For those of you who have been following my journey, you know that this year I put everything into a piece of land in California. We closed on the acreage in June. It felt like a return home. A place to begin again.
We built a tiny cabinwith care. We planned to do things properly. We were preparing to open a building permit, live lightly on our family land, and slowly work toward building a home.
Then life shifted.
A neighbor called in because we had a conversion bus and an RV on our property before the permit was officially open. Suddenly, we had to move off of our family land entirely. What we thought would be a season of grounding became expensive and daunting. There were very real moments when we almost gave up. I almost gave up.
About a week ago, something softened and strengthened in me at the same time. Not dramatically. Just a quiet decision to stop carrying it as something heavy and instead meet it fully.
Yesterday, while I sat at a restaurant working on site plans and filling out county paperwork, music played softly in the background. Three different songs came on with the word joy in them. Joy to the World was one of them. After that, I began noticing joy everywhere. Written in lights. Printed on signs. Glowing quietly in windows.
Before that moment, Joy was not absent. It simply was not loud.
Later that afternoon, just before the building department closed for the holidays, they encouraged me to submit everything before the new year. New regulations are coming that will dramatically increase the cost of building. The timing mattered. We pushed through.
And we opened the building permit!
That single step means more than it might sound. It means I can apply for a temporary residence permit. It means I can now permit the tiny cabin as an as-built structure. Thankfully, I am an overbuilder by nature. The cabin exceeds California building codes. It will pass.
Progress did not arrive with fireworks. It arrived quietly.
We still cannot legally be on our land yet. So this Christmas, I am staying in an affordable motel. I am not making it home to the island. Because of my absence, their father Mountain, and his lovely new wife are able to have the kids who are available with them. Our daughter Eden and her bf Elias are hosting Christmas Day at their house.
Last year, nearly all of us were together. This year looks very different for me.
As I move toward 2026, the word I am continuing to live is compersion. The practice of allowing joy for others even when something tender is moving through my heart. Not as an idea, but as a way of being.
This season keeps reminding me that our experience is shaped not only by what happens to us, but by how we respond and what we expect. The choices we make. The meaning we assign.
Joy does not require everything to be easy. It can live alongside effort, uncertainty, distance, and change. It shows up when we stay present instead of resisting what is here.
If this season feels layered for you, it’s okay.
If it feels quieter than other years, or more complex, you are not alone.
Quick question:
How are you truly feeling this season? Truly. Maybe you are experiencing grief… or maybe true love is unfolding in your life.
Whether this is an easy Christmas or not, where is joy showing up in your life right now?
If you feel inspired to share, I would love to hear your personal experience.
Sending love from my heart to yours. Merry Christmas Eve. -Joy;)
PS: though I still do not identify as a “deadhead” I deeply miss the shows and my jam fam. Love you guys!
Yesterday I wrote about generational curses. About the way grief and silence weave themselves into families, about the shadows that stretch far beyond one lifetime. And on that very same day, Mountain sent me a song.
Shine by David Gray.
Mountain, who was once the truest love of my life.
Mountain, who once walked with me through the full spectrum of love and loss, who witnessed the beauty and the breaking, the trauma and the transformation. Together we weathered storms that reshaped us, standing by one another through moments that might have undone us. Carrying forward the kind of bond that marks a life forever.
Mountain, who I cherished with the fullness of my love, the way a woman loves a man when she gives everything she has to give.
Last night, he sent me that song—not as an invitation back, for his path has carried him forward. Just a few weeks ago he married a beautiful woman worthy of his sweet love. She treats him like a king, she adores him, and in her own gentle way she is weaving herself into the fabric of our family. My daughters attended their father’s wedding and came home with stories of laughter, of music, of love. And instead of jealousy, instead of pain, all I felt was gratitude.
This is compersion.
“Love is not about possession. Love is about appreciation.” — Osho
Compersion is the radical opposite of envy—it is joy for another’s joy. It is love that expands rather than contracts. It is not easy. It requires a heart willing to stay open, to feel everything, and to bless what is, rather than clinging to what was.
I have seen too many families torn apart in bitterness. I have watched love turn to poison, scorn splitting children in half and carving wounds that last for lifetimes. That is not love. That is something darker, something that devours.
“Hatred does not cease by hatred, but only by love; this is the eternal rule.” — Buddha
But this—what I feel now—is love. True love is expansive. It celebrates the happiness of those it once held close, even if they now belong to another. It is the grace of compersion.
