Jessica Lane

Why do I do this?

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Well—first of all—because people have to earn a living. And I'm too fuckin' disabled to do much else. But that just means that I've created an entire business out of the parts of existing I can do even when I don't feel well. The things I love to do because they heal me.

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I was raised as a military brat by a military brat. I moved every 18 months to three years. Change is in my bones. I was brought up evangelical Christian, became an evangelical atheist, and have finally settled into a secular Zen Buddhism practice that keeps me grounded and laughing at the absurdity of it all.

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I've been married twice, in love many more times than that, and have had lovers across the gender and ethnic spectrums—each of them a mirror, a teacher, a reflection. I’ve been dogmatically conservative, then violently liberal, and now—thank god—somewhere in the middle. I’ve had no money, and I’ve had plenty. I’ve been laid off from corporate jobs and also climbed all the way up the process improvement consulting ladder before realizing the view from the top still wasn’t it.

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I started with $500 (stolen) in my bank account, no formal education, and a custody battle I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I eventually earned my sociology degree with a focus on sex, gender, and power structures. I’ve got certifications in coaching and mindfulness. And most importantly, I’ve been a single mom to two teenage boys since they were two and three years old. They’re now the coolest humans I know. My relationship with them is my proudest accomplishment.

 

I live in a body that western medicine can’t figure out, so I’ve built a life around eastern practices, plant medicine, trauma therapy, and the slow, daily magic of sensual mindfulness. I paint mandalas with tea because I started a food truck called Teas & Toasties right before I got sick—and when it came time to liquidate, I had a bunch of tea leaves, a broken body, and a need to create. (It’s funny now, I promise.) I coach people through transitions because I know what it’s like to blow your life up and start over. I’ve done it more than once.​​

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I am, frankly, a mess—but I’m a cynically joyful one who appreciates the hell out of the fact that I'm even still alive.

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So what do I offer you?

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Reflections. Invitations. Mandalas. Feedback that makes you laugh, cry, or scream into a pillow—but helps you move forward.

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If something I create resonates with you, I hope you’ll stick around. The magical people who tend to find me are my favorite part of this whole thing. I’ll see you there.