Hi. I’m Foxy. I use this name because of the creature, the animal that is rarely seen, and if then, only by searching, watchful eyes. In the first flash of morning light and the last shadow before the dark falls, if you look just right, you might see the swish of the fox’s big, bushy tail entering into the woods. Otherwise, she walks in living camouflage, blending into her surroundings, remaining unknown until it serves her.
The fox is also sexual energy, her tail represents the rise of the kundalini, her big backside sways back and forth, back and forth, acting as a lead, reminding us of our sexual prowess and awakenings in every moment.
When I was a little girl, five or so, my big sister found me a tiny blue t-shirt at a shop in a popular and progressive beach town. This was circa 1978 or so. The shirt had a sparkly iron-on that said Foxy Mama. I guess way back then I was calling out to the Universe. Fox is my medicine. Mama is my service.
Not in any particular order, I am: A mother. A writer. A lover. A dancer. I follow the spiral path of the wise women tradition in a very modern world. I am a country girl with one foot always in the city and I will always live between the two. I really like to eat and fuck. I love to pray and fast. Marijuana, vodka mixed with chunks of watermelon, pranayama and native drumming keep me balanced and relaxed. I am a mover, and explorer. My family comes from a long line of nomads, traveling musicians and healers, and we honor that tradition, finding home wherever our hearts are.
I have a partner in domesticity and you’ll know him as Rocker. I have three daughters. Little Moon, Little Bear and Little Bird. I am always in love with them, they are my pure passion, my greatest gifts and creations, the most powerful teachers. But I spend a good amount of time running away from them, looking for a hiding space so I can morph out of The Role and just unfurl into Me. I find myself here, in this place, comfortable unfurling my wings and settling in my momentary newness. I hope somehow through me, through all of us, you will take that time to find the You, too.
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I met my sirens in three different states in a span of three years. I met the empress when my life was easy and carefree, she came walking out of the sunshine and we formed friendship in celebration. Lila came to me just as everything was beginning to shift; a new person began growing in my womb and I would be leaving my home, traveling new lands again. She witnessed this, reached out to me, told me she was there. I met Noa and Zita after everything had fallen totally apart and all together , all five of them, came to me, to watch me lay on the ground in a heap of broken bones. Each Siren has reached out a hand as I begin to stand back up.
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There is a dark force within all of us, a place where shadow mother lives and she longs so be heard. I was suffering Post Partum Depression in the form of Rage. I assumed that nobody wanted to hear about it, about how each day I wanted to be anything but a mother to my children. Nobody wanted to hear about how I wanted to throw my husband out on his ass or stick my foot in his face for leaving dirty socks on the floor. Nobody wanted to hear about the journey I was taking with the ugly face, the wrinkled old face, the fire breathing dragon face. It was scary. Even I wasn't sure if I could hear it myself.
But then I heard a chorus, a sweet song from the sea sing: We’ll listen.
And so I began to write, in a different way, nothing held back, nothing at all. Suddenly my heart and my words grew up and I became closer to Whole. I did not have to be what the rest of the world wanted me to be. I could be the volcano exploding with hot lava. I could be ragged and torn apart at the seams. I could be the tsunami. I could be a bratty princess and a spoiled bitch. I could be holy than thou and barely holy.
And of course that is not all. I could celebrate with these words as I journeyed back up, into the open sky again, because once we descend, if we are held by love, we will also ascend. And I could talk about the apple blossoms and the pies I made and the golden curls that fall along my daughter's shoulders and how perfect Rocker and Little Moon and Little Bear and Little Bird and I all fit together on a blanket by the bay. I finally had a place I could write it all out, without advice or direction. I was being heard. That is all I ever needed. To be heard so I could just let go.
In this space, we Check In with each other. There are no rules or timelines or need for responses. There is no gossip or psychology. There is no judgment. This is space to be a women, writer, mother, friend to the Dark and Light one, a treehugger and shapeshifter. I can be all of me, the endless fluid of being.
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My Sirens like to say nice things about me. Most of it makes me blush. But I will share their words with you anyway.
Zita says: I met Foxy through Lila and the Empress and this Foxy was instant connection for me – don’t know if she felt it but it was clear and real for me. Why did this beauty invoke such a reaction? Here we go…have you ever been with someone who causes you to feel like you never want to leave their space? This is she. She’s the warmth we all wanted our mamas to give, the fierce truth speaker that we wish we were/are ourselves and so worldly I wonder if there’s anything this multi-faceted beam has never done. She’s apple trees and tofu, barefeet and fearless breastfeeder; she’s smoldering sexy and down home comfort. She too smells of cinnamon – what’s with this group of cinnamon women? – and patchouli and is a hammock sleeper; owner of big dogs and hostess extraordinaire…Foxy, you ARE love.
Noa says: You are the fire spinner
sweating off layers of old self
moving through time and space
unafraid of dark caves
and wide open spaces
I see you as the traveler
on a journey only the fiercest, bravest,
most prepared
wild and clear woman could take
You are apple tree grower
man and woman together
harmonious with earth and rain
you could walk on the sun
and write about it later
You move mountains
swim roaring rivers upstream and down
jumping like a salmon
finding her way home
You are sexy hot mama mad
insipring me to strip down
to my most bare naked beauty
For all this and so much more beyond language, I love you
The Empress says : Iridescent, pulsating, free-spirited, creative, authentic, trusting, global. She is a woman of tutus and motorcycle boots, feather earrings and glitter in her hair. She is chartreuse nail polish and ripped jeans. She is raw food maker and bread eater. She is dance hall queen and yogini. She is wild tantrums and focused breath. She has beautiful hands. She is sweat lodges and fine dining and cabins in the mountains and houses in the country. Her home is a refuge, always waiting with open arms - sparkly chandeliers, painted walls, toys in the bathtub, toothpaste in the sink, warm beds for all, real art on the walls, crafts to be done. couches for cozying up. She is musky and sensual and earthy. She is teacher, muse, healer, birther, soul sister.
Lila says: the heat of fire, the taste of honeycomb, dirt under the fingernails and feathers in the hair. triple faced goddess. the Jaguar. defiant and dissident, lover and leader. the heart worn outside the skin. morning glory and jasmine, intuitive and instinctual, provocative and imaginative. creator and spell caster. nature's daughter, irreverent, ravishing.
As you read us crack open from the core and with our words, be seen, we hope you will be inspired to find your own siren song and share it with the world.
The time is now to be heard.
