You Already Know How to Do This

Eleven years ago today, my husband and I were married in a little chapel overlooking the Hudson in Cold Spring, NY. It was a magnificent day, not a cloud in the sky. I walked down the aisle to my husband playing a song he composed, on the beautiful grand piano. I cried all the way. Not pretty tears, big, uncontrollable sobs. I was not sad, just unprepared for 90 people turning all at once to look at me, focusing their rapt attention in a wave of love so powerful, it nearly knocked me over.

How often do you get to receive that kind of blessing?

As soon as my father handed me to Amir, all the tears stopped and I felt safe.

And then, completely terrified, I sang.

"I'll be with you in apple blossom time." I had chosen it as part of my vows. I did not know if I could do it. I did it anyway, wobbly notes and all.

Our wedding was our first collaboration, and the first time I had an experience of building something from nothing.

I had no idea how to plan a wedding. Not a clue. And yet, I dyed 90 dinner napkins, collected 90 unique plates from antique markets, collaged 90 matchboxes with tiny vintage pictures of Italy. With the help of friends, we transformed our jungle of a backyard in the Bronx into a magical fairyland with hundreds of lights and stenciled the wooden fence behind our yard with huge flowers. My mother designed my bouquet. A friend did my hair, another made the desserts. We created our own ritual, including some pine cones we had gathered from the spot where we got engaged, asking all the guests to stand during the ceremony and call in the four directions with us, taking on an important role as witness to our commitment.

It was a labor of love and the result was truly magical.

In our vows, we promised not to expect perfection, to say yes every time one of us asks for a dance break, and to honor and protect each other's creativity. I did not fully understand then what I was asking for, or what I was offering. Eleven years later, I am still learning what that means, for my marriage, for myself, and for the spaces I tend.

Maybe you are standing at your own threshold.

Maybe you used to express yourself creatively and somewhere along the way you stopped. Not because you chose to. Because you ran out of time, space, permission, energy. Or maybe your kids are getting more independent and a little more space is opening up, and you feel both excited and terrified because you genuinely do not know who you are outside of your current role, but you are ready to find out.

Maybe you have been protecting everyone else's vision for so long that the idea of protecting something of your own feels almost foreign.

My commitment has been to create spaces where you can show up as you are. To move and make without needing to push away the messy parts.

You already know how to do this. A home, a meal that became a tradition, a way of holding your family together through a difficult time. A friendship you have built. A child you have poured yourself into raising. You have built something from nothing before.

And your creativity is worth protecting.

This summer, two things I have been tending are ready to bloom.

On Saturday, June 20th, Women's Wellness Circle returns for the Summer Solstice. A morning to come together, move your body and honor your creativity, marking the turning of the season. Save the date.

And in July, for the first time, I am opening the doors to Mothering the Maker. A program I have been tending to for a while now. I am not quite ready to say everything about it yet. But I wanted you to know it is coming, because it is just for you.

Dates and details soon.