Finding Where Love Lives

Last week, I was hosting an event
and someone asked me if I could describe my Self in one word.
Without thought, I heard myself say,
“I am love.”

The words slipped out before my mouth had time to catch it,
or my ego could judge it, or my mind could edit it.

We both kindof stood there in stunned silence, until I smiled and shrugged.
And he just nodded and said, “Wow. Yeah. We need more of that.”
I was surprised by my response in the moment.
But what surprised me more was how it landed.

Love.

It has the power to silence a room.
To still an anxious heart.
To soften shoulders that have carried way too much for way too long.
It has a way of inviting people in.

It reminds me of that Mr. Rogers quote that we heard so often after 911 and during the early days of COVID, “Look for the helpers.” These days, I am chronically reminding myself to look for the love.

I have really been thinking about love lately and what it means to live from a place of love in a world that feels so unsteady. Where does love even live these days? 

I know where it doesn’t live.

Right now the world is loud.

There’s a kind of exhaustion settling in that isn’t just physical.
It’s the exhaustion of holding too much information. Too much outrage. Too much grief that doesn’t even belong solely to us. It’s the heartbreak of watching what’s unfolding in the world and not quite knowing where to put the anger, or the fear, or the sadness.
There are people in places who are positioned to fight certain battles.
And then there are the rest of us, sitting at kitchen tables and in carpools and at desks, feeling all of it move through our bodies with no clear outlet.

It all feels so heavy.
Many are collapsing under the weight of it all.

And, at the same time, something else is happening.
It’s like pockets of light are forming.
People are gathering in spaces and having conversations that are healing and freeing.
And they feel like love.

They’re saying, No more.

They’ve decided they are simply not going to live inside the fear narrative anymore.
They know that there has to be another way.

What if that way is love?

I know that sounds too simple.
Love is such a small word for such a big moment.
But the more I sit with it, the more I realize how much we’ve overcomplicated nearly everything. I see it in my own life. Maybe we have overcomplicated things so much that we have lost the point of the life we’re living.

And maybe it’s calling us to get back to basics, to get back to the single most simple thing: LOVE.
Getting back to loving ourselves, loving each other, loving the planet…Right?

I know it’s not that simple. Or is it?
When we think about love, we tend to focus on the highest expressions of it: joy, connection, happiness… Those kinds of loving feelings.
But there is a shadow side to everything.
If you trace almost any heavy emotion back far enough, you find love underneath it:

Grief is love that no longer has a physical place to land.
Anger is love that has been hurt.
Betrayal is love that was dishonored, mishandled, or maipulated.
The deep ache of not belonging is love that was never acknowledged.
And fear… that is love that was afraid to be fully seen.

There is a higher expression and a lower expression to every emotion, but they all circle back to the same origin point: Love.

So, what if… love is the undercurrent that flows underneath of everything in our lives?

If that’s true, then that means we also have access to love.
If we are willing to choose it.  

Now, before I go any further, I want to acknowledge that there are some who are so deeply impacted in their daily lives by what is happening in our world that they do not have the privilege of choice right now.

For those of us who do have the option to choose, I keep noticing something.
Every time I feed the anger, the world feels heavier.
Every time I let that deeper layer of love underneath the anger guide me, something shifts.
And when I consciously add love — in small, ordinary ways — the whole texture of my day changes.

If you have the option to choose, why not choose love?

So where do we find it? How do we access it? Where DOES love live?

Those of you who know me know that I research everything.
I fall down rabbit holes for fun. I have to experience everything firsthand.
Most days, my brain is a very happy playground.

And this week, I have been “playing” with Love. Capital L Love.
(AKA: Universal Love, God, Source, All that is. Yeah, the big guy.)

I wanted to see if I could channel messages directly from Source. (Um…Yeah. Turns out I can.)
I started with my higher self, and I wanted to see how high I could go. I have connected with source energy before and received messages, but I have never verbally channeled them.
It is totally different. I nearly blew out my circuitry accessing that high a frequency, but I asked the question, “Where does love live and how do we access it?”

