A Common Thread

After sharing my decision two weeks ago, I have now officially moved my newsletter off of Substack. The good news is, you don’t need to do anything. If you are already a subscriber, free or paid, you have been migrated over to the platform I’m using now. If you read my newsletter in your inbox you will still find it there. You can also find it at acommonthread.net. If you read my newsletter in the Substack app, it will no longer be there.

The yoga space on the farm. My move to Vermont has been incredibly transformative, and a huge part of that has been the relationships and friendships with the women in my community. It has been my dream to share that sense of community, joy, and presence, and that is how the retreat in the mountains came to life. Below I’m sharing a recorded conversation (and the transcript of the chat) with my friend Kristen about our upcoming retreat, March 5-8 in the mountains of Vermont.

Hard not to have perspective when you experience views like this. I had started a much longer piece for this morning as an introduction to today’s newsletter, but I decided to delete it entirely. It was in response to this which I’ve, quite frankly, already thought about too much. After spending a day on the mountain and celebrating my daughter’s 6th birthday I got a dose of the perspective I needed. And a reminder of what’s important to me (and I imagine most of us).

Nothing has forced me to let go of perfection faster than trying to knit a beanie. When people ask about the “origin story” of how I got into my career as an influencer, it would always start with my line about starting a blog as a “hobby.” For a long time, I believed that to be true. And while starting a blogwas fun, it wasn’t just for fun. I started a blog in the early 2010s because I wanted a job in fashion, and I figured that was my ticket to getting one.

There are few things more glorious than sunshine and snow on a cold winter day. I’m not sure why I decided to share this today. Initially I thought I might not say anything at all, but I realized it’s better to be upfront, than to try and pretend I have it all figured it out. I’m planning my exit from Substack. This does not in any way mean I’m no longer writing a newsletter, I very much am, but with each passing day this platform creeps farther away from the values I hold so very dear.

I’ve been sitting on this newsletter for a few days now. Between the murder of US citizens, the invasion of US cities by ICE, the kidnapping and imprisonment of innocent people and children, and the assault of citizens exercising their right to protest, I am at a loss for what to say. Most days I alternate between rage and despair. I can’t look at an image of Liam without bursting into tears. A five year old boy, the same age as my daughter, kidnapped, sent to a prison camp in Texas.

Insert me here with a book and a snack, and also a 6-year-old and at least one animal on top of me. Before we get into the rest of today’s newsletter, a friend from Minneapolis shared this resource for ways to help the people of Minnesota. ICE has now murdered two people and shot another in the state. They’ve kidnapped children as young as 2, and moved them out of state. The violence and brutality is hard to fathom. It’s Minnesota now. It’s any of our communities next.

You might remember the Vermont retreat I shared a few months ago that was intended to be held this month. Plans changed and the owners of the retreat space decided to pause the use of their space in 2026, so we had to go back to the drawing board. When we did, I knew exactly where I wanted the retreat to take place, Woodstock.

From a night with friends and no phones (except to take this pic 🫠) Welcome back to Offline, On Purpose, the weekly series to help you reclaim your time and attention, and build a life filled with creativity, meaning, and connection.

I walked into an office last Thursday and greeted the woman I was there to meet, a fellow mom whose kids attend the same school as Marin. I asked how she was doing, and immediately sensed the shakiness in her voice when she replied, “It’s hard to respond and act like anything is fine and normal.” I knew exactly what she meant.