This week, the wind had opinions.  Not just your casual breeze-through-the-trees type… no…  this wind was dramatic.  A full-body exhale from the universe.  It rattled the cover on the coop, flipped a bucket across the yard, upended the trellis, and left me standing in the garden like some accidental oracle, squinting at the sky, wondering what kind of message I was supposed to be decoding! 🤷🏻‍♀️

The chickens didn’t care.  Morticia gave me the side-eye and went back to scratching the dirt like always.  But me?  I felt it.  The whisper.  The warning.  The shift.

I’ve come to think of the wind like an old friend who’s just a little too into astrology.  It doesn’t always make sense, but when it shows up loud and persistent, you listen.  This week, it was howling in all directions, stirring up old seeds I forgot I’d planted.  Thoughts I buried with good intentions.  Feelings I mulched under because I didn’t have time to deal with them.

Gardens are honest.  They don’t care what you meant to water.  Either you did, or you didn’t.  Emotions are the same way.  The wind doesn’t lie.  It just points out what’s already shifting inside.

At one point, a gust knocked my shovel over, startling me right out of a deep train of thought.  I laughed, because honestly?  That wind was right!  I was spiraling into old stories again, ones that didn’t need tending anymore.  They’d gone to seed.  The wind gave them one last puff, and off they scattered.

I think that’s what this week was about: letting go of the stale, the stuck, the stories that no longer root well in my soul’s soil.  The wind may seem chaotic, but sometimes it’s just doing a little energetic weeding on our behalf.

So if you felt a little off this week… if your thoughts were gusty and your emotions swirled like leaves in a dust devil, you weren’t alone.  That was just the wind, reminding us we’re not statues in a still life.  We’re living things in a living world.  And sometimes, before we can bloom, we have to bend a little.

There’s a moment, right after the spilled coffee, just before the overdue bill, and somewhere between “I forgot to thaw dinner” and “why is the dog licking the wall”, where it happens…

She arrives.

Your evil twin.

Not evil in a villainous way (she’s not plotting world domination).  No, she’s more chaotic neutral.  She forgets her affirmations, rolls her eyes at gratitude practices, and suddenly can’t remember why she walked into the room.  She’s impatient, short-tempered, sarcastic, and dangerously close to downloading another self-help app just to delete it again.

And if we’re being honest… she’s also us.

Stress doesn’t create our evil twin.   It reveals her.  She’s the version of us that hasn’t had her needs met, sleep, nourishment, connection, a solid cry in the car.  She’s not here to ruin our lives, she’s waving a red flag, screaming, “Something’s not right!”

So how do we deal with her?

Not by shaming her.  Not by pretending she doesn’t exist.  Instead, by recognizing her, and then making space for recovery.

When we treat ourselves like the villain during stressful times, we’re missing the plot.  The evil twin isn’t our enemy.  She’s our warning signal.  A living, breathing “check engine” light with mascara smudges and a short fuse!

Let’s look at this honestly, with a little humor, because sometimes that’s the only thing standing between you and a grocery store meltdown, am I right?! 🤷🏻‍♀️

—

YOU vs. YOUR STRESS TWIN

A totally scientific, not-at-all chaotic comparison chart (also see illustration above)

Grounded You / Stress Twin You

Remembers to breathe / Forgets how lungs work
Meal preps with quinoa / Eats 7 cheese sticks over the sink
Uses kind words / Mutters insults at the printer
Responds with curiosity / Reacts like a dragon guarding treasure
Embraces imperfections / Thinks missing socks = personal failure
Practices gratitude / Gives the side-eye to inspirational quotes
Asks for help / Hisses like a cat when offered support

—

Reclaiming the Wheel

We don’t get to banish our stress twin, but we can befriend her.  We can slow down, hydrate, nourish, unplug, and say, “Thanks for showing me I need a break.”

And when she shows up again (because she will), maybe we greet her with a hug and a snack instead of shame and silence.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we don’t need to be perfect to be powerful.  We just need to notice when we’ve switched into survival mode… and then gently guide ourselves back home.

You ever agree to do something bold and brave… and then immediately wonder what demon possessed you to say yes in the first place?

Yeah.  That’s me right now, packing my bag and my nerves to head to South Dakota for a speaking gig.  Public speaking, they say, is scarier than death for most people.  And today, I believe them.

But here’s the thing, I’m still going.

Not because I’m not scared.  I’m terrified.  I’m sweaty-palmed, heart-racing, second-guessing-my-entire-outfit scared.

I’m going because I’ve finally learned that courage doesn’t mean the fear is gone.  It means the mission is bigger than the fear.

