When the people erasing history are the least qualified to lead, we have to ask: What are they so afraid of?
Something is happening.
Quietly.
Systematically.
And most people don’t even know it’s underway.
You won’t hear about it on the nightly news. There won’t be a siren. No front-page headlines.
Just a quiet, digital deletion— Of thousands of names. Thousands of stories. Entire legacies of service, risk, and sacrifice… gone.
As I watched Greta Gerwig’s Little Women with my mom and sister at Field Hall’s Women’s History Month celebration the other night, I was reminded that Jo March’s battle to have her voice heard is far from over—because even now, women’s stories are being erased.
The struggle to be seen, to be heard, to have one’s work recognized as valuable—it’s not just a personal battle.
It’s political.
It’s historical.
It almost happened to me in high school.
And it’s happening right now.
The Power of a Community That Says No
I grew up in a small town. A town where fairness was valued.
A town where when thegirls’ basketball team was the one dominating the playoffs, we were the ones who played in the prime 7 PM slot—because that’s when the community could show up for us.
We packed the stands.
We traded practice times with the boys’ team every other week.
Our coach even pulled some of the varsity boys into practice against us to push us to improve. (And we beat them sometimes.)
We were respected. Our skills and our success were recognized.
And then we got a new superintendent.
He came in with an agenda.
First? Move the girls’ team out of the gym entirely –to the cafetorium, which wasn’t even a full-sized basketball court. He also suggested we could practice before school –so the boys team would have full access to the gym in the afternoon and evening.
The second thing he tried? Taking away our prime-time games and moving us to the 4:15 PM game slot.
His reasoning?
Well, he might not have said it outright.
But it was clear: He didn’t believe girls’ basketball deserved the spotlight.
But here’s the thing: The community pushed back.
And we won.
The girls’ team stayed in the gym. We continued trading gym times with the boys. We kept our 7 PM games. The superintendent had to back down.
This was not a fight about politics.
This was a fight about fairness. About values. About doing what’s right.
People in my town—regardless of party, background, or beliefs—stood up for the truth.
They saw what was happening and said, “No. That’s not how we do things here.”
And that’s what we need now … in our country.
This Isn’t Just My Story—It’s a Pattern
The latest example of the attempted erasure of women?
Women who served in the military.
The Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASP) were among the first women to fly military aircraft in WWII. Over 25,000 applied for this dangerous work. Only 1,074 were accepted. They ferried new planes, tested overhauled ones, and even flew as live target practice for training gunners.
Thirty-eight of them died serving a country that refused to drape a flag over their coffins.
Now, their photographs and records—along with tens of thousands of others documenting women and minorities in the military—are being deleted from government archives as part of Trump’s latest executive order under Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth.
The justification? A return to “merit.”
Which begs the question: Whose merit?
Hegseth himself, a Fox News loyalist with no experience managing anything close to the scale of the Defense Department, is hardly a beacon of qualification.
The very people who scream “merit” are the same ones whose own credentials wouldn’t survive scrutiny. And yet, they’re in power, wielding the delete key as if history itself is an inconvenience.
Women Shouldn’t Be Footnotes in History—Without Us There Wouldn’t BE History
We need to push back against the erasure of women’s history not because it’s a political issue, but because it’s the truth.
Because truth matters. Because fairness matters. Because recognizing real achievement matters.
When women’s history is deleted from military archives, it’s not just about the past.
It’s about the future.
It’s about what young girls see when they look back and look ahead.
Will they see a legacy of courage and contribution? Or will they see blank spaces where their stories should have been?
The most dangerous thing women can do is refuse to disappear.
So let’s do exactly that.
Let’s tell these stories. Let’s demand they be preserved.
Let’s remind those in power that women are not footnotes in history—we are the creators of it. The ones who birth every leader, every soldier, every man who’s ever tried to erase us.
The Messy Middle: Where the Magick of Transformation Happens
Have you ever set off on an adventure, sure of where you were headed—only to have everything shift in ways you never saw coming?
I get it.
The Magick You Can’t Plan For
I stood enchanted on the ruins of PhuyupatamarcaI –ancient ruins along the Inca Trail in Peru.