What came through was almost laughably simple: Love is alive in you. (Like, actually.)

Seriously…It can be difficult to find unless you are looking for it, and I know our human bodies did not come with a manual, but the connection point is in you.
We just have to remember how to access it.
It literally lives at the base of your physical heart, tucked in at the back.
(Take a moment to take that deep breath into your chest. That place where you feel that little tug… right there. That is the place where love lives.)

And we get to fill it with feelings of joy and gratitude and excitement and the love that we feel for our kids, for our pets, for nature… with whatever brings effervescence and lightness bubbling up in your heart, and a genuine smile to your face.

The connection point has always been there. We just have to activate it.

Hang on…

Total geek out moment incoming:
That little place at the top of the heart I was talking about… that’s the place that stores memories as impressions of feelings!

So that means it’s not just an on/off switch.
It’s a dimmer, and you get to control the darkness and the light.

Whaaat…? I know this sounds like some deep woo-woo stuff.
This is a very spiritual connection, and it is also a physiological one. 

Our brains are wired to look for what we tell them is important.
And we tell our brain what matters with our feelings.
(Oh, and by the way, it doesn’t know the difference between what we consider positive and negative feelings, and it doesn’t care.) There is this little filter in your brain, called the reticular activating system, that decides what rises to your awareness and what fades into the background. If you put your focus or energy into something –positive or negative– your brain will start seeking it out everywhere. 

So if we’re saturating it with outrage, it will hand us more outrage.
If we start feeding it more love… what might it hand us then?

And that part doesn’t have to be complicated. Maybe it looks like stepping outside and actually touching trees and hearing the wind, or choosing music that moves you and singing out loud, or letting yourself laugh until you pee.

And maybe it looks like remembering that you are allowed to feel joy even when the world is complicated. And maybe that’s exactly what we all need more of right now.

I don’t know about you, but I would rather be intentional about what I feed my brain, because I don’t want it deciding for me. 

I get to choose.

Wait… So, what if we actually do have a choice about how our brain sees our life?
What if when the collective feels saturated with fear and anger, the most radical thing we could do is focus inward and choose love instead of amplifying the noise?
What if we mattered so much that each personal experience could add to love’s positive expression in the world?

It is a one-energy year afterall, and the Fire Horse is nearly here.
And maybe this is what self-leadership and freedom actually looks like.
We can’t control the world. But we get to choose the frequency we live from inside it.

That’s where love lives.

A New Year & A New Rhythm: Rooted Riffs Begins

Welcome.
I’m really glad you’re here.

This is the very first Rooted Riff, and it’s a really special space.

Rooted Riffs is a place I’ve created very intentionally for me (and for you) for real-time reflection. It’s a place where I get to be curious and think out loud. To explore what’s moving—energetically, emotionally, practically—and how it actually integrates into real life. I am not here for spirituality that lives only in the ethers or insights that stay stuck in my mind or in my journal. And I want to let you in so I can explore with you, connect, and geek out together.

What I share here isn’t content dictated by algorithms or trends or “what you’re supposed to say.”
It’ll be filled with things that I’m actually thinking about and “downloading,” and inspiration that I’m receiving while I’m driving, or in the shower, or out on long walks with my doggos. It’s a space I’m creating so I can show up as myself—fully, authentically, and in rhythm with my own life—and I’m inviting you into that process with me because… it feels really good. (And my inner 5-year-old thinks it’s super-fun. More on her in another post!)

I plan to share roughly every two weeks, and I would love to create some conversation around the riffs.
I’m not exactly sure what that looks like yet, but I can’t wait to see it evolve.

So, a little context for why this space is coming online now…

I’ve been a bit quieter at the start of this year—and that’s been intentional.
It wasn’t that I didn’t have things to say, but I was clearing the noise, tuning in, and I was doing more listening than talking. When I got quiet, it was amazing what I could hear, and I started attuning to my body—my rhythms and what actually feels nourishing instead of obligatory. (This idea for Rooted Riffs dropped in in that space.)