And this mission?  Helping others grow food, find themselves, and live a little more like their great-grandma told them to?  That’s a mission I’ll shake through.  That’s a mission I’ll stand up for, even if my voice cracks and I forget my notes and need to breathe into a paper bag behind the curtain.

Here’s what I remind myself (and maybe you need to hear it too):

You don’t have to be perfect to be powerful.  Some of the most memorable talks come from people who were real, not rehearsed.

The nerves mean you care.  And that care is exactly what makes your words land.

You can be scared and still spectacular.  Fear doesn’t cancel out your magic.


So if you’re staring down something big, something brave, something that makes your stomach flip?  Good!  That means you’re alive.  That means you’re stretching.  That means you’re becoming.

Wish me luck!  I’ll be the one with the quivering hands, the oversized thermos of protein coffee, and the wildly passionate heart that refuses to shrink back.

Now it’s your turn!  What’s the “South Dakota” in your life right now?  What’s the scary thing you said yes to, and how are you showing up for it anyway?

Let’s be brave… together! 🥰

You ever feel like you’re living the same day on repeat?  Wake up.  Hit snooze.  Drink the same coffee from the same mug.  Say “I’m fine” to the same question from someone who probably isn’t listening.  Do laundry (or not).  Again.  Water the aloe plant you forgot existed.  Again.  Think deep thoughts in the shower and then forget them by the time you’re towel-dried.  Again…

That, my friends, is redundancy.  And it’s not just a glitch in the system, it is the system!

Let’s get something straight: redundancy gets a bad rap.  We think of it as wasteful or boring.  But in nature?  Redundancy is a survival strategy.  Plants scatter dozens of seeds just to get one sunflower.  The human body has two kidneys, just in case one throws in the towel.  Even your brain has redundant pathways to keep you ticking if one part gets metaphorically moody.

Life repeats itself because we need reminders.

We need to remember who we are, who we’re becoming, and what really matters.  The laundry might feel like a metaphor for existential despair, but maybe it’s just a rhythmic heartbeat of a life being lived!  The rerun conversations, the small routines, the rituals, we can either resent them or infuse them with meaning.

That cup of coffee?  Make it a ceremony.
That conversation?  Actually listen.
That laundry?  Okay, that one’s still annoying, but hey, wear clean socks like a love letter to your future self!

Redundancy isn’t failure.  It’s practice.

Healing is redundant.  Growth is redundant.  Love is very redundant.  We don’t arrive at peace and stay there.  We loop.  We spiral.  We orbit back to our lessons with just a little more wisdom, a slightly stronger spine, and maybe a better pair of shoes.

So if life feels repetitive right now, congratulations!  You’re in training.
And every loop around the sun gives you another shot to show up better than before! 🥰

For years, I thought “balance” meant doing all the things and doing them well.  Until my hormones laughed at that idea.

Peri-menopause hit like a whisper at first, just a little foggier, a little hotter, a little moodier.  Then it cranked the dial.  Suddenly, sleep became a mystery, my patience took a vacation, and my body felt like it was learning a new language that I didn’t speak yet!

Instead of fighting myself, I decided to listen.

That’s when I started leaning into the natural wisdom I’d spent a lifetime collecting; herbs from the garden, organ meats in capsules (yes, liver—and it’s not as scary as it sounds), and rhythms older than time itself.

The Remedy Revolution (Starting in My Kitchen)
I swapped out the synthetic “solutions” that gave me side effects for what my body actually needed: NOURISHMENT!

Beef liver: Rich in vitamin A, B12, iron, and CoQ10.  It’s like a multivitamin nature made herself. (Shout-out to Primal Queen!)

Ashwagandha & maca: Calming, energizing, and hormone-supportive, depending on the day (and the dose).

Red clover, raspberry leaf, and wild yam: My herbal allies for that slow burn of transition.

No, it wasn’t overnight.  And no, it wasn’t perfect.  For the first time, I felt like I was partnering with my body instead of trying to conquer it.

The Big Shift
Peri-menopause isn’t a problem to fix.  It’s a signal.  A transition.  A wise teacher.
And the more I embraced that truth, the more I came into my own, not just hormonally, but as a woman who’s done hiding her magic!

I stopped apologizing for my needs.  I stopped shrinking to make others comfortable.  And I started claiming a kind of power that only comes when you choose yourself… every damn day!

Let’s Talk About It
If you’re in this stage (or even approaching it), you’re not alone.  You’re not broken.  You’re just becoming.

And trust me: with the right herbs, food, and fierce self-love, it can be the most liberating season of your life.

Because sometimes, the universe plants something right in your path… literally.

