Dreaming into Being

Still here in the in-between. How are things unfolding for you in 2026 so far? Here's a lil' touch in from me...

New Year’s Greetings to you! I’d say Happy New Year, but I don’t want to make any assumptions. Goodness. Whichever way you’re rollin’ on in, I greet you!

Meeting folks where they are, being met where I am, that’s the sweet sauce!

Speaking of meeting each other…

I’ve got two performances of A Little Bit Much coming up in January. Please tell your people. And if you’re in this area, tell me you’re coming!

GIBSONS, BC - Friday, January 23 - Get tickets

POWELL RIVER, BC - Saturday, January 24 - Get tickets

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Here I am. Text reads: Rating my 2025 Highlights/Lowlights/Busts. Below, I link to this Instagram post if you want to read about it.

I did my best to meet 2025 with honesty. It was a weird year—a year of unexpectedly outrageous change.

Not planned change. Nor change that comes through blindsiding disruption. Perhaps we’d describe it as a mystical dominoes kind of change. Following eros, instinct, magic, literal birds. Shedding layers of identity that didn’t feel like mine anymore, layers whose ghosts linger like limbs I can’t scratch. Unfurling kinked energy. Mustering courage. I didn’t realize I was just being big and brave until I caught my breath in winter’s descent. So much bravery it turns out!

I’m in this strange in-between, waiting to be shot into 2026 with projects I’m chomping-at-the-bit-stoked about, without yet having the calendar space (read: childcare) that’ll let me shove it all down my throat the way I want to. Gobble gobble gobble.

I write to you from a ski trip with my dad and kids. This last-minute jaunt has extended our holidays and delayed school and work. I’m not complaining. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing. A unique challenge of having two kids 11 years apart is finding activities that meet everyone’s needs, interests, and capacities. Skiing is ours, and it’s heavenly.

Writing to you feels like a tether to the world of creative aliveness that I’m jonesin’ to lose myself in. Do you ever feel like the things you want to make are swirling inside you with such intensity that their ripening almost feels painful? As though no amount of dedication, time or output could satiate? Like a building rolling orgasm that feels like it’ll never crest? Like you’ve caught some lightning, and if you don’t throw it down into the earth, it’ll burn you up?

That’s how I feel right now.

But alas, in this suspended time, sharing all my brimming shenanigans for 2026 will have to wait. For now, I invite you to join an interest list for something I’m calling the Backstage Pass. It’s where I’ll be laying out the behind-the-scenes building of what’s next—much of which is leaning into cringe in ways that, well, make me cringe—and a space for you to build or birth your brave & cringy things too. It’s an “I’ll show you mine, you show me yours” kind of situation. Get on the list here —>

Okay, the kids are up, time for a final day of skiing through seriously burning thighs. I created this highlight/lowlight/busts post on Instagram, rating aspects of 2025. I share about coming home to myself, my most humbling failure, some big leaps, the ways I’ve been smashed around by perimenopause, a motherhood heartbreak, a new pink wig, and a crowd favourite, a rockin’ dick pic of sorts. Check it out.

Thanks for being here. I really appreciate you. If you’ve got the energy, tell me about how your new year has started and what you’re dreaming into being in the comments.

Love,

Chela