And Mountain, in sending me Shine, showed compersion for me. He honored the way I once treated him like a king. He honored the wife, mother, and woman that I was with him. And he blessed me by telling me that it is time to shine again—that I deserve to love and be loved in the fullness of who I am.
He once said to me, “You are such a juicy, passionate, sexual, wonderful woman. Please share that with somebody who can return it to you.”
That is compersion: to want for me the love I gave him. To want me to be cherished again.
“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.” — Eden Ahbez
And so here I stand, on the eve of my fiftieth birthday thinking of my friend Gill’s sentiment. He recently told me that perhaps my deep connection to Mountain has been the thread that has kept me from loving again. Maybe he’s right. Maybe the gift I give myself this year is to finally untangle that web, to bless it for what it was, and to open myself to what might yet be.
Because love is not a curse. Love is a light. And tomorrow, I choose to shine.
“There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.” — Leonard Cohen
Reflection for You
As I write this, I turn to you—dear reader, dear fellow traveler in love and loss. Where in your own life can you choose compersion instead of envy? Where can you bless someone else’s joy, even if it no longer belongs to you? Where can you untangle the old threads and step into the possibility of love again?
“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” — Joseph Campbell
Tarot for My 50th Year
For this birthday threshold, I choose a card that reflects not only where I have been but where I am ready to go.
Strength ✨
Strength is not brute force—it is the quiet, steady power of a woman who has faced both love and loss and has not broken. In this card, she rides or tames the lion not through dominance, but through presence. She embodies grace, sensuality, and the kind of courage that comes from the heart, not the fist.
This is the card of becoming the lioness—of stepping fully into my beauty, my power, my radiance. It is the reminder that true strength is soft yet unyielding, fierce yet compassionate. It is the strength to forgive, to practice compersion, to let love expand rather than contract. It is the strength to open again, to trust again, to shine again.
On my fiftieth birthday, this card becomes my vow: to walk into this decade with the lion at my side, not as an adversary but as my own untamed spirit. To live not in fear of what has been, but in celebration of what will be.
“Courage is grace under pressure.” — Ernest Hemingway
✨ And so I invite you: What is the song, the blessing, or the tarot card that calls you to shine in your own life right now?
Good morning beautiful. I promised to share more about my current project. There’s something about seeing potential in the broken that attracts me. The weathered and the seemingly unfixable have always drawn me in. Over the years, I’ve found myself captivated not just by fixer-upper houses. I’m also drawn to “project men”—men with rough edges, untold stories, and scars they carry from life. Like a house that’s stood through storms and seasons, they hold a hidden beauty beneath the surface. I’ve always felt that if I just put in the work, it would all be worth it. Seeing them through to their best would make the effort worthwhile.
This journey with my fixer-upper isn’t just about building walls and patching roofs. It reflects my own patterns and my need to nurture. It also shows my belief that transformation is possible. It’s a reminder. We are often drawn to these projects by a desire to see beauty where others miss it. We want to create something lasting from what feels fragile. For those who’ve been there—who’ve loved, labored, and invested in both homes and hearts—you know the journey isn’t easy. However, moments of clarity and completion make it all worth it.
I landed here solo but some of my kids showed up with their partners. In total I had 5 young adults in this dilapidated home. I felt embarrassed at first, but they share my vision and truly enjoyed the freedom this place provides. A few days after their arrival, I woke in the middle of the night. I heard the rocking sounds of a mandala drum kit. My youngest daughter was playing her bass guitar. My oldest son’s voice echoed through the construction site. The house vibrated with music and it made my heart sing.
They are go getters like their mother. In the vastness of this unforgiving desert, they crafted a music room from nothing but dust and silence. Their industrious spirits brought it to life. With limited resources, they transformed a barren space into a sanctuary for sound. Their boundless creativity turned it into a place where melodies now rise against the quiet vastness. The music echoes their drive to create beauty where there was once only emptiness. The music intertwined with laughter, filling the space with a rare sense of solace. It’s been a tough few years. There were many hurdles to overcome. Some hardships nearly broke me. Others transformed into small victories. My faith and sheer determination will help me see this through.
Now, as I sit here at sunrise, I gather my thoughts. I can’t help but question my sanity for taking on another fixer-upper of this magnitude. The golden light slowly spreads across the barren land. It touches the dust and rocks with a gentle warmth. I wonder… why do I do this to myself? Why, after all I’ve been through, do I choose the hard path over and over? Will life ever be easy for me?