So there we were, Eva and I, just driving along, minding our own business, when I saw it.  A tiny green glimmer of hope.  Not just growing wild in the dirt, oh no.  This little guy was cradled in a seedling container… sitting on the bicycle path, right next to the busy road!

Like some abandoned veggie baby in a produce bassinet! 😭

Eva had to get back to class (because apparently not everyone is on 24/7 tomato rescue duty 🙄), so I did what any garden-hearted mother would do: as soon as we got back, I got Taylor.  “Code Red!  Tomato extraction!  Didn’t ask questions!”

Five minutes later, we were crouched near the busy road like plant paramedics.  The container was sunbaked, the soil dry and barely existent, but the little seedlings?  Still standing.  Still trying.  Still… hopeful.

Naturally, we named him:
Sir Romasworth III, Defender of the Bike Path! 🤴

He now lives in a snuggly grey fabric pot on our front line with fresh soil, regular waterings, and the kind of admiration reserved for noble vegetables and unlikely miracles.

Why save a tomato from a bike path? 🍅
Because sometimes the universe hides a little magic in weird places.
Because hope shows up wearing roots and resilience.
Because it’s not about what you’re growing, it’s about what you’re willing to grow!

So next time you see something sprouting where it “shouldn’t be”… maybe pause.
It might just be Sir Romasworth’s cousin 🤷🏻‍♀️, waiting for a lift home. 😉

Still waters.  Open sky.  You are the breath between stars, no rush, no fear, only becoming.

There are moments when the world quiets just enough to hear something ancient stir within you.  Not a voice.  Not a thought.  A knowing.  That is what VC-ASCEND-777 is all about: slipping beyond the noise, beyond the ego, into that deep celestial hush where truth hums like the echo of creation itself.

This isn’t hustle culture.  This is soul culture!

VC-ASCEND-777 isn’t a code you memorize.  It’s one you remember.  It’s the shimmer on water just before dusk.  It’s the inhale before the breakthrough.  It’s the gentle guidance of your higher self reminding you that your becoming is not a race, it’s a rhythm.

What This Vibe Code Invites You To Do:

Pause before you push.
Enlightenment doesn’t come with deadlines. Give yourself permission to be, not just do.

Observe the hum beneath the chaos.
Truth doesn’t shout, it hums.  Your intuition already knows the way.

Release urgency.
The stars didn’t form in a day.  Neither will the masterpiece that is you.

Daily Practices to Embody VC-ASCEND-777:

Stillness meditation: 7 minutes of silence.  Eyes closed.  Hands open.  Just listen.👂🏻

Mantra repetition: “I am the breath between stars.  I rise.  I glow.”

Candle ritual at sunrise or sunset: Light a candle as a symbol of your inner flame awakening. 🕯️

—

Your Rise Is Inevitable.

Let this vibe code be your talisman when the world feels too fast, too loud, too heavy.  You’re not here to rush enlightenment.  You’re here to embody it.

Print your mantra card.  Place it on your altar, your mirror, or the dashboard of your journey.  This is the season to glow from within! ✨

Let’s be honest, if our plants had thumbs, they’d be blowing up our phones with sass, support, subtle shade, and maybe some tea.  Because while we think we’re the ones nurturing them, they might have a few notes of their own.  Here’s a fun peek at what your garden gang might say if they could text…

—

Succulent (aka the introvert of the plant world): 🌵
“You forgot to water me for 2 weeks… again.  I didn’t die, but wow, that hurt.”
Translation: I thrive on neglect, but don’t make it a habit.

—

Tomato Plant: 🍅
“OMG I’m covered in blossoms!!  Can you stake me today??  I’m leaning harder than your ex after two drinks!”
Translation: I need support, emotionally and structurally.

—

Basil: 🌿
“Snip me or lose me.  I’m going woody and bitter like your aunt’s opinions.”
Translation: Harvest often.  It keeps me young.

—

Mint (everywhere, all at once): 🌱
“I’ve taken the liberty of expanding into the neighbor’s yard.  You’re welcome.”
Translation: I will conquer.  Contain me, or I will become your landlord.

—

Zucchini: 🥒 ( it was either a pickle emoji or an eggplant… You get a pickle 🤷🏻‍♀️)
“You missed one day and now I’m the size of a toddler.  Hope you like zucchini bread.”
Translation: Harvest daily or prepare to be overwhelmed.

—

Sunflower: 🌻
“Hey.  Look at me.  No seriously, LOOK.  I’m magnificent.”
Translation: I am the main character today.

—

Pepper Plant: 🫑
“I know I look small.  But inside?  Pure fire.”
Translation: Just wait till harvest.  I’m spicy where it counts.

