{When Intentions Become In Tensions, and the Gifts of All That}
At what point does one walk away from her own quarterly Field Guide, complete with rock star partners, vibrant community and unusual, delectable, impact*full content?
Certainly before she’s been sent the physical copies, seen the quality and danced around her kitchen at how badass it all is (Laughing. Awe, man. Shit!)
But definitely after one realizes that the Field Guide has become a perfect expression of those partners, based on their innate gestures, grounded in their motherhood, and bursting from jagged ridge of their individual edgewalking.
And you know, that’s what started this whole thing.
My innate gesture is that of the birthing woman. I birth fast. In minutes with children, in days with projects, in weeks with movements, in months with businesses. Everything I’ve ever built was, of course, done in collaboration, and always because someone else had inspired me, with a style, a chemistry, a gift that somehow fucked with me so that I had no choice but to create.
So this is where Intention first becomes In Tension. In the case of Amulet, it was a creative tension, spurred by the iconic wind of Marybeth’s sultry stride, the Elevating Synergy of Danielle’s seemingly limitless capabilities and my own vision of how to create yet another high six-figure scrumptious movement in service to the conscious-creative community.
We locked down, sent out the call, and you came. Running. In festival gear. Crones. Mothers. Fully decked-out sisterships. You brought your medicine, your pantry, your inks, brush, mortars and pestles. We said, “Gather, somehow, Here,” and you showed us, in your celebration of Each Other, how it could look.
And in my hands, it looks a lot like fireworks. Not the kind that men make, to honor war + triggers + triumph, but the kind that comes from women: lighting the hearth, cookin’ up a lil’ sumthin’ sumthin’, watching the table expand and multiply, feeding the Whole, lamenting over what’s not needed, throwing that into the flames, laughing out loud, before, just for kicks, burning the place down. Before gathering the ashes of what’s not needed, using our toes, turning it into the soil and praying thanks for the Harvest.
So I thank you. Each reader, because you are the reason we could play this ridiculous scene out. You were there, before Amulet, and we knew that, so three mamas, way outnumbered in our own homes, could say, “hey, we can’t get the goat farm now, but we can still invite our communities to gather.” Thank you for meeting us, brimming over, sending love and a constant generosity of feedback. No one ever needs to do that, and yet you have.
Each contributor. I don’t know what it’s taken for you to claim your space in this world, as self-expressed, as free, as masterful as you are. Each of you is altogether distinct, an edgewalker, cool as shit and somehow, impossibly, implausibly self-aware enough to give of yourself, despite the fact that, as women, we are not wired for such things. We each carry the cell memories of countless crucifictions from beloveds, of rejection, beatings, rape and pillage, resentment, fury and wrath for our open hearts, our knowing, our wisdom-keeping. Fear of our ability to feed and create, sometimes out of nothing, of thin air, of pure and simple magic. Thank you for tending to your own fires, and showing up here, ensparked.
And to my sisters, holy, wholly, and, fully, Marybeth and Danielle. Amulet was always to be about the “low-hanging fruit,” the easiest tonics, tinctures and words to share, the no bull-shit, real wisdom we each use in our own life. Everything you two put together is that, coming from an innate wellspring that really could fill volumes upon volumes without the support of anyone else. And yet, neither of you care for the credit. If anything, you both have fought hard to hide your own names and starshine. You always wanted for more community, more diversity, more representation for slighted tools and talismans. With all the ease you both bring, I want this community to know that you both choose to toil and simmer into the morning, crafting this field guide in the sleeping hours of your children, while the moon waxes, wanes, and comes again, month after month, after month. Amulet is not just a Field Guide. It is a living, breathing practice in service to the Turn of the Wheel.
And so. I walk away because I am a birther, first and foremost. D (my husband, Libra) and I (Leo) have astrological charts that together make a beautiful, intense, rare structure that looks much like the spinning doors to large emporiums. When projects, ideas, businesses and movements come our way, we instinctively, naturally spin them, adding velocity, energy, and momentum, before spinning them out again, to the Whole. By understanding that most of what comes our way is not actually for us to keep, we have been able to live a good, meaningful life. Indeed, our charts, and the workability of our lives collapses when we try to hold on. 15 years into this marriage, we see this gesture as a huge blessing, as it allows us to have impact and fulfillment, training us in non-attachment and a capacity for uncertainty. And yet, as much as we can see the big picture for each project, it is not ours to fulfill upon, but fuel for the birthing process.
So once again, Intentions become In Tensions. But now, it’s time for a healthy descent.
Amulet is growing organically, with stability and integrity. The last thing it needs is social media steroids, false nutrients in the form of funding pressure and the outside influence of investors or a burgeoning market. It is in a grassroots moment. Looking at that clearly, it’s an honor for me to move on, as midwife and mother to other initiatives, and my own fourth baby, who honestly, can’t stand the electro-magnetic waves from the internet. It wakes up, kicks, turns and tumbles until all has been turned off again. Emporiums and empires are awesome, and that’s a world I know quite well, but one I will always sacrifice for the quiet preparation of a private birth at home.
There is always this moment, when I realize it’s time to move on, that feels like I might panic, but instead, there is a relief. As the heat of creation releases it’s hold, and what’s been alive begins to turn a new color, some of us forfeit our space in the fields. Some of us curl inward and shed, falling to the side for the more brilliant blaze of crimson and clover, relishing in the cool relief of a slower season.
It’s motherhood, it’s midwifery. As Contributing Founder, I’ll be home, birthing content alongside our other contributors, and relishing in the treat of each issue alongside our other readers. I’m here to support Marybeth and Danielle in any way they ask, but please know that They are Amulet. They are the talent, the flavor, flint and fire you adore. They are the lady soldjas balancing a diffuse alchemy that includes a vast, engaged community, with generations of wisdom to unlock, their own thriving businesses, and homes packed to the walls with exquisite children – demanding, deserving, scheduled, hungry, individual, self-expressed, and appropriately needy. Please be kind to them, honor them, appreciate them.

xo Maya Hackett