It was late, and the sky was impossibly clear. The kind of clear you only get when you’re high in the mountains—8,900 feet high, to be exact—and miles away from the nearest village.
The moon hung low over the ruins, washing the ancient stones in silver light. Mist curled over the terraces, rising from the valley below like veils of time, sliding between the stones, caressing the landscape with ethereal fingers.
Above me, the stars were so bright—so thick—that it felt like I could reach up and drink them in.
I stood there, surrounded by the echoes of a civilization long gone, feeling small in the best possible way.
The air was alive with a stillness so deep it hummed in my bones.
Even the voices of my fellow trekkers faded away to nothing, like magick.
Standing there, wrapped in that stillness, I felt like I’d stepped out of time, like I was part of something vast and unseen.
Or in a scene from The Lord of the Rings.
It felt sacred.
My whole body hummed. I felt connected to the stars!
It was the third night of my five-day trek along the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, the bucket-list wonder beloved by people around the world. I could hardly wait to stand amidst the ruins of Machu Picchu itself.
I expected to feel even more of a sacred connection there, to sense the souls of all the pilgrims who had sought the wisdom of the ancients since the Incas fashioned the citadel in the 15th Century.
When Expectations Meet Reality
Instead? Machu Picchu was beautiful.
But in comparison, it felt like a tourist destination. Even though we were allowed in before the throngs of people arrived by train, there were already hundreds of visitors milling about, cameras clicking, voices echoing against the stones.
I kept waiting for that same feeling to hit me—that deep, wordless connection.
But it never did.
And while standing on its terraces makes for great bragging rights, when I look back on that trek, it isn’t Machu Picchu that sends a thrill through my bones.
It’s Phuyupatamarca that I remember with wonder.
That night, wrapped in silver light and silence, stays with me.
When the Journey Surprises You
Isn’t it funny how we set our sights on something—convinced that’s the thing we want—only to get there and realize it was never about the destination at all?
👉 Maybe that’s where you are right now. You thought you knew what your life was supposed to look like—who you were supposed to be—but everything has shifted. Now, the path ahead feels uncertain, like you’re wandering through the mist, waiting for clarity that never quite arrives.
👉 Maybe you feel paralyzed, exhausted, unsure of what step to take next. Or maybe you’ve spent so long trying to be who others expect you to be that you don’t even know what you want anymore.
👉 And I know—it’s tempting to want the answers now. To just skip ahead to the part where it all makes sense.
👉 But what if the magick is already unfolding? Right here. In this in-between space. Even if you can’t see it yet.
We think it’s about reaching the summit, crossing the finish line, arriving at the dream job, the perfect relationship, the life-changing moment.
But more often, it’s about something else entirely.
A feeling we didn’t expect.
A moment we couldn’t have planned.
A serendipitous turn that leads us somewhere even better.
And we only see it looking back—the way the journey itself was quietly reshaping us, showing us what we really wanted all along.
When You’re in the Messy Middle
For the women I work with, this desire for clarity often comes in the messy middle. When everything feels uncertain. When the life they thought they wanted has crumbled, or when they’re stuck in a fog of doubt, exhaustion, and self-questioning.
It’s easy to think, If I could just get there—if I could just feel confident again, if I could just know for sure what’s next—then I’d be okay.
But what if the magick is unfolding right now?
In the moments you can’t yet see as turning points? In the unexpected whispers of intuition, the tiny sparks of curiosity, the glimpses of wonder that catch you off guard?
What’s Been Your Phuyupatamarca Moment?
What’s been your Phuyupatamarca moment?
The time when the real magick wasn’t in the THING you thought you wanted, but in the moments of wonder and synchronicity along the way?
Tell me in the comments—I’d love to hear your story.
Ready to Invite More Magick into Your Journey?
Try this:
Step outside, place your hand on your heart, and ask: What unexpected magick is unfolding for me right now?
Stay open for a sign. 🌿
👉 Reminder: You don’t need all the answers. Just take the next step. Breathe. Trust that the path is unfolding—even in the uncertainty.