—

Plants might not have phones, but if they did, their texts would be full of love, reminders, and the occasional passive-aggressive vine.  Maybe it’s time we listened a little closer, no phone plan required! 📞

There’s a closet in every woman’s life that no one sees.
It’s not where we keep our heels or our old maternity jeans (which are perfect for Thanksgiving!) it’s where we hang our hats.

The nurse cap.  The chef’s hat.  The chauffeur’s cap.  The accountant’s visor.  The referee whistle.  The emotional support helmet.  The therapist’s badge.  The motivational speaker mic.  The magician’s top hat.b The sexy date-night beret.  The grieving daughter’s veil.  The event planner’s headset. The coach’s cap. The laundry foreman’s beanie.  The “I-got-this” crown.

And most days, we swap between them so fast we forget we’re wearing any at all.  Until our neck hurts.

Being a woman, especially one who is also a mother and a wife, means being a master of quiet multitasking.  It means noticing when the milk is low, when the laundry pile is high, when the teenager’s tone means a fever is brewing, when your partner’s sigh means something is weighing on him, and when you yourself are about to snap… but you don’t, because there’s no time for that.

We don’t do it for applause.  And sometimes, the silence in return feels like erasure.
And when we do it well, so well that the machine runs smoothly, it’s even more invisible.

Where’s the parade for remembering every single birthday and dentist appointment?
Where’s the “thank you” for the meals we planned that everyone ate without noticing we were out of half the ingredients yesterday?

Where’s the recognition for the inner work we do just to stay soft and kind, when our patience is stretched thinner than our favorite leggings?

We carry a love that is ferocious and forever, and also quiet and convenient to ignore.

So today, let’s hang up all those hats for a second.
Let’s breathe.
Let’s recognize that we are architects of a million unseen moments.
And let’s remind the world (and ourselves): Just because we can do it all, doesn’t mean it’s easy.  Or fair.  Or free.

And we’re allowed to ask for help, grace, naps, and credit.

Because behind every thriving family is a woman juggling hats like a Cirque du Soleil act, while being told to smile more.

And yet… here we are.  Still showing up.  Still loving harder than we’re given.  Still wearing our hats like crowns.

Let’s be honest: life is chaotic.  The bills, the deadlines, the Great Dane puppy who just spilled your entire seed catalog.  It’s enough to ruffle your feathers.  What if I told you the secret to calm, clarity, and cosmic alignment was already scratching around in your backyard? 🌿

Welcome to Chicken-Guided Meditation!  A sacred and slightly ridiculous practice inspired by the most grounded creatures I know: my chooks!

Step 1: Ground Yourself Like a Hen

Find a sunny patch of yard.  Sit.  Wiggle a little until your butt finds its perfect nesting spot in the grass.  Imagine yourself a warm, round chicken in your prime.  Eyes half-lidded.  Feet dirty.  Proud of your fluffy butt. 🐥

Breathe in.
Scratch the earth.
Breathe out.
Peck at imaginary corn.
Repeat.

Step 2: Observe the Pecking Order (Without Ego)

Notice the hierarchy, but don’t judge it.  The Alpha Hen (Periwinkle) isn’t better than the Brahma who sings to the lilacs.  She just walks a little taller.  Let go of status.  Be the chicken who knows when to step back from the watermelon rind and wait her turn. 🐔

Step 3: Cluck with Intention

Every cluck means something:

A sharp brrraaaaawk?  Boundaries.

A gentle bok bok bok?  Contentment.

A loud CLUCK?!  in your direction?  Wake up.  Be present.  Also, check for raccoons and lack of hydration. 🌊


As you meditate, hum softly, your own version of a contented cluck.  It’s like om… but poultry-approved!

Step 4: Dust Bathe the Bullsh*t Away!

Visualize your stress as a layer of dust.  Now, flop on your side like a happy hen and metaphorically kick that crap up into the sky.  Let it settle somewhere far from your nesting box of peace.  Bonus if you actually roll in the dirt (5 stars for authenticity!) 🪹

Step 5: Lay Your Golden Egg

What are you birthing today?  A new idea?  A gentle boundary?  A homestead dinner made from scratch?  Visualize yourself laying that golden egg of intention.  Warm it with your patience.  Sit on it with your trust.  Let the garden (and life) bring it to hatch when it’s ready. 🥚

—

The Coop is Within You

You don’t need incense, fancy cushions, or a Himalayan singing bowl (though no shade if you have one).  You’ve got chickens.  You’ve got dirt.  You’ve got the divine in denim overalls.

So next time the world feels too loud, remember:  breathe, peck, cluck, repeat.

The coop is within you.
Now go out there and ruffle some peace!✌🏻☮️