This is a one-energy year, and for me, that has meant stepping into my personal authority in a very real, lived way that is self-honoring. And that means choosing myself first—and as a priority, as a daily practice. That is the kind of self-leadership we are being called into. And I’ve never been interested in teaching things I’m not actively living.

So I slowed down.

I stopped trying to keep pace with hustle rhythms and external expectations, and I started paying attention to my own, very practical, very human things:
• What does my natural sleep cycle actually look like?
• How much water does my body really need?
• Do those supplements truly support me and my intentions?
• What kind of movement feels supportive right now—not what I should be doing, but what is my body asking for?
• What’s mine and what isn’t mine to carry? (This is a big one.)
• What genuinely feels nourishing and expansive in my body? I am done with contracting.

And honestly? It’s felt a bit like a detox. A shedding of old habits, expectations, thoughts, foods, rooms. Recalibrating hasn’t always been linear—it’s sometimes meant briefly reconnecting with past “things,” only to feel, viscerally in my body, that they’re no longer for me. That clarity hasn’t come from thinking it through. It’s come from paying attention to how my body actually responds.

Some of the changes have been surprisingly practical.

Morning coffee is now a weird no (who even am I?), but a mid-day cup of Everyday Dose is the perfect pick-me-up.
My natural sleep cycle starts later than it ever did—even later than when I was a teenager.
I’m still always moving—hiking, walking the dogs, hopping on the elliptical—but my body now craves movement that’s less linear and more fluid like dance, qigong, play.

Others have been harder to untangle from. When something registers as a “problem” in my system, I’ve learned to pause—instead of reacting immediately— to decide whether it’s actually my problem (and something I need to deal with in the moment) or whether it belongs to someone else. I’m retraining my self to not pick up what doesn’t belong to me. And it’s so freeing.

What surprised me the most, though, is how much easier it feels to process things verbally right now.
Which is funny, because I’m an author and spent years teaching writing. But this season is calling for more truth, and that truth moves through the throat. I’ve discovered that writing can tighten my flow when that shadow-y perfectionism sneaks in. When I speak, I flow, and my authentic, unfiltered energy stays intact. And I’ve learned I can get so much more done in much less time when I speak it into being.

So I’ve been building structures that support that reality instead of fighting it. Systems that honor the way my brain works, keep me both focused and fluid, and allow me to stay consistent without pressure or shame. I even created a custom GPT workflow to help keep me… well… ME, and capture my verbal flow in real time—because I’m done forcing myself into containers that don’t actually fit.

I’m committing to something that feels essential right now: less noise.

I’m honoring my temple— mind•body•spirit.
What it needs. What fuels it.

Saying no to the things that are not mine—habits, emotions, systems.
Letting go of energy leaks.

I’m saying yes to lighter, easy, natural, fun.
Choosing real connection, and what’s genuinely nourishing and generative.
And giving from overflow, not depletion.
And it feels amazing.

I’m committed to creating abundance through simplicity. Through ease. Through aligned, obvious movement.

And I’m noticing these shifts aren’t just personal.

So many nervous systems are tired of holding it all. Last year felt like a stress test—for everyone. We are all emotionally, mentally, physically, energetically exhausted. And there’s a quiet readiness now. One that craves peace, regulation, connection, and something that can actually be lived.

That’s what Rooted Riffs is for.

This space will move in a two-week rhythm. Each riff will reflect what’s alive for me in real time—energetics, insights, curiosities, integrations—as I’m actually living them. Not polished. Not teaching. Just a sneak-peek into the things I actually think about, in real life, shared as is.

This year is already different. I feel it inside of me. I’m committed to sustainable magic. To presence over push. To flow over force. To playing back with the universe instead of smiling at the synchronicities and rushing past them.

And I’m committed to sharing that journey—openly, honestly, and in a way that’s relatable and rooted in real life.

Because if we don’t share what we’re exploring and use to actually make our lives better—more spacious, more grounded, more alive, more connected—what’s the point?