Stay Curious.
Dig Deeper.
Nurture What Matters.
Be BoldHeart.
Enjoy Your Life.

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The BoldHeartMama desires to enjoy living out the choices that she’s made for herself and for her family. She is a relentless learner: curious, inquisitive, and open to the possibilities of her life and of the human condition. She understands that there isn't one right way—she asks questions that dig deeper to make sense of it all and to find her own path.

She pays attention to and nurtures whatever it is she really cares about, letting go of the rest (for now) knowing she can't do and be everything all at once. She embraces her imperfections in favor of "good enough"—her imperfect self, her imperfect home, her imperfect mothering, her imperfect desires—and she never stops evolving as a woman and mother. She is a BoldHeart, authentic and true to herself.

The BoldHeartMama knows there is only this one life and she's all in. She is present and engaged and making things happen. Her intuition is her guide. She seeks to be inspired and relies on her creativity and her resourcefulness to solve the big and little challenges that she and her family face together as they navigate their relationships and their world.

The BoldHeartMama is willing to take calculated risks to make her biggest dreams come true. She is living out her BoldHeart in the moment, making small moves and taking little steps that add up, and she's cultivating a good life for herself and her family in the process. Read More!

Thursday, June 12, 2014

Magical Maine

Right now Maine’s rugged landscape is embellished with spring, decorated and gorgeous. The forests here are a mix of pine, oak, maple, birch, and beech trees, and the effect is magic—the quintessential Maine I’ve only known to exist through books or on TV. Scenic roadways trace the water's path and connect a network of small towns that come alive in the summer months like idyllic illustrations of the good and simple life. Stoic boats sit in wait, hoisted high above the ground on stilts for repair; their weary bows find reprieve from the unforgiving sea. Lobster traps are stacked in high rows, four cages deep, with buoys carefully draped on the walls of dilapidated homes. The lighthouses stand tall at their cliff's edge, softened only by the rolling hills that rest behind them. The deep rhythmic boom of waves breaking on bedrock that juts from the coastline in dramatic display is a familiar comfort. Bright skies or fairweather clouds decorate the horizon on any given afternoon. Sea spray drifts and morphs into that delicious salty ocean air.

Water beyond the coast appears still, ruffled only by the cool breezes that make their way inland or when the slow siphon of the tide exposes it's underbelly of black mudflats. On the lake the birds brashly chirp in harmony, and the struck chord of a banjo string is the call of the frog. The waters of the lake are ever-changing, never boring. This morning they were a still pool of green, chartreuse and indigo; a rainbow of muted tones reflecting off the surface, mist rising near the shoreline. I would happily greet the first light of every summer sun in this way.

The air up here is much cooler than down south, still in the 60s and 70s mid-day, and sweater weather in the early morning and evening when we sit in nature’s silence after the kids have gone to sleep. Day and night Maine is brimming with life and beauty. It’s the beginning of high season now—the tourists are pouring in and claiming little bits of the state as their own. As we are too.


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