If you're trying to avoid the hype of big-box Black Friday mayhem, but still wanting to thoughtfully purchase gifts for the holidays...I've got you covered! These are just a few of my personal favorite, local, woman-owned and run businesses I hope you'll consider supporting this season. 1. Suzy Is An Artist. I like making my own gift bags of tiny treats using Nichole's pouches, bags or baskets as a more personal, reusable alternative to disposable bags. She always has such fun patterns to choose from! Each one is beautifully sewn and can be used in many ways ~ great for diaper bags, travel, toiletries, school supplies, purse organizing, etc.. Nichole chooses high quality fabrics - including a cork from Portugal! - and adds delightful details in her designs. 2. Ink & Owl Designs. Rae makes the most luscious blankets, hats, gloves & more. I have been coveting her "The Mountain Blanket" this season and hope to be snuggling up with one all winter long (hint hint, Santa). Rae is also a talented writer, local high school teacher and adorable bunny mama. She's a gem, and you'll be glad to wear her work. 3. Planet Sprinkles. My kids are obsessed with Heather's bath bombs. This xmas one lights up in water so they will each get one in their stockings :) Her scents linger in their bathroom for days after use - not in an overpowering way, but in a super pleasant "the kiddos just took a tubby" one. Each season Heather comes up with fun soap & bath bomb designs, so follow her to see the latest! 4. Shelley's Table. Full disclosure: Shelley is a dear marketing client of mine, and a really talented teacher & chef. She hosts cooking classes in New Hope, Lambertville, and internationally. A gift card for her classes is such a great date night/parent gift! She also hosts private classes in homes, which I've had the pleasure of attending and can absolutely vouch for. Quality time + Learning new skills + Delicious food = the perfect way to celebrate the important people in your life. 5. LilacStacks. Erin is a dear friend. I love her gorgeous bracelets and wear them every week. She has many style options to suit any taste...and even does a PENN STATE stack (shoutout to my fellow nittany lion alums). She makes every single piece by hand, selecting and inspecting each bead to ensure the best quality. 6. Home Again Studios. Any candles or match strikers from my gal Julie will be a crowd pleaser. She hand pours all the concrete, and mixes the scents without using harmful chemicals; each are crafted with 100% pure, plant-based soy, quality ingredients and all-natural oils. Plus, once a candle is burned down, the container can be turned into a planter using her seed-pod labels! Her Vanilla Pumpkin Marshmallow is probably my favorite smelling candle of all time. I often have headache issues with scents, but Julie's offerings fill my home without issue. Tell them Trish sent you (and let me know what you snag!)...
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Working with Kristen at @kmichaelstudio has helped to bring my brand to new levels of ALIVE! I’ve always felt the soul of what I wanted to accomplish in my coaching work, yet struggled to articulate it (and honestly, promote it) in a way that could be officially branded while still preserving the spirit. Doesn’t this brand board just feel like Trish?! Although I have been a practicing Life & Goals Coach for seven years, I have lacked a true brand map until now. As a small business owner, it felt like something I could focus on "down the road"...versus understanding how it could make the road much more clear in the present! Kristen's coaching helped me dig deeper, and I feel empowered to grow my practice using the focused brand tools created with her services. Kristen committed meaningful time to understand the soul of my business, honoring my process with patience and gentle encouragement. She is creative, thoughtful, honest, open and kind. Kristen has set me up with the ability to continue creating appropriate, consistent content (and MERCH!!) on my own, which brings me immense joy and confidence (and relief!). Thank you, Kristen, for the beautiful branding work! More to come, friends...... - trish Dear Ones, Last week, I shared a few details about a space of suffering in my life with a friend. As I described some of the feelings attached, and the ways in which I am attempting to navigate them inside the present circumstances, I found myself pulled to also share what was feeling right. She said: “You know the old saying "the only way out is through"? I was just struck by the realization that the only way through is TRUTH. whatever happens, you know? and it sounds like that's where you are – sharing with friends, asking for help, not walking on eggshells. which is all to say: even if it doesn't feel like it all of the time, this is what making it through looks like.” (Thank you, LJT.) Truth often looks like an acknowledgment of what scares us. Working with our fear is an act of remembering the survival-role of its voice, and deciding time and again to forgive its little, insecure messages like you would a small child. When your mind is flaring in hyper-vigilance, it usually means you are fearful of something. And if we are feeling even the slightest bit fearful in regard to living in greater alignment with our purpose and values, it must mean we are really going for something right for us -- tuning our vulnerability frequencies to high, and freakin going for it. And when working with our fear feels like too much, we can practice noticing. Noticing, to me, opens the gates of wonder and the subsequent recognition of tingly magic all around. Wonder leads the way to owning what is feeling right. This can be so small, so “mundane” in our daily lives, we miss it all together…regularly. Maybe it looks like noticing the delicate details of a woman’s dress. Noticing the way your toddler scrunches her nose in concentration. Noticing the feel of a hot cup of coffee on your chilly dog walk, or the warmth of soapy water on your hands. Noticing the crisp smell of the changing seasons or the top of your son’s sweet head; Counting the sea of tiny birds chirping in a backyard tree, the patterns