Back in DC - Redline Train to Metro Center. Let's face it, friends: 2025 was a rough year. I won't regurgitate the details—oh yes I will—just a tiny laundry list of atrocities -- which you're welcome to skip! Smooth transition to power of a fascist in the making, DOGE-ing of critical social and environmental programs, ICE seizing innocents off our streets, takeover and tanking of an arts institution named for a president who gave a damn, prioritization of money and power over

Dear friends. I’ve been silent. You know the kind of silence that means something’s wrong – not the no news is good news  kind. The silence that means you’re hiding. I’ve been hiding, ashamed to admit: this return home – after four and a half years on the nomad road – has been my toughest transition yet . In my last post ( https://www.seechangeconsulting.com/post/homecoming-exploring-a-new-self-in-an-old-place ), I shared three keys to a smooth transition – ways to preserve

I walk along a wind-whipped beach, sand soft beneath my feet, gulls laughing overhead, and imagine what it will be like in a week, after four years on the nomad road, to be home, again . Trepidation bubbles as the ocean roars. I strike a barefoot warrior pose and wonder: how to preserve my gypsy spirit   back in the big city, Washington, DC – inside the belly of the beast? When I first hit the road in June of 2021, I was really only meant to be gone for a year. I rented out

It happens every time I get ready to leave a place – the place becomes even lovelier and more compelling, flashing reminders left and right of all I’m about to lose. A full harvest moon rises over the blue-gray ocean, smiling coyly, open-faced, asking: sure you ready to leave me? And the waves – crashing, rushing, lapping – croon their mournful song – you’re gonna miss us when you’re gone. The invitations – after plenty of lonely alone time – come pouring in. There are oyster

Last night I dreamed I was back in the rat maze of my past , enclosed in my cubicle, bent over the desk pecking out Lotus 1-2-3...

I'm finding my flow, as a teacher, dear friends. Being on an island, surrounded by water, is certainly encouraging. Now I invite you to...

Warrior II on Assateague Island You know the saying, attributed to 6th Century Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu: "When the student is ready,...

This is the first in a series of posts by The Crooked Yogini , about my twisty-turney healing journey, with lessons-learned and Try This...

We are pulled in so many directions, these days – both from within  and without . Some things give us joy and energy; others sap us.  How...

Maritime breeze billows through the windows. Gulls hang like white kites over the gray-blue bay. “Welcome home, Annie,” my friend and...

Your Country Needs You Strong Warrior II pose, Parque National de la Sierra Nevada, Granada, Spain. I'm pretty obsessed with my health...

Bike trip up the Rio Genil, Granada, Espana. I got a glimpse of the truth this morning, friends, screaming off the page of my journal. It...

At least they haven't shut down the passport office! Warning: This post contains Spanglish; translation in footnotes. After casi  four...

It’s Day 1 of 2025, and I’m out of bed down on my yoga mat, in yet another new place, my sixth bed in the last to two ridiculous nomad...

Dear friends, thanks for joining me on this healing journey and celebrating my 3-year anniversary on the Ramblin’ Anne road. In Part 1 of...

Thank you for following my Ramblin' Anne progress, dear readers. This is the first of a two-part series reflecting back on where I've...

I’ve reached a milestone, friends. I hold in my hands 40 years’ and 350 pages worth of memories excavated, ideas researched, chapters...

In this season of Thanksgiving – one of gratitude for abundance – how come I find my mind drifting to the dearth – digging in the dirt of...

The full-on reality hit me last week when I typed THE END on the memoir manuscript I’ve been working on for, ahem, decades. I cocked my...

It’s TGIF evening at The Wedge, parfait pink sky a soft, sweet backdrop to the industrial gravel parking lot scene. I straddle a picnic...