Newsletter
Cards on the Table | Love Letters for a Chemo Countdown
Done with chemo, Sarah shares her practice of asking her community to support her with a collective countdown calendar.
Newsletter
A twice-monthly feel-good publication with stories and tools for tending your energy. To receive our newsletter, scroll to the bottom of this page and hit "Subscribe."
Newsletter
Into the Blue | What I Thought I’d Ruined
Hands deep in indigo, I turn the runner, still splotched with last Thanksgiving’s grease and candle wax. I couldn’t clean it. I tried. I open the screen door. A cold wind blows through.
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Raw & Sweet | Honey Facial Autumn Skincare
She collapses over the wheel, crying—there's no why. Home again, hands under the tap, a memory of her grandma rises. Then a text: bring chocolate. And she's out the door.
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Fresh Cut | Making What You've Got, Work
She goes looking for greens, finds none. Back home, with the heat wilting her flowers, she notices what's still holding on—cuts it, culls it, and rearranges it into three small bouquets before her friends arrive tomorrow.
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Haven't Cried Yet | Grief Keeps Its Own Time
Doors open and it begins to pour. Lorde sings from the car: "in my head, I do everything right." I haven’t been this week. One drop-off is camp. The next is college, and I’m sitting on her bed now, cleaning out her room, wondering what happens if I stop.
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Puzzle Peace | Armchair Travels
Halfway through chemo, Sarah shares her puzzle practice, a template for hosting a retreat for yourself at home, and introduces new Revery Member Beth Ricciardone and her NY sound bath events.
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All In | The Energy Quiz for a Full-On Summer
Three countries, eight weeks of family travel, and the energy framework I use to avoid a meltdown
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Petals of Hair | The Essence of Me, Easier to See
Sarah cuts her hair as an intentional practice in her breast cancer journey.
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Cake for Breakfast | On Taking the Day You Want
Cake for breakfast. Last night's Black Forest, eaten this morning before anyone else is up. Yesterday contained a thousand lives—and I'm still eating it up.
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Sweat It Out | Changes We Can't Avoid
I'm melting. Sweat drips, tickles down my chest. The animals are agitated, too—no one escapes this steamy heat. I'm murderous, Sarah's voice note says.
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Face In The Sun | What She Already Knew
I put my face in the sun. It feels like a piece of summer—the light, the warmth, the longer days building. Time slows when I do this. And then speeds ahead when I'm not intentionally pausing like this. It's a little like raising kids.
Newsletter
When Your Garden Goes Wild | Let It?
This is a reflection on surrender — showing up, making space, and trusting what grows wild. Sometimes nature does the planting. Sometimes that's enough.