of freckles on our hands, the fullness of our breath as we take each step . In making it through with truth, we live, honeys. We keep adventuring, and activating every cell of curiosity and gratitude in our beings because that's what inevitably gives life to the best stories -- you, living yours. Time offers new perspectives, even if we never fully recover. This is the nature of getting through. In an essay from Maria Shriver’s Sunday Paper emails (which I recommend to anyone looking for weekly kindness in a sea of negativity online), author Monica C Parker writes about Wonder as a powerful antidote to suffering: "But we are so poor at knowing what makes us happy. Frequently what we end up chasing is hedonic happiness: the thing, the drink, the shoes, the Viagra to give us a sense of happiness. Yet that is directly oppositional to wonder-filled happiness. So eudaimonic happiness [having meaning and purpose] is richer, but it's still not to the point of wonder… I honor your spaces of suffering. And, I invite you to stay open to wonder. I honor your journey through. And, I invite you to stay close to your truths. in gratitude, trish ask, listen. learn, believe. accept, surrender, trust. be curious. be open. we learn through play. you are not the judge. you don't need to be. be freed by this. even when you want to run away, life has to go on. especially then, onward. In the quiet warmth of our family bathroom, a pink sun just about set behind half closed blinds, I watch as my daughter gently washes her brother’s back. She swirls the lavender scented soap in soft circles while he sits patiently, calmly, relaxed in her care. She lifts a toy cup filled with water to pour onto his shoulders and down his arms. He sighs an exaggerated ahhh in response. All of this is unprompted by mom, who just happened to look up from folding the laundry pile of clean clothes at the right moment.
This act of love catches in my throat to witness, and again now, as I write it out. This exchange of trust roots into my bones that perhaps I am doing *something* right as their mama; that the work I put into this role nurtures connection even when it feels like motherhood is a lot of correction… Fall has arrived, as promised, once again. Physically, it looks like longer morning walks with Ivy, books upon books stacked high on my nightstand, hot coffee sipped from comforting, old mugs and organizing cozy sweaters in preparation for cooler days. It has elements of cleaning out the old and exploring a simpler way of being. Emotionally? It is praying, listening, connecting with intention and integrity. It’s letting the rest fall away, guided by the example of changing leaves outside my windows. It’s choosing what is in service, over what is simply taking up unnecessary space. It is acts of love and exchanges of trust, starting in relationship to self. Recently I was chatting with a dear friend on the phone while she tended to her garden. We were speaking about the nature of difficult decisions and change; on the art of letting go. “It’s like these flowers, Trish”, she said, “We dead-head to redirect the energy, so that new life can grow.” How beautiful is that? And how very organic to the way of the earth, knowing the leaves will model life/death/life cycles. Knowing they fall in service to the new blooms of Spring. In this, it is safe to trust. In trust, we are freest to love. in gratitude, trish In Alice Hoffman’s “Magic Lessons” there is a black wolf familiar (i.e. a partner spirit in animal form) to a young witch, who is named Keeper. I finished reading this book today, in a borrowed hour of alone time on my deck. Ivy kept me company, her shiny body pressed against my Kindle-holding hand, until the patch of sunlight became too warm for her dark fur and she retreated to a shady corner. It is the perfect story for this change in seasons, full of magic and wilderness and love and lessons in surrender. Highly recommend to any fellow souls inching into witchy season with eyes locked on the moon and hearts craving deeper connection to the divine feminine or mama earth. Keeper would have been a great alternate name for Ivy. My loyal companion, generous with her love, forgiveness, affection, attention and appreciation towards me. I see her soul and know it is good. Somehow, she believes the same of mine. That’s really all I came on here to say. That I’m grateful for good books. This season. An hour of alone in the sun. And most of all, my keeper. ✨🌙 Dear Ones,
Someone told me recently “Do not feel guilty for your recovery behaviors. We help others by sharing who we are.” And honeys, aren’t we all in recovery from something, in one way or another? Jobs, relationships, families, bodies…losses, changes, mistakes, traumas big and small. One of the things I like about the word “recovery” is that it literally means to get back what was stolen. And within this definition of recovery, I keep learning that our truest selves are never fully gone, nor is the work of self really about making something new from nothing. We don’t have to start from scratch. They are there, have been all along, waiting to be brought back into the light - the very center of our beings. They have been longing to be recovered, remembered, and then reunited, in a sense, when we are ready and open enough to know them again. Bullying ourselves into recovery won’t work. Loving ourselves into it, will. I’ll go first... In the forever process of recovering Tricia, I am delighted to remember I am the girl who has swam in the exotic wild oceans of the world with sea turtles, sea lions, sting rays, sharks, and fish of every shape and color. I am the girl who was ordained online in order to perform 4 different wedding ceremonies, upon request of the betrothed, including my own beloved sisters. I am the woman who has carried and birthed two beautiful babies into this world, one accidentally without medication thus making me an extra freaking warrior goddess-badass. I am the girl who loves to kitchen dance, to walk quietly in nature, to talk and laugh with friends for hours about everything & nothing in particular, to devour books of all sorts in coffee shops and beaches and cozy corners