnect—with ourselves, one another, and the natural world. Together we'll reflect, meditate, create, share (if you choose), and honor the rhythms that have guided humanity for thousands of years.
The First Truly Magical Day
We've had good days at The River Runs Through.
We've had surprising days. Rainy days. "What were we thinking?" days.
Today was different.
Today was the first day that felt...magical.
Ironically, it began with our bathroom.
A New Aura Spray Has Been Born
A new Aura Spray has been born.
If you're wondering, "What exactly is an Aura Spray?" don't worry—you've joined the club.
Before I stepped into the world of shamanism, I'd never even heard of one. Smudging? Sure. Burning herbs and smoke, I understood. But a spray?
Then someone mentioned Florida Water.
That didn't help at all.
New Offering: Shamanic Land Healing & Blessing
One of the things I've learned through studying shamanism is that relationship matters.
Not just our relationship with ourselves and other people, but our relationship with the land.
Most of us intuitively know this.
We can walk onto a piece of property and immediately feel at home. We can also arrive somewhere and sense that something feels unsettled, depleted, or somehow "off," even if we can't explain why.
Just as people experience periods of disruption, loss, trauma, transition, and renewal, so too can the land.
A property may have experienced development, environmental disturbance, neglect, conflict, or significant change. Sometimes the effects are visible. Sometimes they aren't. Yet many people report feeling them nonetheless.
Because of this, I am excited to begin offering Shamanic Land Healing & Blessing through The River Runs Through.
Honoring the New Moon — A Ritual for Reflection, Intention & Renewal
The New Moon is upon us. Saturday night when you look to the sky there will be darkness. There is something sacred about the dark sky of a new moon.
Unlike the brightness of the full moon, the new moon invites stillness. It is the quiet beginning. A pause. A reset. A moment to return inward before the next cycle of growth begins.
For centuries, cultures around the world have honored lunar cycles as a way of reconnecting to nature, intuition, and the rhythms of life itself. The new moon, in particular, represents rebirth, possibility, and intention. It is the fertile soil before the seed breaks open.
In a world that constantly asks us to move faster, produce more, and stay outwardly focused, honoring the new moon offers something radically healing: space to listen.
How Is It Possible to Feel Better After Only 6–12 Sessions of The Threshold Process?
One of the most common questions people ask about The Threshold Process is:
“How can something shift so deeply in only 6–12 sessions?”
Especially in a culture where healing is often seen as long, endless, or dependent on years of processing, the idea of meaningful transformation in a relatively short period of time can feel surprising.
But healing is not always about the amount of time spent.
Often, it’s about the depth of presence, intention, safety, and embodiment within that time.
The Threshold Process was created to be focused, intentional, and transformational — not something designed to keep you dependent on the process indefinitely.
Healing Happens When We Feel Safe Enough to Change
Many people are not struggling because they “don’t know enough” about themselves. Often, they already understand their patterns intellectually.
The Threshold Process works on multiple levels at once — mind, body, nervous system, energy, and spirit. Because of this integrative approach, shifts can happen more quickly than talk therapy alone.
Rather than endlessly analyzing the wound, the work focuses on creating conditions where transformation can actually occur.
Why the Threshold Process Is Both Similar To — and Different From — Traditional Talk Therapy
There comes a moment in many healing journeys when insight is no longer enough.
You understand why you feel anxious, disconnected, exhausted, reactive, numb, or stuck — and yet your body still carries the weight of it.
This is often where traditional talk therapy reaches its edge, and where deeper embodied work begins.
The Threshold Process was created for that threshold: the space between understanding your wounds and truly transforming them.