On Speaking Up.

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Lyndsey was the “best friend I never met” until we shared a random cup of coffee in a random diner because of a random flight cancellation that landed her, quite literally, in Chicago and cemented her as the real deal, real talk, speed dial necessary presence in my life. We both recently went through big changes professionally and as we are approaching the end of that intense season, she said to me “We really did shove each other into the fire, didn’t we?”.

Yes, yes we did. And thank God for people who won’t let you tolerate things in your life that have the potential to harm your soul, to dim your light, to change your voice. I am so grateful for my tribe, for my people who shoved me into the fire the last few months and the years and years before that.

Below is an excerpt from a blog post Lyndsey wrote yesterday after speaking up in a training for her new job. We all know that moment- biting our tongues, knowing that what we are hearing is searing a hole on our insides and weighing whether or not it’s “worth it” to speak up.

I am not quiet for all of the women who are.

Women close to me, who’s secrets scare them into thinking no one could ever love them. Who’s true desire would mean, life could fall apart, not believing that falling apart is the one way to truly build again.

I am not quiet for all the women who have given me their full hearts, and the journal entries, both literally, and in confessions when I hold their hand, things they’ve never told anyone…cause what if someone knew.

And my question back is.

What if someone knew.

I say it right back to them. Do you see the difference? Say it to yourself again, like this.


What if someone knew?


My life, has become worth living, because people now know. And they love me in spite of, because of, and without condition.

I am not quiet, for her, and her, and the generations before me that were. Who did stay quiet, not because they did not have a truth to tell, but because the world is no place for the truth. So lets leave it alone, shall we. Lets say that we are fine. Lets never ever share over candles, and standing in kitchens, and driving with the windows down…what we truly desire.

Speak up. Please.


You can read the entire post here. And then speak up. Tonight, tomorrow, forever. Because it is worth it. Always and always.

Thank you, Lyndsey for your words and your truth and your difficulty staying quiet about the things you believe in the most.


The Invitation

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It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

– Oriah Mountain Dreamer