Paige Doughty shares her journey of healing, creativity, and connection through nature, exploring wholeness, presence, and her work with Jeff and Paige and Rainbow Socks.

As the world moves through cycles that feel urgent and unsteady, what can we actually shift? Our awareness. How we show up. Where we place our attention. We may not control what’s happening out there, but we can change what’s happening within. This work invites you into a grounded middle space—where presence replaces reactivity, and clarity, compassion, and intention guide how you engage with life.

Children’s musician and educator Paige (of Jeff and Paige) shares her story of growing up between Minnesota and Belgium, finding Boulder, and building a career in science-based music, teaching, and creative storytelling.

A reflective birthday meditation on breath, presence, and letting go—finding joy in the here and now, one slow inhale and exhale at a time.

I have a spot in my living room that my husband calls my “consciousness corner.” It’s one corner of the couch, near a window, beside a small table. On that table: a lamp, a stack of well-worn spiritual books, and space for a cup of coffee. This is where I sit every day to meditate. This little guy is my frequent companion there. I try to get there first thing in the morning, before anyone else is awake—when the house is quiet and the cats are playing. Some mornings I arrive

Happy New Year and holidays, wherever this finds you. For decades, I’ve been writing and recording—lessons, stories, realizations, poetry. I have notebooks all over my house and office (okay, not strewn—neatly stacked, but that sounds far less picturesque). I’ve always felt called to share this work more widely. Before I had my children—eleven years ago now—I did. And then life expanded in beautiful and demanding ways: two incredible humans, multiple businesses, and very rea

My feet stomped up the hill, rainbow socks tense with frustration. The stuffed animals were in all the wrong places again. I felt the familiar surge of irritation—until I noticed it. In that moment of awareness, something softened. I realized I had a choice: to cling to the story in my head, or let it go. And when I did, the tension melted. Nothing outside had changed—but everything inside had.