I listen to people’s stories for a living.

Today, I’d like to share mine.

Growing up, I had several dreams. I have spent a lifetime following them.

  • I dreamed of becoming a singer who wrote her own songs

  • I dreamed of writing a book…or many

  • I dreamed of living in a small community where everybody knew everybody

Porch swings and general stores. Old geezers telling tales and kids playing in the street.

Close-knit community. I craved it.


Truth is, I grew up in the sprawling suburb of San Jose, CA in the 1970s and 80s. Big, wide streets. A high school graduating class of 500. Big and, for the most part, impersonal.


At school, I kept my head down, didn’t look people in the eye. There were just too many of them!


At home, I watched the neighbors lives through our big bay window at the front of the house, or I rode my bike through the streets.


I kept my stories and my songs in my head.


What I didn’t appreciate at the time was that my very ability to stay invisible, to lurk as it were, to listen to hovering conversations and observe tiny idiosyncrasies would turn me into a writer.


The Twenties


When I started college, I wasn’t ready to embrace my musical dream as a profession, so I jumped at the chance to major in writing.


I also hosted my own show on the college radio station, listened to lots of new music, and by osmosis, studied songwriting.


When I graduated, I was burned out from all the college essays.


I stopped writing.


I found myself in Sacramento waiting tables where I met my husband. We then moved to San Francisco where I worked for a holistic M.D. who introduced me to yoga.


What I didn’t realize at the time was that
my very life was becoming my story.

On my birthday in December 1994, I became pregnant with my son.

Soon after he was born my husband got a job in Sacramento. I was back in the suburbs again. And I was miserable (except for that adorable person above).


The Songwriting Years


It wasn’t long after the move that we lost my mother’s best friend, a joyful artist who lived without apology. Her memorial service made me reassess everything about my own life.


I decided I couldn’t let my young son grow up
with a mother who didn’t follow her dreams.


It was time, time for me to sing and write songs.


At age 30, I had picked up a guitar and started learning how to play. Six months later, I did my first Open Mic.


By 2004, I had become a part of the local music community and released my first and only solo CD no horses to local critical acclaim (this is a pretty cool article right here). I was “on my way” or so it seemed.

By this time, my son was 10. I was really starting to like the kid.


I had also gotten it in my head that it was selfish
to choose my dreams over my family.


So, I got a job in communications and enrollment at my son’s school. For the next 9 years, I gained invaluable experience working in community and writing and editing the newsletters, press releases, and website content.


I would sing now and then at the school festivals, but for the most part, the music and creative writing had gone into hibernation.


For a while there, I didn’t trust myself to embrace my life’s purpose – to be a creator, a writer, a singer. A teacher.


And then it all came together


I never knew that teaching  would be the key to finding peace and purpose in my life.


As my son was getting closer to graduating high school, I did two things that ended up establishing the creative community I had always craved.


I trained to become an Amherst Writers and Artists writing facilitator.


And I became a yoga teacher.


Teaching yoga had not been a childhood dream, but it had become a lifeline to my deepest self. I wanted to share it.


Yoga opened my heart so that I could begin writing again:

  • I started writing poetry, prose, and my blog!

  • I am currently writing my second novel

  • I have interviewed over 50 women for a nonfiction project (link)


Yoga healed me so that I could become a teacher.


My life experience, my training, and my intuitive nature uniquely qualify me to create a container for you to discover your own voice and your own story. And, perhaps, to rediscover your dreams.


How do I do this? By listening to your story. By prompting you to tell it.


How can we work together?


Talk to Me:  Be part of my 101 Core Conversations project. SIGN-UP for our 30-minute talk.

Several women have reported that speaking their story out loud has inspired them to go deeper into that story…and to value it.


Write with Me:  Sign-up to join Word Gathering, my weekly writing community. SIGN-UP to write Tuesday evenings in Fair Oaks and/or Wednesday mornings in Sacramento.


Commit:  My newest offering, The Writer’s Accomplice, gives you accountability for your story. If you believe that dedicating time to your writing is a crime, click here!


If you have questions about any of these offerings, send me an email. Let’s talk about your dreams!

Yours in truth,


My Story: How I Followed My Dreams (and you can, too)
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