And if you need a little extra support along the way, I’m here for you.
The Birth of Practical-Magick: A Journey from Chaos to Clarity
I’m going to come straight out and say it: my life has been intense over the past several years. But then, transformation often is.
Between December 2016 and January 2019, my partner and I lost six loved ones. In the midst of that, we were forced to change homes and chose to move into his family’s ancestral Finnish-style log home. It’s lovely—but also old and in constant need of care and repair.
We’re both self-employed, and when you’re navigating profound loss and upheaval, it’s hard to find the energy to bring in clients. Financial stress followed. And this was all BEFORE 2020 turned the world upside down.
Transforming Comparison Judgment
Like so many women, I often fall into “comparison worthiness,” telling myself I shouldn’t complain because others have it worse. And sure, that’s true. But as a wise friend once posted:
“We can be grateful for what we have AND feel depressed. We can hold compassion for someone in a darker space AND feel anguish in our own space. We can recognize our luck AND cry for five hours at our misfortune. We can feel all the feelings AND be a better human for it.”
—Becca
But instead of offering myself that grace, I tortured myself with “comparison judgment.” I watched other practitioners “making it” by following the latest guru-approved marketing trend—“Fill Your Retreats,” “Pack the Room,” “Sell Your Beta Course.” I tried them all (well, most). And none of them worked for me. My business barely grew, leaving me feeling like a failure at entrepreneurship.
And it wasn’t just my business. I wasn’t following through on promises to myself. I let go of daily creative practices. I spent less time in the lake, with family, reading, moving my body. It all started slipping away.
The Gift of an Injured Shoulder
Then came the unexpected gift—an injured shoulder, pandemic unemployment, and a financial cushion that gave me permission to pause. To heal. Physically, yes. But also emotionally. Spiritually.
Who knew that a car accident leading to surgery and a long recovery would be the catharsis I needed?
ca·thar·sis /kəˈTHärsəs/ noun “the process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions.”
I didn’t. Not at first. I was frustrated. I wasn’t healing as fast as expected. I had to take more time off work than I “should.” My business languished.
And yet… I continued physical therapy. Somatic therapy. Created beautiful spaces in my garden. Swam. Laughed. Cried. Restored my family’s rental cabin. Spent time with my partner. My friends. Myself.
And I hired a marketing coach who let me move at my own, slow pace.
Rooting In and Growing
My goal became simple: root into my business. Really understand what I do. So, I wrote about it. Every single morning. Journaling through frustration, through repetition, through slow, unfolding clarity.
Who is my client? What do I DO? What is my thought leadership? My philosophy? What makes me different? Unique?
What I came to realize was that over those long, stressful years, I had grown.
I’m no longer afraid of the shadows. I can stand with my clients in their darkest moments without feeling the need to rush them back into the light. I can hold duality better. I no longer feel like I have to be perfect, or that my whole life needs to look like an Instagram highlight reel.
I realized that my greatest gift is… me.
My history. My eclectic experiences. My energy. My humor. My way of weaving science and story, physiology and myth, structured tools and sacred mystery. Anyone can teach these things, but no one else can do it quite like I do.
Learning from the Trees
Over time, as the seasons turned and the leaves fell, my business evolved too:
What I DO is hold sacred space for women to fully live their messy, beautifully sacred lives. To be imperfect AND radiant at the same time. To slow down. To ponder. To love. To root into themselves. To make room for mystery. To stop rushing toward an endless finish line.
I offer them a sanctuary where they can be seen, heard, and loved—exactly as they are.
The Birth of Practical-Magick
And who I AM is an Intuitive Soul Guide. A Sacred Depths Practitioner. A Transformational Coach.
I study human physiology, the neurobiology of emotions, the psychobiology of women. But I also immerse myself in myths, archetypes, and mystery. Mother Earth is my second mother. Creative practices—art, writing, movement—are my medicine.
THIS. This is what I do. And what makes it Magick… is me.
I’ve always called what I do “Practical-Magick.”
And so, this new/old business is birthed in darkness, ready to walk with others through both shadow and light.