wherever I can find them. I am the girl who has gone sky diving, twice. Been an extra on a TV show filmed in San Francisco. Held a koala in Australia, walked the farmland of my ancestors with cousins in Slovenia. Cried with awe while watching a pod of orca whales teach their babies to hunt fish while on a boat in Iceland, cried with surrender when I caught my first wave surfing in Costa Rica, cried from laughter as my sister and I were spun in dizzy circles by two professional Irish dancers in Dublin, cried with reverence while doing yoga in a cathedral while my friend sang hallelujah a cappella…I am the girl who can let herself feel so alive and grateful, she can’t help but cry. She is caring, wild, funny, mindful and free. I hope to have more of her, soon. How about you? Who would you hope to bring back (or meet for the first time), from the very center of your being, to then share with others? As we begin to approach the final weeks of this year, I encourage you to spend some time in this introspective space. And if you want a bit of support in that process, well, you know where to find me... love and light, trish Many years ago, I (accidentally) started a habit of thought whenever I have to enter into cold water. Stepping into the waves of the Jersey shore, my breath catching in sharp inhale as my muscles squeeze in request for retreat, I found myself yelping “I’m alive! I’m alive!” out loud - a mantra of sorts, a praise-full reminder, of the treasure to my body becoming engulfed in all the sensations of the sea. Plunging beneath the surface, chills shaking down my spine, the mantra screams in my head. A way of snapping into now, pushing past discomfort to find the heart of it all: I am alive. What a miracle. “mama, I want to hold you” … …covered in sand, salty wet legs, sticky snack fingers…I’ll take it all, baby, to hold you and watch the waves on a sunny, breezy beach day. 🌊 Because here with you? I’m alive, I am alive. And you, sweet Saylor, are a miracle. finally sleeping through (most) nights now equals 5:30am daily wakes up.
and so in my coffee fueled haze I remind myself: everything is on loan. grasp your friends hands to tell her with urgency, she is a light in your life sniff your sons head after a day near the ocean to inhale the perfect perfume of sand, sun and sea catch frogs with your daughter in muddy bare feet, and feel the vibration of her delighted squeals invite your dad over for sushi and chit chat, grateful for his generous, safe, love towards all your children tell a few trusted souls how tired you are, how solo parenting 24/7 in long stretches of days brings new appreciation for all the women doing it alone, for longer sit in the morning light, listening to the song of tiny, red chested birds and the distant rooster from the farm beyond the woods. hold your early riser, the child with neon blonde hair, close to your chest while he insists on more nursing and more nursing. let a tear fall with mixed gratitude and exhaustion. live a full, rich, meaningful life. rest in small moments. in one day at a time, happiness will follow. Dear baby,
Earth day bubba, who bangs on the porch door each day, demanding to be let out into the sun or rain or wind, elements be damned, so long as you can greet the day outside. You are as committed to your joy as you are your anger. I love all of your bold feelings, even when they challenge my own. I love so very much about you…your sparkly blue eyes and white-blonde hair, like a little surfer dude straight from the womb, I can practically smell the beach on your skin. Your wobbly but speedy run, as you charge towards me for a hug. Your laugh, your gapped teeth, your sweet nature of sharing and how you intently watch and mirror your sisters (both human and pup). I love how much you adore music and dancing. How you snuggle into your grandparents for reading books, and how you blow kisses to Saylor before bedtime. Your sleep is interrupted at best each night, and I admit that mama is often tired while stumbling to your room to comfort and soothe. But I’d be lying if I did not also admit that holding you is heaven on earth, and in the quiet, safe, calm corner of our home that feels as though it belongs to just you and me, I find deep gratitude for my life. As we rock together I am reminded of the magic within the crossbody hold of nursing, how we fit together as puzzle pieces. My baby, breathing softly, chubby hand tucked into the top of my shirt near my chest. Becoming your mom during a personally, particularly challenging season has taught me so very much. No doubt you’ll hear for years how you were born during a globally strange time for most. So if and when (when, baby, because that means you are truly living) you also find yourself in the shadows of humanity, wondering which end is up, I’ll remind you of what nurturing your beloved existence has shown me: You can do this. You can crack to the most tender, raw, vulnerable part of your being and survive. You can strip away all of the numbing and costumes. Without props for proving or pleasing or performing involved, you can be loved and accepted for who you are. You can show the people who truly love you most, any and all of your shame, darkness and fears. They, I, we, won’t turn away. Allow them to look right into your truth, voice shaking or tears falling, and relief will be felt by all. You can model for others what that kind of courage looks like, and how it can open a life to beauty in ways one cannot have imagined. Things will change. It will be scary and awkward and unknown. It will be f*cking hard. Push onward. Some things will fall away and it will be intensely sad to dwell in the layers that peel back. But other things will dig deeper in your bones and it will be stunning to feel them take up that much desired, deserved space. It is all possible. I wish you the presence to recognize the beauty. I wish you the strength to stay in the hot, uncomfortable places of your journey. Burn it all away when it no longer serves you, baby. What’s left is what matters. What’s left is your best life. Happy Birthday, G. I love you so, so much. xo, Mama |
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