What is Hearts Weaving Hope?

When I was dreaming this website into being back in 2023, I was aiming to create a space to hold my newly budding offerings such as energy work, song-leading and grief tending. The name “Hearts Weaving Hope” arrived completely out of the blue when I was on a walk one morning. Before that, I had been orienting to words like “roots” and “alchemy” as potential directions that I might go in choosing a name. No part of me had been attuning to “heart” or “hope” as the primary focus. But, when the name arrived, it made complete sense to some part of me, and so it stuck.

As time has gone on, the name has become a guide for me in my own becoming – pointing me toward what my own heart is longing to grow into, and what it's longing to serve. 

As I continue to tend this space and its offerings I’m learning that, like the name suggests, there’s a certain active emergence in what is happening here. Weaving is an active process. When something is being woven, it’s always changing and evolving. There’s a way that I sense this space longs to be deeply responsive to emergence, change, and community need.

And more than anything else, I’m learning that I can embody this concept always. Anytime my heart meets another heart, there’s potential to be weaving hope in the most minute and grandiose ways. 

Here’s what I wrote about this space when it was first birthed, which I still stand by:

Hearts Weaving Hope was born out of a longing to build community. It aspires to be an evolving, collaborative, emergent space where people come together to reweave webs of kinship through whole-hearted participation in life. 

Kinship as a wide web — kinship with human kin— kinship with plants, animals, stones, soil, land, and waters— kinship with mystery, with spirit, and with the energy that sources us— kinship with our ancestors and with the future-ones— kinship with our own bodies and hearts.

When we weave webs of kinship together, we might build collective resilience and capacity to meet the fullness of life. These webs might create possibilities for love and healing that are more brilliant and powerful than we could ever access alone.

We don’t have to know how, but we could say yes anyway. Yes to leaning into spaces of unknown, yes to lifting each other into accountability, yes to leading with love.

When we say yes to inhabiting our hearts as fully as we can, we might also say yes to the steady, daily practice of showing up for it all — the clumsy, the awkward, the ecstatic, the painful, the joyful, the healing. May all of the threads emerging here weave deep resilience and kinship in just the ways they are needed most.