I think back to my birthday at the end of August. It was 6:09 a.m., and I woke up at a nearby hotel. I realized I needed to be there by 7 if I wanted to see the for sale by owner property I found on Craigslist. I quickly threw on some clothes and rushed out the door. As I drove through the desert, the roads were unforgiving—bumpy, rocky, dust clouds rising behind me. My vintage Lexus convertible was not the right car for the job. Without cell service, I had no idea if I was even on the right path. It was just me and the vastness of the desert. The silence was almost loud, the kind that presses against your skin.
And then, in the distance, I spotted a large wooden house. It seemed to rise from the dust like something out of a forgotten fairy tale. Its wooden frame was worn and weathered by time. Yet, there was something enchanting about it. It felt as if it had a story to tell. I turned down the driveway next to it, gravel crunching beneath my tires. My heart sank as I saw where the path led. A second, unfinished house was hidden behind the first. It was in a state of near catastrophic disrepair.
As I pulled into the dirt driveway, my breath caught in my throat. It was still early, too early to be out here alone with no service, surrounded by unfamiliar land. Part of me wanted to turn back. As I drove up the driveway, a man stepped out of the unfinished house. His figure blended with the mess of land around him. There was no turning back now.
I stopped the car. As I opened the door, a pack of dogs rushed toward me. They barked fiercely but quickly warmed to my presence. I stood still, feeling the heat of the early morning sun on my skin, taking in the sorrowful chaos around me. The land was littered with the remnants of projects—started but never finished. Piles of materials lay scattered about, a patchwork of intentions left undone. The air was thick with dust. I felt it settling in my lungs. It seemed as if this place had already begun to consume me.
The man invited me inside. The moment I crossed the threshold, my chest tightened, anxiety creeping up my spine. The house was overwhelming—filled with years of accumulation, clutter everywhere, suffocating in its density. They say one man’s treasure is another man’s junk. If this was treasure to him, it was nothing but an overwhelming amount of junk to me. I stood there, barely able to breathe, the weight of the place pressing down on me. This was not what I had imagined.
I told him flatly that it was a hard no. I couldn’t take on a project this immense. It does not align with my minimalist spirit. I longed for clean lines, open space, and simplicity. The sheer magnitude of what needed to be done felt insurmountable. But then, something shifted. We sat outside on chairs that had seen better days, sipping coffee while the dogs lay at our feet. As I gazed at the desert stretching far beyond, I noticed the mountains painted in soft pastels. I had one of those visions I sometimes get. I saw the potential despite the rubble, the bones of a dream hidden beneath the dust.
By 3:20 that afternoon, I signed the contract. By 4:20, it was submitted to the title company, and just over two weeks later, I closed on the property. Now, a couple of weeks into being here, the reality of it all has set in. A lot of work has been done, but the scale of what remains is staggering. I sit here this morning, watching the sunrise, contemplating what today will bring. There’s still so much to do. It feels impossible. I remind myself to breathe. Take it one step at a time.
As the sun climbs higher, it paints the sky in shades of gold and amber. I ask myself again—why do I make life so hard for myself? But then, as the warmth of the morning light wraps around me, I remember… this is the journey. Transforming the broken and forgotten, the challenge, the moments of doubt—this is all part of it. And maybe, just maybe, the deeper meaning is in the unfolding of it all.
This fixer-upper home has reminded me of the thrill I find in certain projects. Projects that push boundaries. They demand more than I initially think I have to give. For me, these ventures aren’t just tasks; they’re transformative journeys. Each project becomes a mirror. It reflects my resilience and my desire to create beautiful chaos from sorrowful chaos. I gain a sense of satisfaction that only comes from diving into the unknown and emerging with something lasting. It’s about embracing the mess, trusting the process, and learning from every challenge.
If you’re like me, drawn to daunting projects that light a fire within you, I’d love to hear your story. Please reach out and share the times you’ve taken on the “impossible” and found joy in the process. What drives you to begin? What keeps you going when the way forward isn’t clear? Let’s celebrate the courage to take on challenges that are beyond our capabilities. Appreciate the satisfaction of seeing them through to completion. I hope you are having a truly inspirational day.
A gentle reminder from my heart to yours. From the depths of sorrowful chaos, we rise, shaping each shattered piece into beautiful chaos; a life re-imagined. Resilience and creativity turn heartache into art.
Unscripted Joy 